Does this make me look fat?

Does this make me look fat? .

I have always been concerned about the way I look. Chuckle if you want at the idea of a six year old obsessing about appearances, but it happened. I also saw the movie Cool as Ice in the theater in a non-ironic way on a date. That whole relationship seethed with irony, but not the choice of movie. I am not proud of those events, but they happened.

I’m not sure when the pressure to fit a standard of beauty came from. Most of my life much of my extended family has been obsessed with weight. I was six years old when I found out that fitting (no pun intended) a standard that I now know that it is impossible to obtain and maintain was important to how the world valued you.

In kindergarten I knew that it was more important that my school uniform pants were from the “pretty plus” section at Sears than it was that I could read well enough to read to the class. Guess which one made a longer lasting impact on me? (To be fair to Sears, the pretty plus section was endorsed by Winnie the Pooh.)

Why does this bother me now? It bothers me because I am still living my life with a thin veneer (at least my veneer is thin!) of self consciousness because of my size.
I have been trying to lose the same 10 or so pounds for 11 years. I am not ready for Dr. Nozaradan or the crew from any reality show, except maybe Dr. Pimple Popper, I really want to do something about these skin tags.

I watch entirely too much television.

So where does this leave me? I am moderately portly. I can function normally. And for the most part, all of my various doctors are ok with my weight and size. So, does it matter what I look like? Maybe. Several years, ok, decades ago, I was seriously obsessed with my looks.

My entire life, people have been telling me that I have such a pretty face. No one ever said, “It’s too bad about your ass!” Although to be fair, being rejected by various crushes and smug actors/directors did a fine job of that. Even when I was thin, directors wanted me to be thinner.
It’s hard to do and to maintain, and given the limited amount of roles for Hispanic women, chances are good that I would be cast as the maid anyway.

My entire sophomore year of college I dieted like a fiend. I was always hungry and to maintain my acceptable and castable weight goal, I lived off of air popped popcorn, yogurt and Diet Coke.

One day I had to decide if I wanted to actually use my brain or be thin I voted for brain, and ate something with nutrition in it. So here we are three decades later and does it matter what I look like? I had two heartbreaking separations. Both were relationships that I put a lot of time and love into and both dropped on me like a jagular.( I bet you didn’t think I could get back to the Winnie the Pooh reference)

Neither of these heartbreaks had anything to do with my looks. (I’d like to think so.) The reasons I was given were even more insulting. One was because I am dangerous, the other because of geography. Both are ridiculous.

So does it matter? Is the circumference of my thighs going to keep me from pursuing my goals and dreams?

Once again, I choose my brain. But I still like popcorn

What it’s like

Flannery O’Connor said that any punt who survives childhood has enough writing material for a lifetime. I’m trying to survive the slings and arrows of adulthood.  I have been on another brain trauma related adventure since December 3. Thus time I got to have a brain bleed AND a craniotomy. So that’s two brain traums for the same amount of crippling medical debt. As one of my favorite people I the world says, “ I have a it of feelings”.  

I thought of a great metaphor that helps me explain without dissolving into sobs and tears and maybe dry heaving.

Imagine you have an amazing ice cream one that you assembled yourself and even though it’s not perfect it has Everything you like in it and then some jerk suddenlyknocks it out of your hand and you spend several minutes trying to stop it from falling because you know that you will spend an insane amount of time trying to recreate it and it will never be the same, and know your hands and clothes are sticky and you don’t have any ice cream.

Sucks right. So there I was living my life post nervous breakdown and my life got knocked out of my hand

Here I am in month four of trying to assemble ingredients. I had to find a foster home for my kitties, because I’m doing most of my recovery at mymoms house. And my aunt lives here, too, and between the two of them there are three chihuahuas. While those are minor obstacles on my way to reassemble my ice cream cone, I am having trouble gathering the ingredients because, I still have limited use of my left arm and hand and I am using a walker, but should soon be using a caneI’m not cleared to drive yet, so this metaphor keeps getting more and more complex. 

