I was called rude yesterday. Not straight up to my face. No, it was after a (somewhat ranting) frustrated response I made to a former student's post about the "unspoken hazards" of vaccines, and that measles isn't actually a deadly disease. The meme stated that unreasonable fear was generated to promote vaccination.
Like, vaccines are some kind of mind-control conspiracy implemented by the government so they can come take your guns, or something.
I'll admit it, seeing people blatantly disregard good science for anecdotal evidence in the face of "it's your decision what to do with your kids" really ticks me off. Not just with respect to vaccines, but anything. Good parenting doesn't mean we sit around in a "Kumbayah" campfire circle trying to reach our inner voice that will speak to us in some sort of magical, enlightened moment, imparting to us centuries of wisdom.
Good parenting means we take the experience of others who have come before us, couple that with good, sound, scientific evidence, and do the best we can to make good choices for our kids' future. It means teaching our kids to make good choices for themselves, but not only just for themselves; we need to teach our children to think outwardly, making good choices for the people around them and society in general. In short, my parents never were so intelligent as the weeks, months, and years following my first child's birth.
So imagine my absolute shock and dismay when one of my former peeps, as I affectionately call my students, was actually considering not vaccinating his children! I mean, I'm a science teacher!! So I explained in a not-so-calm manner that vaccinations protect not only those vaccinated, but those around who cannot, for whatever reason, be vaccinated themselves. I then went on to say I can't believe I have to assert this in 2018.
I think that was the point that was interpreted as rude, but my assertion remains - in this age of presumed enlightenment, having to rehash points that have been argued over and played out in society for decades is absolutely ridiculous.
With apologies to my own children, who are not arrogant, when did 20-somethings become so crazily self-assured, and decide that us Gen X'ers are a bunch of idiots who've effed everything up? Did we do that to our parents? I do remember thinking my parents didn't get it, but I cannot recall a time when their advice and experience as parents, and overall positive members of society, was so dismissively discounted.
I remember when my cousin was visiting with her infant child, and I was playing with him. I tickled his feet and he laughed with delight. My grandmother, who was so well meaning and loving, quickly chastised me, telling me I would make him stutter if I tickled his feet. I was in college and knew there were exactly zero cases of tickling causing stuttering. But I didn't smugly tell my grandmother how stupid she was and that she was rude to say so, and I didn't tell her to stop bullying me to make choices I didn't want to make. I just stopped tickling his feet, and later played with the baby away from my grandmother.
Tickling is not vaccinating. To tickle or not to tickle is something that each parent can decide with little to no consequence beyond the family itself. Vaccinations have a much greater reach.
Absolutely nothing is safe in this world. Nothing. I jokingly say that we'd live a lot longer if it weren't for oxygen and gravity. Gravity tugs on our tissues and pulls them apart, while oxygen attacks different kinds of chemical bonds within cells, breaking them apart and wreaking havoc. However, few doctors would recommend living in a oxygen-free or gravity-free environment. Reality is that every thing we do is a calculated risk. No medical procedure or treatment is completely risk-free. The trash truck just emptied our trash bin, and when I go outside to retrieve it there's a risk I could fall in my driveway and hit my head, or a car could jump the curb and kill me. Why will I retrieve the trash bin? The risk of death or serious injury is very small, almost non-existent. If I had balance or coordination issues, I would probably not retrieve the trash bin and allow my husband or one of the kids to get it.
Vaccinations are the same. There is a very, very small risk of a reaction. It's true. Some people have a greater risk than others. I'm not smart enough to tell you who they are, but your doctor can. We as a society have decided to vaccinate against serious diseases because the risks involved with treatment outweigh the risk of contracting the disease.
Millennials, you are blessed to be far removed from the ravages of most of these diseases. You probably don't really know anyone who had polio, or if you do you're not aware of it. Smallpox, diptheria, pertussis, mumps, measles, and now chicken pox, are all not a thing for kids born today. I had rubella as a baby. That's gone. I had chicken pox as a 7-year-old, and passed it on to my sister and my dad. While my sister and I didn't suffer much, my dad did suffer greatly. He was a very sick man and it worried my mom.
