My Journal:

On Sunday, I ran the senior awards brunch, a two-hour event where scholarships and awards from various organizations but particularly the PTSA, gives out awards to recognize seniors. I had to emcee the event and keep the pace going; we also do Senior Reminiscences and the first showing of the Senior VIdeo. It all went smoothly. Then as the senior class advisor, I'm expected to give Closing Remarks. I worked on my speech 48 hours before the event, rehearsed it a few times, had some edits from Brian and my sister Carol, and then went with it. Apparently it was mind-blowingly amazing because I had rave compliments from my principal as soon as I stepped off the stage and all my colleagues had their jaws hanging open in awe, and after the event was over, moms were coming up to me with tears in their eyes saying it was the most touching and beautiful speech they had heard. I might have to dig it up and post it on Livejournal haha, though now I've probably hyped it up too much and it'll be anti-climatic and it'll be an awful read.

On Monday, when I returned to school, I found out that I was awarded a $1000 EcoSchool grant to work on coastal dune replenishment, so that was awesome! I'm super excited to get started on this project, and my principal was thrilled to win another award.

And today, I took a group of my students in the Marine/Environmental Science Club that I run to a 4H Climate Change Summit. The goal of the summit was to raise awareness about climate change in middle and high school students, and task them with conducting a community-based service project that addressed/mitigated climate change, raise awareness within individual communities, and then report back on the results. We ended up finishing in second place and won $200! Hurray!

Jan 13 - classroom echomyst
Here is a picture of my classroom. I actually teach in two different rooms-- this is my freshman Marine Biology classroom, which is a lab science. It was recently renovated and completely redone after Superstorm Sandy in 2012-- new desks, new chairs, new cabinets, new walls, new floors! There is ample cabinet space with the redesign, and I increased countertop space along the edge (previously had 3 sinks along the wall edge, but now only 1 at the back of the room). The student desks didn't exist in this configuration before the storm; before the storm they sat at lab benches in groups of six, which meant that some students had their backs to me as I lectured! It was installed in the era when they believed that all science learning should be done experientially with no lecture, so there wasn't even a whiteboard or projector. Kids were supposed to just do labs on their own and discover science--- which works I guess in theory until you realize that we're not all geniuses, so we do need some guidance to get the "ahah" moments in life. Just because I give you a beaker and some chemicals, it doesn't mean you're going to figure it out on your own without some background notes or some lecture material... I like the student desk configuation in pairs, and then allow them to push the tables together to work in teams, or to work around the edge of the room with the microscopes or other equipment...


Jan 18 - something iconographic of where you live like the place you would definitely tell tourists not to miss zhelana
I snapped this photo on the way to work. I am taking this photo from the student parking lot for my high school, so we are within a stone's throw of an iconic lighthouse. The Sandy Hook Lighthouse (pictured below) is the oldest operating lighthouse in the United States. I like how it looks so stormy and overcast in this photo. It is a great sight to visit, and I think very informational about the history of how this land came to be a National Park. And tours are free!

Jan 22 - your desk zhelana
The first photo is a picture of the teacher desk in the classroom (first picture in this post). It's a huge mess. I share this classroom with another teacher, and we each have it for half the day. Things on the desk include: handouts to be passed out to students, work that has been collected from students, stationary (pens, scissors, markers, paperclips, stapler, and hole-puncher, which apparently no high school student has in their homes), and a phone.

The second photo is the desk in the teacher's room which is directly next to the classroom. It is a communal teacher room, one of two available on campus, that is shared by 30 teachers. Space is at a premium in this room, and we don't really have the luxury of storing our teaching materials in this room because it's only the size of about 15 x 30... and yes, again, for 30 teachers. It's actually one of the main gripes of teachers at our school, that we keep losing teacher rooms (we've lost 2 in the last 4 years) to become permanent classrooms. For example, my classroom pictured above is utilized for all periods of the day (I use it for half the day, and the other teacher uses it for the other half of the day), which means I can't access any of my files or materials during my prep. I also can't prep for my classes during my prep, like getting test tubes or teaching materials ready in advance. If I teach during the morning, then I have to come in early to do the prepwork, and if I teach in the afternoon, I have to give up my lunch to do it. Major gripe.