I think I will just suffice it to say, “ it sucks”

On Purpose.

Several weeks ago whilst still employed, I commented that it was amazing that all five English teachers had such diverse writing styles and approaches to teaching. 

1. Freshman comp teacher-kind but strict. The baby of the group, but efficient
2. English I-is super strict and oddly humorless. Presence is mildly intimidating. (I speak from personal experience; she made me incredibly uncomfortable and shoved me into a bout of impostor syndrome
3. English II -Me for about two years. Laid back and uses humor and literary allusions to make a point. 
4. English III-Extremely relaxed approach, I refer to him as the Hunter S. Thompson of the English Department
5. English IV- Seriously relaxed enjoys analysis and will take productive criticism 

 (I say this because I did leap down his throat about the need for teaching academic vocab) and he gestured at me with the Latin and Greek root words textbook. That’s when I think I shared too much.) 

Anyway, both IV and V were discussing philosophy, and I commented that, although I have a classical and thorough education, I still don’t quite have a handle on philosophy.

IV, a down-to-earth human and a heck of a nice guy said that he spends a lot of time pondering life’s purpose. I stated, that I have known my purpose for decades, to save children. 

Throughout my teaching career, that has been my objective; keep the kids safe and teach them something, and let them know they are loved and cared for. A lot of times this inspires them to save themselves. 

This is what I tried to do. Even during the challenging COVID days when the extremely challenging students just about ran me into the ground.  That year, I got COVID at school, got cornered (by parents) at school, and lost a student who was one that needed the most help. 

And so I found what I thought was my dream job. One month into the dream, my father died suddenly, exactly one day after I mentioned to my students that I had asked my parents why they sent me and my brother to a Catholic College prep school. My mother had a litany of educational and religious reasons. My dad simply stated, “Because we didn’t want you to go out into the world like a bunch of payasos. 

When I told my students, they concurred that they were given similar reasons. 

Now here’s the hard part. All I wanted to do after my dad died was curl into a ball and sleep forever. Every day that I went to school, one or all of my students made me feel that I was worthwhile, not just in the classroom but as a person. 

Whether it was E.O making me laugh with her “Eat the rich, Nom Nom Nom” to watching MC and AG’s friendship grow, watching AV and JT taking on the world, one look at a time, or listening  CG and LK argue about putting sugar in rice. 

All of those moments, far too many to name, with these exceptional students, saved me. 

While I love all of my students, and my second year at Cristo Rey there were some really great ones, The kids I taught my first year made a huge impact. 

 I love them all.   I really do; I think that’s why I’m insane. 

Cristo Rey’s Class of 2024, even the ones who are not there anymore, Cesar, Sonia, Arely, Omar, Joseph, Esmeralda, Andres and Diana. They will always be worth greater than diamonds to me. 

Those kids saved me. I thought I was saving them. 

Questions? Comments? Jokes you would like to share?

In regard to my previous blog, I have been asked if it was wise to post this.

Every word in that document is true and verifiable. My students and colleagues and well-wishers wanted to know what happened. There it is; the truth.

I realize we are a right-to-work state and you can be let go, fired, shot into the sun, or whatever without notice.

They didn’t have to give a reason, so why just lie?

I think the situation is retaliation for

1. Reporting our Dean of Student Success (She has successfully turned many students against her.) I reported her for targeting a specific student for the dress code. DoSS stated in front of me and a witness that she was intending to dress code a student who wasn’t even in the building yet.
2. Reporting the school to OSHA for a leaky ceiling tile. ( I wish I could prove this because this is in violation of the whistleblower’s act.

Things I actually did other than the above

1. Said loudly that I would burn the place down (literally and figuratively) because something upset a student. It has something to do with gender-neutral bathrooms. If you as an adult that students are supposed to trust, do not ever say or do anything to them to make them run from the building.
2. Served as a go-between so that one of my students could voice her concerns about the lack of representation among the faculty and administration. (You see how that turned out. The only two teachers who are the exact demographic as the students were not renewed this year.