My mom got hepatitis A following a church dinner - several others also got sick with the same illness. Mom had to be hospitalized and my sister, my dad, and I were vaccinated. It was scary to see my mom lying so ill on the sofa while Dad frantically tried to arrange care for my sister and me and get my mom to the hospital.
My dad had polio as a young boy. My grandparents sat up all night, massaging his muscles as they contracted, hoping to avert permanent disfigurement. Their efforts were successful. I worked with a man while in college who knew almost to the day when the polio vaccine was available, because it came just a few weeks too late - he was unable to walk and support his weight without crutches, and used a wheelchair most of the time.
Is this what we want to revert back to? Because that's where we're headed. If you younger parents think for a moment you know better than decades of experience and a whole lot of really, really smart people working tirelessly on medical treatments, do us all a favor and go hole up in a cave somewhere. Don't come out. Stay there with your unvaccinated selves and your increased risk of spreading serious illness. I hope to have grandchildren some day, and I don't want you ruining it for them.
If that's rude, deal with it. This "personal choice" nonsense is ridiculous, selfish, and needs to end.
Tuesday, June 5, 2018
Tuesday, April 17, 2018
The Soap Chronicles
In case you're wondering what I've been doing now that the kids are all in school....
A little background, first. I travel quite a bit for work, staying in a hotel one or two nights at a time. There are some weeks I'm gone 6 nights and have 6 different hotel rooms. It's a little exhausting. I always pick up the shampoo, conditioner, etc. to distribute to a homeless shelter or the high school guidance office, and I (used to) always unwrap a bar of soap to use to wash my hands.
It was bothering me to just waste a mostly perfectly good bar of soap, so i was bringing them home. I eventually had the epiphany (that should have been unnecessary) to just find a bar of soap I like, tuck it in my travel bag, and re-use it from one hotel to the next. But until that (DUH!) moment I had been bringing little bars of soap home. "I'll melt them down, cut them back into bars, and they can go to the shelter, or we can tuck a couple in the camping stuff."
Jeff would just look at me and say ok. It's like he knew.
Anyway, I finally took all those little bars of soap and decided to melt them. I put about half into my 6 qt stock pot and the other half in my glass measuring/mixing bowl. The ones in the pot, I turned on the heat, and the others, I microwaved. I reasoned that there must be one better way to melt the soup, and being scientifically minded I did a side-by-side comparison.
Neither is a good way.
The microwaved bars softened, then started to both darken and foam. The stovetop bars didn't do much but get hot.
So, I Googled it. Watched a YouTube video. OH. Ok. Put *all* the soap in my biggest stock pot, covered it with water, let it sit for two days to soften. Today I cooked it down.
You know, soap kind of gels with water. I'd forgotten about that. Also, if you cook soap, your whole house smells like hotel soap. I guess there are worse smells...
Anyway I now have a muffin pan and a large baking sheet full of cooling soap muck and I poured the other half down the drain with a LOT of hot water. What a mess. I'll never do that again.
Friday, March 9, 2018
Dear Teachers...
I was born into education. My dad was a lifelong educator. My mom, had she gone to college, would have been a GREAT elementary teacher. My grandmother always wanted to go to college, maybe to be a teacher, just like her younger sister did. My stepmom was a teacher. You get the idea. Teaching isn't just what I did (and still do), it's in my DNA.
When teaching began to be stressful and I thought about leaving the classroom, I didn't feel I could talk to anyone. When the discussion and interviewing process started for the job I now have, I kept the whole thing a secret from all my teaching colleagues. I didn't feel like I could tell any of my teaching friends, except one, how I was feeling. I didn't have a much-needed ally to help me through what I was experiencing, and who told me it was perfectly fine to regroup and leave the classroom.
These last few weeks I've been visiting schools, teaching the children about energy use in their school buildings. I met one teacher who is so discouraged, she let slip to me, a total stranger, how discouraged she is and that she's looking for something else. It was the first day I'd met her, and yet here she was, opening up to me. She told me how careful she had to be to not say something in front of anyone from her building, especially the district official who was with us for the first part of the lesson. And she looked like she might cry if we discussed it any further.