Only like at least three times a day, when we are out and around town running errands, a stranger will inevitably ask: "so are you excited to get back to school? What grade are you in? Oh, you're starting Kindergarten? HOW EXCITING!!!"

Erika just shrugs non-commitally and avoids eye contact, and looks incredibly interested in her shoes or her fingernails. The truth is, I think she is terrified.

When she found out that going to Kindergarten meant leaving the school that she's been at since 2013, she first tried the subtle "you know, mom, they have Kindergarten at [school she is currently attending pre-K]" I told her I knew, but she wasn't continuing in private school, and she was switching to our neighborhood public elementary school.

Erika then tried the dramatic my-life-is-over: "But I won't know anybody!" wailing, to which I told her she'd make new friends, and we certainly could continue play dates with her old friends.

Because no, we're not paying $14,000 a year for her for Kindergarten, when there is a perfectly acceptable low-cost public school available!

When she reached the acceptance stage, and started asking questions like: "So what is my Kindergarten teacher's name? Am I allowed to wear dresses on gym days? Where is the cafeteria? Where do I go for Aftercare? Where is my classroom? Are we allowed Free Play if we are done with our work or do we have to sit in our seats until everyone is done? If we need to get a drink of water, what is the rule?" and a lot of other questions that I've forgotten, as I looked quite blankly at her and gave a lot of "I dont know, I guess we'll find out" answers.

This freaked her out. I guess like mother, like daughter--- we both are careful planners. We like to know what is the day's schedule, the to-do list, the so-called POTD (military speak for "Plan of the Day").  "Aren't you supposed to know these things?!" she said, a little hysterical.

On Friday, they held a Kindergarten Orientation, so Erika and I attended the 30-minute event that should've been better titled "The event where the principal repeats everything verbatim that was clearly outlined in the 6-page Welcome Packet sent home to all families"--- things like when the school day starts, and what supplies are needed, how to sign up for the phone blast for emergencies, and how to pay for school lunches. Erika had the chance to meet her Kindergarten teacher, Ms. Prettyman, and it was the same person who had given her the diagnositc test for learning assistance (i.e. to identify students who may need a learning aide), so Erika cheered up at the thought.

When it came time to walk with her teacher to the classroom, she freaked out! She started doing a panicked dance with her feet, a pitter-patter frenzied running-in-place, then she grabbed my hand and wouldn't let go. "I can't do it, mommy, I can't!" she said in a panicked voice, and then when she looked behind her, the teacher and her class had left, which made her panic even more. "My teacher's gone! I lost my teacher!" she yelled hysterically. Luckily a staff member approached and I explained that we lost Ms. Merryman, and they kindly escorted Erika down the hallway (parents were asked to remain behind to listen to the principal regurgitate the Welcome Packet, remember).

At the end, the students returned to us, and Erika ran up to me when she spotted me in the crowd. She said she didn't remember any of her classmates' names, but she did like the classroom, and Ms. Prettyman promised them that she'd read them at least one book every day, which seemed a very important promise to Erika, and she quite liked Ms. Prettyman for it. She said the classroom looked fun but she didn't spot a Gym so she was concerned about where they'd be running around, as she was quite sure they weren't supposed to run in the classroom or the hallways. Then we came home and spent an hour using the Brother P-Touch Label Maker to label all her school supplies and pack her new sparkly pink Barbie backpack full of lots of new supplies and get ready for the start of school after Labor Day on Tuesday Sept 8.

The students had Final Exams from Monday through Thursday, and today was graduation. Our graduation ceremony is held outdoors on an old military parade grounds next to our school, the same one we use for physical ed. It rained in the morning and left the grass soggy, but the sun came out (leaving us at a sweaty 82 F) with a gentle ocean breeze and stormy gray clouds in the distance.