If those are the reasons, I would do it again. I will always stand up for my students or anyone, for that matter, who is facing injustice.

There were several students who were expelled, suspended, or otherwise disappeared without just cause and/or evidence.

I spoke to a priest. He told me that I could sue, but that wouldn’t help me with rage. Again A PRIEST TOLD ME TO SUE.

I spoke to a labor lawyer, and he asked what my endgame is. I told him I don’t want to see this happen to anyone else. He advised that I file a claim because of the hostile work environment.

So here I am. My blood pressure is high, and anxiety trying to get me.

If my actions create change and make the school a better place for students and teachers, it was worth it.

I would do it again for my favorite people in the world.

Just the facts, ma’am.

As promised, here it is, the completely factual reasons behind my change of occupation. It is all verifiable fact and doesn’t make any more sense today. I will provide commentary either this evening or tomorrow.

Copy of Statement regarding non-renewal of contract

On January 17th my second period English class was observed by CRFW principal, Anne Jendel, Dean of Academics Anna Brissman, and a consultant of the Cristo Rey Network. This class was the first day of a new unit and was largely expository.

I do not feel that the class went as well as it could have. I did not have an immediate follow up to this observation as is the norm at CRFW.

In mid February, I was called into a meeting with Anne Jendel and Anna Brissman. I was informed that this meeting needed to be kept confidential. The topic of the meeting was the renewal of my contract for the next school year. I was told that the renewal was pending the improvement of my use of the school’s gradual release model.

I was not given a behavior plan or any specific instructions. I took my own notes.

During a private meeting with Anna Brissman I asked if I needed to start looking for another job. She said she didnt’t think so as my teaching had vastly improved in the area which was previously lacking.

On March 3, I was called into a meeting with Anne Jendel. Our Regional HR representative,Gladys Peña was also in attendance.

I recorded this meeting as is legal in Texas, a one party state.

I was told that because I had violated the confidentiality agreement (informal, verbal only) that my contract would not be renewed.

I absolutely did not say anything about this meeting with the exception of my private meeting with the Dean of Academics. who was at the original meeting.

Anne Jendel said that it had been reported to her by my colleagues and students that my contract was in peril.
I
At this point,I pulled out my notes and said, “As per our previous meeting, my contract was pending improvement in my teaching style.”

She responded that my non-renewal is not linked to my teaching; my teaching had improved as suggested.

Jendel called an end to this meeting and signed off on a document saying that we had met. On March 6, I was called to another meeting with Anne Jendel, Ms. Peña attended virtually.

I also recorded this meeting.
At this time I received paperwork stating that I would not be renewed at that my building access was limited to the hours of 7 AM to 6 PM during the school week.

I was also informed that if it is reported back to her that I am talking about the above then my contract will be terminated immediately.

I have both signed documents. Both were signed under duress.

Maybe it’s not just me.

So, yesterday I had to stop at the grocery store (I absolutely love to do this at 5 PM, but one of my former students works there now, so that’s good) because I am having tummy issues due to my crippling anxiety that results from my toxic work environment. This store has a Starbucks an I had points on my card so I stopped to get a refreshing beverage.

As I was waiting for the trainee to get things together, I told the manager that there was a fly on the cheese Danish. I am personally grossed out by cheese danish, but others might care that a fly was having a stroll on the pastry. The manager was equally grossed out, but told me there was nothing to prevent it because the pastry case doesn’t seal completely and corporate wants them to sell directly from the case but he was reluctant to do so, because, you know, insect promenade.

Then he said, “They tell us to do stuff because they aren’t the ones who have to do it.”

That really resonated with me because as I wend my way through my last 2 days at this job, I have to finish grading 47 finals. This is much more difficult than it sounds because each section has to be read and scored and entered on a bubble sheet. After the bubbling is finished, it is then passed off to the Dean of Academics (the only admin who has not lost her mind.) She scans the sheets and the information goes directly to Eduphoria, which may or not be working properly. After the results are tabulated. These grades have to be entered into the gradebook which is in a completely different program and not arranged alphabetically. Once the grade booking is finished , the data has to be entered into a spreadsheet provided by the network. After all of this I get to close out my grades, get the rest of my stuff loaded into my car, have a 12 item checklist signed off on, and then my email and building access is cut off.

