Snapshots and snippets

There are moments when time drags. Seconds creep slowly by at a rate that could drive one crazy. Then there are moments where you dare not to blink because of what is happening. For me, the last two weeks have fallen into this category. And though I could write many micro-posts about each, I figured an update in snippet form would be more appropriate.

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6 am, Thursday December 4th:
Grey and I wake to do the usual morning routine. Once the Beats are settled in with their morning bottles, I open my email. The first message that hits me is from the director of our daycare. Subject line "we will be closed, due to an accident at the building."

Strange.

Email sparks internet search, which results in both Grey and I looking at one another in disbelief. Disbelief because we learn that a stolen car has been crashed into our daycare, smashing the very rooms the Beats and their classmates occupy. Thankfully all this happened at 2:15 am and no one was hurt, including the auto-thieves who escape on foot.

Mass text messaging ensues. Grey and I decide to split the day. We hold the Beats close, reflecting on how bad this could have been.

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12:40 pm,  Thursday December 4th:
Last lecture for my course completed. Students have been given a take-home exam. Where previously there was excitement is now concern that I have written something that is impossible to complete. I assure them that it is very doable, but want them to work in groups to complete the exam. This clearly isn't what they have in mind.

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10 am, Tuesday December 9th:
Meeting with one of the top STEM educators in the Seattle area who Grey now refers to as DRB. I've been bouncing off the walls for the past 48 hrs and clearly am driving Grey nuts (though he is amused too). Somehow I manage to calm myself to prepare.

DRB is amazing. Funny, smart, thoughtful and clearly 2-3 steps ahead of me. As we prepare tea, it is clear she is already trying to get an assessment of my goals and interests. She makes note of resources and people who I should get into contact with. She tells me that though she doesn't have anything at the moment with her team, she is thinking about the future and what is coming down the pipe. We talk about her work, how she got into STEM education research, her path and the importance of knowing when to transition and grow.

I spend the rest of the day buzzing from the meeting. I'm filled with hope. Grey teases me about my new crush.

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3:15 pm, Thursday December 11th:
Finishing grading final exams and working on my final grade sheet. Get an email from E, my potential postdoc adviser in Boston, about the results of a recent grant application. "I can't even" she says before the forwarded message.

Find out that the review panel has decided this a worthy proposal that should be funded. But it will not be funded as there is currently no money. Options are to either accept rejection and resubmit (which take another 6 months for review) or to hang on and hope additional funds come through.

Email Grey asking how this is even possible? He points me to articles that talk about how decline in funding is causing a decline in US educational system. "People care more about apps than biomedical research."

E makes decision to wait to see if funding will come through. We chat about career choices and the future. Both of us are clearly discouraged.

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8 pm, Monday December 15th:
Grey and I are exploring other childcare options. Though we adore the staff at our daycare, a combination of lack-of-space due to my schedule switching and the realities of how unsafe the location is is prompting us to look into hiring a nanny. Our meeting goes well with this potential nanny, who seems very qualified.

We're both nervous, though. It took us awhile to become comfortable with our current situation and we are concern about how changing childcare will impact the Beats. Is this really the best decision? Will this work out? Many questions to answer and research to pursue. I'm learning that there are situations where I really hate change.

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8:30 am, Tuesday December 16th:
It's been a hard weekend. Grading finished and final grades have been submitted. I feel very beaten up after receiving a number of panicked emails from students about final grades. Many are upset and are now trying to figure out where they lost points. Some are pleading for a grade changes. These same students have evaded intervention all quarter.

I feel sick with having to respond and tell them that grades are final. Seeing the emails reminds me of grief and all that I experienced. I feel responsible for causing this panic and pain. Even though I can easily outline how points were earned and distributed. Though I was clear from the beginning about expectations. I'm left sympathizing and apologizing, wondering if I should have chased more of them down and warning them of the pending consequences.

All while I'm preparing for next quarter....

#Microblog Mondays: Embracing the season

Recipe here
Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

The guilt of grades

There's a scene from the Simpson's I've been playing through my head the last couple of days. It's an episode where the teacher's are on strike, causing the elementary school to postpone classes. Bart is obviously thrilled, but Lisa is struggling despite her emergency preparedness kit. In this scene, Lisa is bouncing off the walls, demanding that someone grade her. Marge, looking around while clearly concerned, picks up a piece of paper, draws an "A" and hands it to her daughter. Only then is she appeased. Only then is there calm.

With the end of the quarter comes finalizing grades and submission. For as long as I can remember, these periods of transition have always been hotbeds of anxiety. As an undergrad, I remember the trauma that came with unexpectedly lower grades. The anxiety; the guilt; the confusion. Explanations always revealed the expected, but for some reason I consistently managed to get it into my head that I was performing better than expected in my courses. In graduate school, I suddenly found myself on the other side of the equation. I remember working with students who insisted up to the very end that they were fine and had a firm grasp of the material. All the while with me knowing that the excel sheet I had been generating wasn't reflecting this.