The speeches were poignant-- I like how we don't insist on having the valedictorian and salutarian speak. Instead, we allow any graduating senior to submit a speech for review by a panel of teachers. The students' name is kept confidential until we short-list it to five or so speeches that we feel best exemplify the spirit of what should be conveyed at a graduation ceremony. The five students then speak before the panel, and two students are selected.

A grandparent tried to prevent me from seating in the seats reserved for the faculty. She grabbed my hand, then said repeatedly "Excuse me, these seats are reserved! These seats are RESERVED!" And I had to as nicely as possible, smile and say, "yes, I understand, but these are reserved for the teachers. And I'm a teacher" but she didn't understand/agree/hear me?

A senior had heat stroke and had to leave the stage. Ambulance showed up and all. Stripped his gown off, gave him ice water, had him sit down in the shade, etc.

I took lots of photos with graduating seniors. I wore my sunglasses. The sunshine and all, you know. And also the tears. But really, the sun was in my eyes. I'll miss them.

Parent-teacher conferences this past Thursday with Erika's pre-K teacher, Miss Andrea.

Miss Andrea is 8 months pregnant and starting maternity leave in 2 weeks, so Miss Tina, who will be taking over the class, was there too.

( tl;dr Erika is doing well academically )

BUT, she got into her first fight at school. I knew about it beforehand, of course, because when I mentioned to Erika that I was going to meet with her teacher, she confessed immediately. Remember Addison? (Link: http://aliki.livejournal.com/631816.html) Summary is that Addison had asked for Erika's new hairclip, and had said if Erika didn't give her the hair clip, she wouldn't be friends with her any more. Erika gave her the hairclip, with the following logic: Addison is my friend, so I should give her my clip. Of course, two weeks later, Addison came to school sporting the hair clip, and when Erika asked for it back, Addison said no.

According to Erika's pre-K teacher, what they heard a commotion and saw Erika lunge at Addison and place her hands on Addison's shoulders (the motion where you'd grab someone and shake them). Miss Tina yelled "ERIKA!" and Erika froze, removed her hands, and tears welled up and she sobbed "I'm sorry, Miss Tina!" Her pre-K teachers mentioned it because Erika is genuinely very even-keeled, sweet-natured, and they describe her as the "class' moral compass", so they were surprised by her emotional outburst/aggression.

According to Erika, she had walked over to the group to play during "free play", and asked if she could join them. Mackenzie and Emi said "yes", but Addison looked up and said in a mean voice "no". Erika asked why and Addison said "because we're not friends." (Mind you, Erika has been referring to Addison all week as her 'best friend'). Erika then turns to walk away and join some other girls playing, and Addison says "you're not allowed to play with them either." What happens next is unclear, because Erika tells me "I don't know what happens next, but then we had our hands on each other's shoulders, and Miss Tina caught me holding Addison, and Addison had to go into 1-minute time-out but I didn't, and I told Miss Tina that it was both our fault, but Miss Tina said it was OK and only Addison got in trouble."

I told them the story of the hairclips and suggested the two of them are working through some relationship issues. Miss Andrea implied that she's had conversations with Addison's mother about Addison's behavior-- she's the social queen of the class, up to a lot of mischief, a lot of whispering under her breath and tall tales to the teacher, and generally not cool behavior. Her teacher said "I kind of silently felt like 'you go, girl!' for Erika" which implies to me Addison mistreats Erika quite often, and Erika finally stood up to her shenanigans.

Erika and I talked about her friendship with Addison (Lord knows daughters don't listen to their mothers if their mothers flat out said "don't be her friend"...) and I asked leading questions like: Why do you call Addison your best friend? What makes a good friend? Is the way Addison treating you the way you treat a friend? These questions got her thinking a little bit about their friendship, and she agreed that it wasn't a very even relationship (Erika is the giver and Addison is the taker), but like a moth to the flame, I think Addison just has that addictive personality with flair and is the center of attention and the sun shines brightly on her little golden hair, so Erika can't help but want to like her. A smile thrown Erika's way, a kind gesture carelessly discarded in Erika's direction, and she believes Addison truly is her best friend.