But that’s not even the end of the story.

I still have to sit through teacher awards. (I know, please feel free to waste my time) and get my instructions for Saturday. Saturday is graduation. My task is to help students down the stairs after they receive their diplomas. This will take up my Saturday morning; the morning I like to do as little as possible. Since this is my last huzzah at this school, and it is pride month, I’m going to go all out.

I have a pride t-shirt on its way that I will wear with my suit. I am going to attempt full drag makeup, complete with rainbow eyeshadow-. I have pride barrettes and earrings, and I also have some bright blue temporary hair color (I have dark hair, but I imagine my gray hair will have a noticeable tint).

Why am I doing all of this? I am doing more make-up than Ru Paul in honor of all of the LBGTQ students who have been belittled by staff either covertly or overtly, plus I’m hoping to irritate the bishop who is conferring diplomas. (That really sounds like a euphemism.) I fully respect the office, but this bishop has been acting in a less-than-Christlike way. (I am fairly certain that Christ would not yell in children’s faces and indicate that they needed to pray to change so they would not go to hell, but I could be wrong, I’ve only been Catholic for five decades.)

The whole reason I am doing all of the above is for my students. I love them all. Even the one whose penmanship is so poor that I have to use a magnifying glass to read their essays.

The irritating the bishop is just a bonus.

To all of my students past and present. I love you all. I really do. There is not a single thing in this world i wouldn’t do for you.

Except teach Middle School Theater. That will kill me.

It’s been awhile

I wish I had been able to keep up as I intended. I promised my students that I would give them the whole story, so leading up until Saturday, I will be laying the background.

I seem to have lost a day or two due to my growing inability to give a teeny-tiny rat’s behind. It is ok if you assume that either the rat, or the behind is tiny, although it makes more sense for both the rat and the behind to be the same size. 

This is where my brain is right now. It is now eight days of teaching, and 13 days working for this school. I wanted to teach here until I retired. Admin has crapped in the kool-aid.

There is not a strong enough metaphor to describe how the environment has changed. It is now a point of terror for many students and teachers (terror may be hyperbole, but it does create a hostile work environment) 

I am currently on my way out of what started to be the best years of my teaching career. The students are respectful and well behaved. I rarely have to raise my voice, once it was because two students were having an argument about the character Boo Radley.

It seems to me that the direction got skewed somewhere along the way.  I believe it is this way everywhere. It is a matter of transparency and checks and balances. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. When there is no accountability, things can go haywire.  My problem, according to a former student, is that I want things to make sense. 

I was hired specifically to fight for the kids. (Really, it was in my interview.) I have long felt that this is my purpose. 

A microcosm of how things went horribly wrong is at my final interview. I was to teach a class on tone and theme. After this lesson, I was to read an article about microaggressions. If you are a person of color or unique persuasion or any minority at all you are familiar with this. I personally have been told that “I speak so well” with the implication that as a Mexican American I should sound like Cheech Marin or Sofia Vergara.  At the time I thought, “Wow this is great! The school is sensitive to the feelings of minorities and the disenfranchised.” 

Now it seems to me that everything has become a macro aggression. The only transparency is in the treatment of our students. There is blatant favoritism when it comes to meteing out punishments.  Our students are not treated equally. 

It’s not right and it’s not fair. And that’s why I’m fighting. 

And again

What can you do in seventeen days? If you are me, you can ponder a thought for two weeks and then slam it into shape for publication.  If you are me, what you will be doing is

1. Grade 45 essays (major grade, covers three classes)
2. Print out 45 test documents 
3. Set up the answer key and print bubble sheets. 
4. Notifying parents and students if they are in danger of failing. 
5. Running all possible numerical outcomes so the student can meet the bare minimum to pass
6. Sit through one helpful meeting (department meeting regarding finals.)
7. Sit through one not so helpful meeting (grade level meeting) 
8. Supervise dismissal after school
9. Hope that lightning causes a power outage so that we can go home early.
10. Supervise arrival 3 more times. 
11. Plan lessons for the three days of class we have until the first day’s finals 
12. Try not to scream when most of the students are panicking because they are behind in their work

My mind is actually blank right now.  I know that many teachers are in the same sleepy boat. 

