1. I served two 4 year terms as an elected official in k-12 public in my area, Eight years fighting for kiddos and young adults who were never endingly treated like trash, and the ‘premium’ district’s staff were / are 65% shite.

Memories from education that stayed with me

1st grade teacher was my first crush, I really loved her dearly.

4th grade teacher hated me and I had asked 4x to go to the nurse as I was not feeling well she said no and told me to stop trying to get out of long division, so I puked on her desk.

8th grade my gym teacher called me a bitch so I smacked his ass as hard as I could with a tennis racket thing and called him a unic for hitting a girl because she was better at sports than him on coke. (he refused to retell the story so I did not get school punishment) For the next few weeks I did everything I could to show him up until the end of the semester.

10th grade I was accused of putting ‘poppers’ in all the pencil sharpeners in classrooms. I never admitted it, but I spared one teacher who I really liked. He thanked me and all I did was nod. He never ratted me out.

12th grade a teacher hated me so much she attempted to make it so I could not ‘walk’ at graduation... she tried a few times to call my mom who would always say ‘8 to 3’ don’t you get paid to do a job? She (in front of the class) got very mad at me for explaining to her that how she was explaining what an ROI on a small start up would look like and that she should not dumb it down, we were an accelerated class weeks from being adults free to fight wars, make more humans, and be jailed as adults--- to which she lost her temper and said “It is clear your mother has no relationship to you, what is your fathers number, one of your parents need know why at graduation you will be standing in the parking lot”. I smiled... looked her in her baby-sitter book club looking face and said in truth, he died last semester- surly you noticed my absence?. As I watched her face change to something she was seemingly uncomfortable with, I slowly rose to my feet and hand on my heart began singing ‘Oh Danny Boy’ loud and slowly until she left the room.

I would go on... because as the years went by my life was CHANGED by educators through 12 years of college in ways my kids will pass to theirs and so on and so on.

I regret nothing typed here

What fresh hell is this?

I’m the fucking lizard king.

Eat dirt and die trash!

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Frasier

The Office

Golden Girls

Someone in my family wants to die.

This is a poem,

But I am serious.

Someone I know, Wants to die.

They are not suicidal.

They do not want to kill themself.

They do not want to get hurt and Perish.

They do not want to get into an accident that kills them.

But they still want to die.

Why?

They think they are a mess.

They are not depressed.

Very happy, actually.

Kind person,

Loves people,

Very nice.

But they still want to die.

They told me that if they die and can be saved,

To not do it.

Do not save them.

They want to die.

It’s sad.

We had agreed that if something happens,

And they die,

We will not try to bring them back.

I love this person.

They said that if they have to live in pain,

Then they don't want to live at all.

They are not suicidal.

They are not depressed.

They are not crazy.

But one of my family members,

Wants to die.

And they won’t allow me to save them.

The heart feels

the eyes see

the ears hear

and we still know

NOTHING

The text came through today. The caseworker's words jumped off my phone's screen and went jabbing deep into my core.

"The relatives have completed paperwork and are starting the process. It will be a couple months at least until we know anything for sure but I wanted to let you know."

Furiously I willed back the tears as I looked up from phone into the sea of High School faces waiting for me to continue my English lesson. Somehow I stumbled through, grateful for the first time, of the mask that covered my face so they wouldn't see me biting my lips to hold back the sobs.

Gracie, my sweet, sweet Gracie's future lies in jeopardy.

I'll never forget the day over eight months ago when my son and I walked nervously, eagerly, into the maternity wing of the hospital. The call had come of a 2 day baby girl desperately in need of a loving foster home. Born addicted to meth, with no prenatal care and a history of alcohol and smoking thrown into the mix, her future and health remained unclear but I knew immediately that my only answer was going to be a resounding, "Yes!"

As the nurse ushered us into the room with all the tiny cribs and swaddled newborns, we could hear one infant screaming lustily and angrily. My son looked at me worriedly and I smiled back. No matter what we were about to face, this child would find a safe, nurturing home, I reminded myself. "Here, I've put her into a private room for you around this corner," the nurse said and led us past the screaming infant. Part of me, I'll admit, felt relief.

And then, there she was. A tiny, baby girl wearing a stained onesie and threadbare socks was sleeping so peacefully. She opened her eyes to reveal a lovely shade of blue underneath dark swirls of hair. She was absolutely gorgeous and I fell instantly in love. A feeling of wanting to protect and keep this little one safe from all harm rushed over me. And, I wasn't alone in that feeling as my son, age 12, said breathlessly, "Mom, when we get her home, can you show me how to give her a bottle?"

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of many nights of every four hour feedings and baby snuggles. She was by far the most content baby I have ever cared for even with needing five different formulas before they discovered she was lactose intolerant. And then the pandemic struck, and my school went completely virtual, and suddenly I was stay at home Mama and full-time virtual teacher!