Erika had a second meltdown, which I know for some preschoolers, happens a lot, but Erika is fairly even-keeled and though she is emotional, she rarely goes hysterically overboard, to the point of hyperventilating, with frantic gulps of air, hiccups, tears streaming down her face, boogers dripping out, and her mouth contorted into something really awful. But it happened, again.

Again, on a Saturday. And now I'm realizing it may have to do with Chinese school. We were an hour into class, and she started getting "noodgy"; a series of "I am hungry", "I am thirsty", "my ankle is itchy", "my pants don't fit", "my hair hurts", and "I've got a bug bite" statements. This kept interrupting the flow of the class, and she kept coming over to me to say "I need a hug" and "what are you doing?" (Parents have to sit in the class for the pre-K level) Then she escalated to refusing to participate when the teacher asked her to do tasks, and just bursting into tears when she looked at me. I took her out of the class into the hallway, and asked her what was going on, and between sobs, she said "I dont understand! This is too hard! I can't do it! I don't know what she is saying!"

I realized, in this moment, that up until this moment, Erika has never had a hard time in school. She is very intelligent-- she is academically advanced, she is socially adjusted, she is emotionally sensitive to her peers. She shares her toys and food, she takes turns, she volunteers to help her pre-K teacher, she leads her class by example, she is constantly praised as being a model student. She knows all her letters and has been able to write her name since she was 3 years old. She reads haltingly and she can sound out most words, and spell a few. She knows her numbers and has started doing basic addition, subtraction, and even multiplication (I think we are up to 3 x 3). So suffice to say, school has always been easy. She breezes through assignments, she grasps concepts easily, and while she is aware that other students struggle (she has pointed this out to me on several occassions, citing peers that did not understand a concept, or struggle to write their name, or can't zip up their jackets; not in a mean way, but a sort of innocent "did you know Jack is still learning how to spell his name?")

So today, in her fourth week at Chinese school, she is overwhelmed, confused, and frightened. For her first time in school, she is not the leader, she doesn't have her hand up when the teacher asks a question, and she has to rely on body language and non-verbal cues to figure out the teacher instructions (things like "sit down", "stand up", "hand up if you know the answer", and "line up").

And my heart broke a little bit. I had failed her, as her Chinese mother. I had not exposed her to enough Chinese, I am unable to teach her a language that I expect her to learn, I had not prepared her for this day. I know enough Chinese to hold a basic conversation with a stranger sitting next to me at the airport: "how are you?", "what do you do for a living?", "where are you headed?", "what's with the weather today", and "that smells delicious, where did you get that?" are in my repertoire. I can talk about how things cost too much (for haggling prices with a merchant), where is the bathroom (always important), and I don't speak much Chinese (very important when you look Chinese). But what is the word for "carnations", "lions", "grades", or "sphere"? I do not know. I can't say "stressed", "jungle", "bouncing", or "livid". Living where I do, in NJ, I do not speak it to anyone, I have not used it in years, since I left Taiwan in 1998. I do not have Chinese-speaking friends, nor Chinese-speaking relatives, nor a need to use it in my daily life, here in NJ.

The good news is the four times we've been to Chinese school over the past month, a lot of words and phrases are coming back to me. And thus far, I'm proud to report I haven't yet heard any Chinese spoken that I was confused or didn't understand. This led a fellow mom to comment in Chinese: "hey, you say you are not fluent in Chinese, yet you understand all that we say!" But yet, here is my daughter, struggling and crying, confused and scared. I told her to take a deep breathe. I reassured her that other children were sitting in that classroom, just as confused and lost as she was (she gave me a disbelieving look, but a parent chimed in, saying "yes, it's true! Kylie doesn't understand any Chinese either!") and I also told her sometimes in life, we will encounter things that are hard to learn, and yet it is worth learning (again, another disbelieving look thrown my way).

Erika has been emotional of late, as she adjust to a busier schedule. This Saturday morning, she woke up, I made her sit down for breakfast instead of playing with her toys because we had to get to Chinese school from 9:30 am - 12:30 pm, and as I was rushing around trying to get myself dressed and Amelia changed, I asked her to put away her clothes that I had just washed and folded, and she burst into tears. Brian went over to talk to her, and she said she feels like I keep asking her to do more and more work, and she has no time to play anymore.

