Just like old times

I have been quiet.  It certainly has not been because of lack of things to say, but those things are too heavy on my heart to share.

My boy has found solace and comfort in the arms of his father and my time with him is few and far between.  This emotional and physical gap has proved to be more than a little difficult.  When we are together is feels like a strained relationship on its last days, with little to say and a lot of silence.

I know that this is not permanent - please don't tell me that.  I know that things will change - please don't tell me that.  I know that he feels safe to reject me - please don't tell me that.

However, the stages of loss and independence with your only child are natural and painful at the same time.  As I have shared, I have had my fill of loss, but to feel loss while the person is still in your life is another thing entirely.

Hormones, emotions, and a changing psychic landscape are all aspects of this time for us.  To quote Nietzsche (and for those younger, Kayne West) "what does not kill me, makes me stronger" is my mantra.  However, the implied strength is hard to see.

While I am missing and longing for the child who is missing 24/7, last night a gift arrived.  He was with me, we fell asleep holding hands, and the broken heart I have healed every so slightly.

 Bill Viola, Four Hands (2001)

We survived!

Well, 7th grade has finally ended and needless to say all that remains are the battle wounds.  We have packed up every piece of paper, assignment, and binder and put it away where you would never find them again.  This past year, in fact 180 (ish) days have been our war.  We have had the most amazing resources at the school from the magnet coordinator, school counselor, Assistant Principals, and teachers.  However, life was not too cooperative.

Each year I learn more about what kind of student my son is and what he isn't.  What is too bad, is that fitting his square peg into the LAUSD round hole is challenging to say the least.  From procedural problems, to parental hopes, the 180 days of instruction and homework have left deep battle scars on all involved.

The collateral damage from the year has wounded us emotionally, psychically, and physically.  What remains are three empty shells of individuals who are left wondering what will come next.  While this may sound very dramatic, the year was just that.  There is no sugar coating on what we faced, but the fact that we are still in one piece is a testament to the inner-strength, perseverance, and hope for a better 8th grade.

Let me close by saying that unless the parents of public school children don't show some rage at the inept and bureaucratic LAUSD with the over-paid administrators, inappropriate teachers, and lack of funding to educate our children, then we will continue to place in the lowest numbers of per-student spending and educational ranking.  We are a third world country when it comes to educating our kids.  This rage needs to rear its ugly head or we can count this generation out -- and there is nobody to blame but ourselves.  I have been on many a parent groups, focus meetings, and numerous committees and know this first hand. This rage has to come from across the city, in all the communities, all the parents.  It is no longer acceptable to have some parents speak for all.  It is no longer acceptable to have some voices at the table.

According to the Silicon Valley Educational Foundation,

"This year, California ranked 43^rd among the states and Washington, D.C.; last year it was 46th.   The $8,852 spent per pupil in 2008 – before the full impact of the recession hit California’s schools – was $2,371 below the national average of $11, 223. It will probably be headed lower once 2009 and 2010 figures are out. California is  squeezed between #42 Washington, just ahead of Arizona, and a freefall behind top-spending, low-cost Wyoming’s adjusted figure of $17,114.  California spends 3.5 percent on K-12 schools as a percentage of state taxable resources, 10 percent below the national average; it ranks 36th."

For the full report on California's ranking, please click here.

We're Not Gonna Take It
 

Courtesy of the Glee Project

Papa Don't Preach

The first modern celebration of a "Father's Day" was held on July 5, 1908, in Fairmont, West Virginia, in the Williams Memorial Methodist Episcopal Church South.  Grace Golden Clayton was mourning the loss of her father who died in a mining disaster along with 361 men, 250 of them fathers, leaving around a thousand fatherless children.  Clayton suggested her pastor honor all those fathers and was thought to be influenced by the first Mother's Day just two months prior.

On this day, I would like to celebrate all the men who "father".  Whether by biology or adoption, being the father, grandfather, uncle, stepfather, or dear family friend.

The bond between a child and the men in their life is sometimes made less important to the mother-child relationship, but it is just as essential.

My son has an amazing father who dedicated himself to being the dad he did not have.  While one can wax on about marriage difficulties, I have watched my husband open his heart to our son when that was non-existent for him.  My husband has frequently noted that he has said, "I love you" to our son more times in 11 years than he ever heard in his entire life from his father.

At this juncture in my man-child's life, being with his dad is preferred.  I have to put my faith in something as the two of them find their way through this emotional time.  I have to trust that they will continue to enrich each others life; that they keep sharing the deepest parts of themselves with one other, and through the inarticulated male-code, that they will deepen the bonds of love and respect.

I, in turn, will celebrate my father today as well.  I can sum it up in one sentence, he is the best father a girl can have.

 

FATHER WILLIAM

by: Lewis Carroll

"You are old, Father William," the young man said,

"And your hair has become very white;

And yet you incessantly stand on your head--

Do you think, at your age, it is right?"

"In my youth," Father William replied to his son,

"I feared it might injure the brain;

But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,

Why, I do it again and again."

"You are old," said the youth, "as I mentioned before,

And have grown most uncommonly fat;

Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door--

Pray, what is the reason of that?"

"In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his gray locks,

"I kept all my limbs very supple

By the use of this ointment -- one shilling the box --

Allow me to sell you a couple?"

"You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak

For anything tougher than suet;

Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak--

Pray, how did you manage to do it?"

"In my youth," said his father, "I took to the law,

And argued each case with my wife;

And the muscular strength which it gave to my jaw

Has lasted the rest of my life."

"You are old," said the youth, "one would hardly suppose

That your eye was as steady as ever;

Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose--

What made you so awfully clever?"

"I have answered three questions, and that is enough,"

Said his father; "don't give yourself airs!

Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?

Be off, or I'll kick you down-stairs!" 

 

The Hunting of the Snark and Other Poems and Verses. (1903)

 

 

Happy Father's Day!