REALLY you guys? Really? If anyone should be able to relate to how she was feeling, it's the teachers in her building. If anyone should want to help her develop her potential as an employee, it should be the administrators in her building and district.
First of all, can we get something straight? Teachers who leave the classroom don't "bail." Teaching is a job - a thankless, wonderful, stressful, low-paying, rewarding, irritating job. It's not a mission. It's not a calling. It's not a profession that will be given extra rewards for perseverance in Heaven. It's a JOB. When I left my position, the department chair and administrators were able to find a good teacher fairly quickly. I was not irreplaceable. I was replaced rather quickly and easily.
Second, how wonderful would it be that instead of berating younger teachers, and those who are struggling, if the veteran teachers voluntarily spent time with the less-experienced colleagues just talking to them? I know districts used to pay veteran teachers to do this, and I know your time is already stretched thin. Trust me, I know. It's a very difficult, thankless job and your time is precious, when you actually get some.
But think about it. That new teacher who seems to be struggling - couldn't she benefit from your wisdom? Do you have a great activity that might fit in with what she's trying to do in her class? Can you imagine how much better the school would become if every veteran teacher spent time with every new teacher? Just in conversation. Just letting them know you remember questioning whether teaching was the right decision - and that you understand that some teachers will realize they made the wrong choice, and you won't think less of them if that's the case.
New teachers often leave the classroom within five years. Why is that? For one, they're dumped on with the most difficult students, the least interesting classes to teach, and are never given a chance to really show what they can do because they spend the day putting out fires. They start their careers all eager to learn and do such great things, and wind up in tears because that child did that thing one more time. We snuff the fire right out of them and then put them down for not being excited to teach. DUH.
I had been teaching 4 or 5 years when I was walking down the hall late one evening. I had stayed late because my daughter had swim practice, not because I was any kind of uber-dedicated teacher. I walked by this teacher's room, and poked my head in to ask her why she was still there. She was startled by me, wiped her cheeks, and told me she had to get her finals written because the principal was requiring they be done a week earlier than she'd planned. I told her to go home, that no one in my department had them finished. She looked surprised, then smiled. She later sent me a quick e-mail with a simple thank you for the encouragement. (She DID get the finals written in time, just not that day.) That cost me NOTHING. I don't want to be a self-horn-tooter, I just want to illustrate how a simple word of encouragement, and a little extra time, can make a big difference.
There are articles upon articles "out there" that discuss what teachers can do to make it better for new teachers. Give them some of the honors-level courses. Spread out the troubled students. Provide mentorship programs from veteran teachers. Etc. etc. etc. I'm not about to parrot those, nor am I about to propose anything new.
I just want my teaching friends to think about it. Is there a teacher who was doing well, but seems to have lost his drive? I'm willing to bet that person is rethinking his career choice. Teaching isn't something we can do with any less than 100% commitment. It just won't work. If you have a colleague who might be thinking about a career change, be a friend. Tell him that it's ok. Let her know that you don't think any less of her. Encourage these people. You want the best people in your building working beside you. Berating or belittling people who aren't sure of themselves won't magically turn them into better teachers. If your goal is to help your students realize their full potential, shouldn't it also be your goal with regard to your colleagues?
Leaving the classroom turned out to be the right decision in spite of my angst. I'm now in a position that better suits my strengths. I do miss my students - but not enough to go back into the classroom. I wasn't as good a wife and mother as I could have been, and I like me better not being a classroom teacher. And yet, there's this stigma that surrounds me about having "bailed." If I had been in an environment where I felt comfortable discussing the possibility of leaving without fear of negative consequences, the whole transition may have gone better. I still support the school where I taught - they really are good people - but I can't help but feel that some of them look at me differently even now, several years later. I think it's time that stopped, don't you?
When teaching began to be stressful and I thought about leaving the classroom, I didn't feel I could talk to anyone. When the discussion and interviewing process started for the job I now have, I kept the whole thing a secret from all my teaching colleagues. I didn't feel like I could tell any of my teaching friends, except one, how I was feeling. I didn't have a much-needed ally to help me through what I was experiencing, and who told me it was perfectly fine to regroup and leave the classroom.