I told her: "fine, I'll put away your clothes, when I get done changing myself and Amelia, and then after putting away my clothes and Amelia's, I will come back and put away your clothes."  But she just whimpered sadly as she tried to put her clothes away, in what Brian accuses me of having a passive-aggressive tone with her, which implies even though I am verbally saying is OK, my tone is saying is not.

I told her part of growing up involves helping out around the house. If she wants to be treated like a big girl--  some of the perks she enjoys include staying up until 10 PM to watch fireworks on Fourth of July, or going to the racetracks with her dad and eating cotton candy and hotdogs for dinner and coming home at 9 PM, or going to an amusement park, or going to my school events (these are big girl things that she couldn't do when she was younger)-- is that she has to help out like a big girl. Things like: feeding the dog, being quiet when Amelia is napping, taking the trash out, putting away her clothes, showering herself, and dressing herself.

It is an adjustment period because this year I was on maternity leave since March, so instead of being in school, she was home with me (3 days a week starting in April, and full-time starting in June) for many months. She'd still wake at 7 AM, we'd play and go out on excursions to the playground or some recreational activity. We'd picnic in the park or feed the horses. We'd enjoy playdates with other children with stay-at-home moms and spend hours at the library, reading books. We'd walk the dog and splash in the inflatable pool in the backyard. We painted, and drew, and danced, and sang songs, and more.

And then September came-- I returned to work and she attends full-day pre-K, every day. She gets off the bus at 4 PM, she has an hour of play with the dog outside, some time to play inside with her toys, then it's dinner time, shower time, and a snack with two 20-min episodes of TV while she winds down, then bedtime. On Thursdays, she has 1 hour of ballet. On Saturdays, she has 2 hours of Chinese language instruction followed by 1 hour of Chinese dance. On infrequent Sundays, there is an hour of church. On weekends, homework takes about 1 hour to complete. Is it unreasonable? I don't think so, but it must feel like quite an adjustment after many lazy, fun-filled days of summer.

For those new to my Livejournal, I was a senior in college, living in a dorm room in upper Manhattan, on September 9, 2001. I was not an American citizen; I was a citizen of a Muslim-based nation. I posted on LJ within minutes of the first plane crash, and continued to post several times in the coming days. I went back in my Archives and read some of them... there was so much confusion and so much fear. At the time, I didn't write about how I felt emotionally, because I wasn't sure myself how I felt. I wrote stuff down like a journalist, very matter-of-factly, chronicling as much as I could of what I was learning.

In the coming 13 years, I wrote some angry posts on the anniversary of 9-11, and other years I pleaded for people to do good, to be the light in the darkness. Some years I felt so sad, and other years I felt hopeful. It's funny how 13 years later, I stood at the Remembrance Ceremony held at the high school I taught at, and realized that this freshman class will be the last class that was alive on 9-11. Shivers ran down my back when I realized that the next generation of freshmen that enter high school next year, some of them may have lost fathers, uncles, or grandfathers, in the tragedy. You see, my high school is in close proximity to NYC (a 40-minute ferry ride takes you right to downtown Manhattan). We are within sightline of where the World Trade Center stood, and many parents are still commuters to NYC, even today.

A teacher started to cry during the principal's speech, which set three other teachers off, including me. We didn't just see the tragedies unfold on TV. We saw the black smoke with our own eyes. We smelt that awful smell of what must be things that should not be burned. We heard the police sirens. We were the ones, standing in our homes in New York City, holding our phones, and not being able to make any phone calls because all the lines were busy. How scared and isolated we felt, how unsure we were of our worlds, yet how connected we felt with every other soot-covered, tired and trodden person walking down the streets.

Many of my friends have posted "Never Forget". Others are angry at the implication that we would ever forget. Some suggested that we should show the video footage of the plane crashes to students. 13 years later, I still feel angry, afraid, saddened, and hopeful. I wonder if it'll ever change.