I have most of my work taken care of for this week and most of my tasks involve nudging students through the last stages of the semester. 

My students are working on an essay for a major grade. I am too tired to shove someone  up the hill of education today. 

Why do we do it? We do it for the kids. Kids like the ones in my first period class. This room full of sophomores is capable of having an intellectual discussion and a Socratic seminar. They know what they are doing and if they don’t, they know to ask. 

We do it for kids like my second period who are more goofy teenagers  than scholars.  There are a lot of big personalities in that class, and a lot of loud personalities as well. That class has the sweet student who, when learning of my father’s death, gave me a key chain charm of a dragon.  There is also the chatty student who gave me a new tumbler for my iced coffee because mine broke when I fell down the stairs a few weeks ago. (I have been teaching for the last two weeks with a black eye.) 

And then there’s my other students. The ones I had last year who literally saved my life by giving me focus and purpose after the sudden death of my father. I only see them a handful at a time for SAT prep. They check on me constantly.  I am having a challenging day because my chronic insomnia won last night, and my family is currently leaving emotional skidmarks on me. I was sitting in the conference  room being skidded on by my family via phone. I was slumped because of all of the above. One of my students knocked on the door to make sure I’m okay.

These kids are the best. It breaks my heart to leave them 

Just a little more.

When someone’s career is coming to an end, it can be a time of mixed emotions.

So very true. This is just the end of my career as a classroom teacher. Why do I want to leave the classroom? 

1. Teachers should not expect to get shot, stabbed or otherwise wounded during the course of the work day.
2. The workload is insane. As an English teacher, I have a minimum of forty things to grade per day. As a Theater teacher I had at least forty things to handle during the day; not including contacting parents and listening to parent complaints with little to no- support
3. No one cares about you and your mental health. Not entirely true at my school. The kids and my fellow teachers are compassionate. How is the support of my admin? I have been teaching for three weeks with a black eye-someone asked me this morning when my black eye is going away. 
4. The money is crap. As I am looking for another fork on my career path, I am discovering that most teacher searches show that starting salary is between $30,000 and $40, 000 per year. I live alone with two cats (shocking!) And I could not make it on that. I don’t know how a family is expected to survive on that. 
5. The day to day heartbreaks are increasingly harder to move past .

A I helped a bit with this section. It does seem to say it all. The sentence “It is, indeed, time to go. I cannot take the toxic admin anymore.” suggests that someone has reached a breaking point in their job or work environment due to the behavior of the administration. It implies that the person has been dealing with difficult or unhealthy workplace dynamics for some time and has decided that they can no longer tolerate the situation.

Without additional context, it is difficult to determine the specific circumstances that led to this statement. However, it suggests that the person has experienced a high level of stress or discomfort due to the behavior of the administration, and may have tried to address the issue previously with little success. The statement also suggests that the person has made the decision to leave their current job or work environment as a result of the toxic administration, likely in the hopes of finding a healthier and more positive work environment.

The sentence “I will always be supportive of my students” suggests that someone is committed to providing encouragement, guidance, and assistance to the students they teach. It implies that the person recognizes the importance of creating a positive and supportive learning environment for their students and is willing to go above and beyond to ensure that their students feel supported.

Without additional context, it is difficult to determine the specific situation that led to this statement. However, it suggests that the person has a strong sense of empathy and cares deeply about the well-being and success of their students. The statement also suggests that the person is likely to be approachable and available to their students, and may be viewed as a positive role model or mentor. Overall, being supportive of students can have a profound impact on their academic and personal development, and can help them to achieve their goals and reach their full potential.