Gracie, as we called her, participated in endless Zoom calls with students and recorded video lessons. She'd drink her bottle during long staff meetings and smile happily at the screen while I tutored Seniors one on one. Once we figured out her formula needs, she quickly made up for lost time and soon reached the 90th percentile on the doctor's chart for height and weight. "Perfectly balanced!" said her pediatrician.

She became the darling of the family, with my sons taking turns giving her a bottle or serenading her with rock and roll guitar concerts to make her giggle and laugh. My sassy, sunshine and rainbows adopted daughter who was five became her biggest fan. Gracie laughed at everything she did so she'd spend hours twirling and dancing to entertain her.

During this blissful time, we were in our own little bubble. Her biological mom had left the state and didn't even bother to use her cell phone for zoom visits. Her biological father was entirely unknown. Even caseworker monthly visits were conducted via zoom so in a way it felt like she really was mine, even tho I tried so hard to remind myself that she wasn't... not fully... not yet.

After more months of happiness, the word adoption started coming out more and more in talks with her caseworker. Parental rights' by all acounts, would most likely be terminated soon on grounds of abandonment. The agency sounded excited when they knew I was open, eager, and willing to adopt this precious baby girl and add her to my forever family.

And then, the bottom dropped out. A long distant relative had come forward. Second cousin of the grandfather expressed interest. Never mind that they hadn't been involved in her entire life. Never mind that Gracie has only known one loving home. Never mind that the trauma of separating her from not just the woman she calls, "Mama", but every other family member she has ever known, would most likely cause life-long damage. They must be sent paperwork and given consideration because they are biologically linked (however distant that link might be)...

And so I sit here tonight, in the quiet and let the feelings come. The children are all asleep, Gracie tucked into her crib, dreaming peacefully unknowing all the currents that swirl around her future.

All alone here in the silence and the quiet, I know. And I feel.

Tomorrow I will rise again. I will change her and feed her and coo and make her laugh. I will snuggle her and rock her as she gets sleepy and laugh at her "Mmm" sounds while eating a new flavor of baby food. I will clap and praise her as she pushes and tries so hard to start that baby crawl. I will sing and dance with her around the kitchen. I will read her a story and help her pet kitty cat. I will practice sounds with her and chatter away so she learns new words. I will love, praise, care, and provide for her. I will be her Mama, every moment of every day, that God gives me and the pain that comes and goes in waves will make each moment that much more precious.

For I am now, and will always be, her foster Mama.

"I can't."

"You can."

"I'm not strong enough."

"You have all the strength you need."

"What if I fail?"

"What if you succeed?"

"What if the pain is too great?"

"What if the pain brings healing to others?"

"What if..."

Silence.

Bowed head.

Sigh.

"Okay God."

"Take My hand child, I am with you every step of the way."

In my fantasies, which I admit are unhealthy, unhelpful wastes of time, I see the world changing drastically in the next few months. COVID-19, Coronavirus, the 'Rona, effectively changes the way we handle ourselves. Commerce the way we have always done it is now on the beginning of its decline into antiquity, brick and mortar storefronts and certain needless service industries are losing their relevance, many will be out of jobs, having to find other ways to contribute to society, so it goes. The future does not wait for us to be prepared for its arrival, it simply arrives. We cling so much to "the way we've always done it", no more, not after this. We will recognize the importance of scientific thought and the authority that comes with expertise rather than title. We will be inspired by the clearer skies and the cleaner water to keep that momentum. We will no longer take for granted the beauty of human gathering and will feel the merging of souls in such situations as concerts or being in a movie audience. Rather than being wrapped in our own experience, the months of solitude and boredom will have sensitized our feelings of connectedness; we will again play like children and have an adult understanding and memory of this feeling when it fades again. We will reflect these newfound understandings and appreciation for freedom and life in the way we vote, a newfound curiosity and desire for the expansion of the human mind, both to prevent future disaster and for personal and species-wide pleasure and gain.

It is my belief that human beings are constantly evolving. New neural pathways form from trauma, learning, and experience. These pathways inform creativity and invention, novel thought and innovation. It is rare that large scale traumatic events ocucr which affect all living people simultaneously. Because of this I believe we will evolve, not individually but as a society; one, massive constantly changing organism whose cells are more intelligent than any others like it on Earth because they want to change and they know how.

In short, this experience could springboard the rest of human history.

Or nothing will change.

Either way it'll be interesting to see.

It is always the tone.

Sad broken ghosts and

demons that live somewhere

in my jumble of neurons.

I give them the pen

and let them run until

their blood is clotted on

the page.

A cloudy Tuesday on the cusp of

a new decade. Tourists and fools

clattering along the sidewalks as

I sit, coffee steaming and cursor

blinking.

Stoking the flames with dead

spirits and cackling ghouls

has been my twisted muse

from the start.

#poetry #poem #sadpoetry