These last few weeks I've been visiting schools, teaching the children about energy use in their school buildings. I met one teacher who is so discouraged, she let slip to me, a total stranger, how discouraged she is and that she's looking for something else. It was the first day I'd met her, and yet here she was, opening up to me. She told me how careful she had to be to not say something in front of anyone from her building, especially the district official who was with us for the first part of the lesson. And she looked like she might cry if we discussed it any further.
REALLY you guys? Really? If anyone should be able to relate to how she was feeling, it's the teachers in her building. If anyone should want to help her develop her potential as an employee, it should be the administrators in her building and district.
First of all, can we get something straight? Teachers who leave the classroom don't "bail." Teaching is a job - a thankless, wonderful, stressful, low-paying, rewarding, irritating job. It's not a mission. It's not a calling. It's not a profession that will be given extra rewards for perseverance in Heaven. It's a JOB. When I left my position, the department chair and administrators were able to find a good teacher fairly quickly. I was not irreplaceable. I was replaced rather quickly and easily.
Second, how wonderful would it be that instead of berating younger teachers, and those who are struggling, if the veteran teachers voluntarily spent time with the less-experienced colleagues just talking to them? I know districts used to pay veteran teachers to do this, and I know your time is already stretched thin. Trust me, I know. It's a very difficult, thankless job and your time is precious, when you actually get some.
But think about it. That new teacher who seems to be struggling - couldn't she benefit from your wisdom? Do you have a great activity that might fit in with what she's trying to do in her class? Can you imagine how much better the school would become if every veteran teacher spent time with every new teacher? Just in conversation. Just letting them know you remember questioning whether teaching was the right decision - and that you understand that some teachers will realize they made the wrong choice, and you won't think less of them if that's the case.
New teachers often leave the classroom within five years. Why is that? For one, they're dumped on with the most difficult students, the least interesting classes to teach, and are never given a chance to really show what they can do because they spend the day putting out fires. They start their careers all eager to learn and do such great things, and wind up in tears because that child did that thing one more time. We snuff the fire right out of them and then put them down for not being excited to teach. DUH.
I had been teaching 4 or 5 years when I was walking down the hall late one evening. I had stayed late because my daughter had swim practice, not because I was any kind of uber-dedicated teacher. I walked by this teacher's room, and poked my head in to ask her why she was still there. She was startled by me, wiped her cheeks, and told me she had to get her finals written because the principal was requiring they be done a week earlier than she'd planned. I told her to go home, that no one in my department had them finished. She looked surprised, then smiled. She later sent me a quick e-mail with a simple thank you for the encouragement. (She DID get the finals written in time, just not that day.) That cost me NOTHING. I don't want to be a self-horn-tooter, I just want to illustrate how a simple word of encouragement, and a little extra time, can make a big difference.
There are articles upon articles "out there" that discuss what teachers can do to make it better for new teachers. Give them some of the honors-level courses. Spread out the troubled students. Provide mentorship programs from veteran teachers. Etc. etc. etc. I'm not about to parrot those, nor am I about to propose anything new.
I just want my teaching friends to think about it. Is there a teacher who was doing well, but seems to have lost his drive? I'm willing to bet that person is rethinking his career choice. Teaching isn't something we can do with any less than 100% commitment. It just won't work. If you have a colleague who might be thinking about a career change, be a friend. Tell him that it's ok. Let her know that you don't think any less of her. Encourage these people. You want the best people in your building working beside you. Berating or belittling people who aren't sure of themselves won't magically turn them into better teachers. If your goal is to help your students realize their full potential, shouldn't it also be your goal with regard to your colleagues?
Leaving the classroom turned out to be the right decision in spite of my angst. I'm now in a position that better suits my strengths. I do miss my students - but not enough to go back into the classroom. I wasn't as good a wife and mother as I could have been, and I like me better not being a classroom teacher. And yet, there's this stigma that surrounds me about having "bailed." If I had been in an environment where I felt comfortable discussing the possibility of leaving without fear of negative consequences, the whole transition may have gone better. I still support the school where I taught - they really are good people - but I can't help but feel that some of them look at me differently even now, several years later. I think it's time that stopped, don't you?
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