Seventeen

What can you do in seventeen days? If you are me, you can ponder a thought for two weeks and then slam it into shape for publication.  If you are me, what you will be doing is

1. Grade 45 essays (major grade, covers three classes)
2. Print out 45 test documents 
3. Set up the answer key and print bubble sheets. 
4. Notifying parents and students if they are in danger of failing. 
5. Running all possible numerical outcomes so the student can meet the bare minimum to pass
6. Sit through one helpful meeting (department meeting regarding finals.)
7. Sit through one not so helpful meeting (grade level meeting) 
8. Supervise dismissal after school
9. Hope that lightning causes a power outage so that we can go home early.
10. Supervise arrival 3 more times. 
11. Plan lessons for the three days of class we have until the first day’s finals 
12. Try not to scream when most of the students are panicking because they are behind in their work

My mind is actually blank right now.  I know that many teachers are in the same sleepy boat. 

I have most of my work taken care of for this week and most of my tasks involve nudging students through the last stages of the semester. 

My students are working on an essay for a major grade. I am too tired to shove someone  up the hill of education today. 

Why do we do it? We do it for the kids. Kids like the ones in my first period class. This room full of sophomores is capable of having an intellectual discussion and a Socratic seminar. They know what they are doing and if they don’t, they know to ask. 

We do it for kids like my second period who are more goofy teenagers  than scholars.  There are a lot of big personalities in that class, and a lot of loud personalities as well. That class has the sweet student who, when learning of my father’s death, gave me a key chain charm of a dragon.  There is also the chatty student who gave me a new tumbler for my iced coffee because mine broke when I fell down the stairs a few weeks ago. (I have been teaching for the last two weeks with a black eye.) 

And then there are my other students. The ones I had last year who literally saved my life by giving me focus and purpose after the sudden death of my father. I only see them a handful at a time for SAT prep. They check on me constantly.  I am having a challenging day because my chronic insomnia won last night, and my family is currently leaving emotional skid marks on me. I was sitting in the conference room being skidded on by my family via phone. I was slumped because of all of the above. One of my students knocked on the door to make sure I’m okay. 

Day Nineteen

Day 19.

A side effect of knowing the end is nigh is that my stress level is so much better. It is now 18 and a half days left.  This week is teacher appreciation week. We get to wear jeans. 

That seems to be the norm in schools across the country. Teacher appreciation= jeans day (s). Personally, I would love a” wear pajama bottoms and teach from a recliner day”, but nobody asked me. 

The parents are feeding us this week, which is amazing as most of our parents are Mexican American and the food is usually amazing. I do appreciate that. Admin has pulled together all of the dogs and the ponies and are pretending that they give a teeny-tiny rat’s behind about our welfare, hence the jeans. Forget for a minute that we have a teacher on maternity leave and for some reason our highly overpaid onsite sub isn’t covering the majority of those classes. Other teachers are covering. We were told that during this month we may not get our usual planning time off as we will be covering for teachers who are out.  I’m not entirely thrilled about this. I had to be out for three days because I had a fall which gave me a black eye. I was also out for three days because my grandmother died. ( It was a hell of a week. ) 

This weekend two kids that I taught six years ago sent me the following: 

“ I just wanted to let you know that you have had a very important effect on my life. You instilled in me my love of reading and my insatiable hunger for knowledge and truth. You teaching me (sic) has made me a better person, and I owe a lot of who I am today to your classes all the way back in the 6th grade and I can not thank you enough.” 

This from a child who stands out in my memory because while he wasn’t the easiest student, he is one of the kindest. It absolutely blows my mind that he is now a senior. 

My fourth period class also had some heartfelt words in a similar vein. One of my juniors emailed me to ask what my favorite cake flavor is. 

It almost makes me want to stick around. 

That’s an almost.

Why am I leaving the classroom? I will unravel this in small pieces as I am currently completing my manifesto.   It is not my choice.  

What would you think if a school of 200 students expelled three students over a single school year, suspended 10+ students, and had approximately 20 students withdrawn?  Please factor in that 5 teachers are not returning. At least one is leaving the profession