Grades are a hard thing. We use them as a metric for quality, assessing performance and potential. In the ALI community, someone declaring that they have grade "A" embryos brings on cheers and hope, while grade "B" gives anyone supporting pause, trying instead to figure out how to prepare for the potential failure that seems to be looming. We grade our food, our clothing, our schools and even our physicians. Grading is a norm within our society.

But what we don't consider is the negativity that comes with attaching a grade to a person. When we give someone an "A," we assume that they are smart. What isn't taken into consideration is that their performance may be due to their ability to grasp the material or other external factors. For example, I've had students who thrive in lecture-exam based courses. Their ability to absorb the material presented to them and spit it back out is impressive. But take these same students and put them into the lab, and it usually isn't long before meltdowns happen. On the flip, I've had students who do well with presentations and group work. They thrive in these social settings. Isolate them, though, for individual projects, and the work tends not to be as good.

One of the things I love about teaching is tapping into these learning styles. Within my field, there's been a lot of work to overhaul how we present information. The focus in more on learning goals and incorporating activities so that students learn how to apply the knowledge vs. stuffing their heads full of every little bit of information. With this overhaul has come more "ah-ha" moments; the moment where students put the information together in a manner that they understand it. Granted, there's a lot of upfront work, both for myself and the students (which tends to frustrate them), but the end result is often gratifying.

Despite this and the fact that I want every one of my students to succeed, I know that at the end of the day I have to assign grades. And even though I'm meticulous with my spreadsheets, clearly laying out where points are earned and distributed, I still have that way of anxiety and guilt when I'm in this process and days after I hit the submit button. Because I know that I will have students who are shocked by the outcome of the quarter. Disappointed that they didn't do better. And even though I will not have heard from them all quarter, I know in the next 48 hours I will suddenly have questions and requests for an explanation.

I'm struggling because I'm internalizing all of this. That I should have prevented this shock some of my students are experiencing. That I should have held more meetings, required weekly meetings to check in, been more clear about expectations and even had clearer rubrics (this one I will be working on during the break). What I'm trying to remember, though, is that sometimes failure is the best teacher. That we need to fail in order to reassess and relearn. Without failure, people become comfortable and are unwilling to expand. Failure can push us to make changes or try new things we otherwise wouldn't. Failure is usually what gives rise to success.

Obviously, none of that is sinking in at the moment. Instead I'm stuck with the guilt. How I hate grading.

#MicroblogMondays: Quiver

There this moment each morning, just after I wake up but before I truly have my wits about me, where it feels like you can tune into the world. That half-dream, half-awake state where the weight of life hasn't clicked and one can simply take in their surroundings. I haven't had this moment in over a year as I've been waking to the cries of a hungry baby (or two), but with the Beats sleeping in longer it's been happening again.

In those moments of silence, there usually a peace that comes. Intoxicating, particularly on cold, clear mornings where there's temptation is simply crawl back under the covers in order to sneak in a few more moments of sleep. But there are other mornings where the air is filled with an electricity; an quivering signaling that change is on the horizon.

Today, I felt this quivering. This promise of change. All reflected in the light of the cold, clear moon. Hopefully a good omen for my interview tomorrow.

Cruise

big world little feet

small hands will move to meet

your toys and sugar sweets

when you start to crawl

you'll use your hands and knees

go wherever you please

you cannot wait to be

big enough to crawl

 and everything will be right

 when you can walk upright

 down the stairs and the hall

but first you’ve gotta

flowers are purpley

big birds up in a tree

you’ll go outside and see

and try your best to crawl

the grass is tall and green

the grass is soft and clean

it's such a silly scene

as you learn to crawl

and everything will be nice

when your steps are precise

you won't lean on the wall

but first you’ve gotta

~Crawl by Caspar Babypants

Apparently She-Beat missed the memo on this. That crawling comes before cruising, pulling up and finally walking (or sprinting, which is her brother's favorite form of transportation at the moment). No, little girl has her own ideas.

This past week we've known something was coming. She-Beat has been in PT for about a month now, working on pulling up, cruising, standing and even walking. The thought is that because of tummy issues she's been resistant to get on all fours simply because if doesn't feel good (and may even hurt), hence why she hasn't been crawling. So the idea was to work backwards; starting first with cruising, walking and then working down to crawling.

The first few PT sessions were really good. We could see that she was working hard and was making some progress. But that all came to a halt when she got sick. Instead of working, the sessions were spent consoling her.

I've been feeling a lot of guilt with She-Beat not moving. Wondering if I had just forced more tummy time or worked with her more if all of this would have been circumvented. It hasn't helped that others have suggested that she's not moving because I've been working and sending her to daycare instead. With the fear and guilt has come isolation and anger.

Last week, though, she turned a corner. Suddenly she INSISTED on standing and moving her feet, whining while watching her brother climb the stairs or race through the room. Whereas before she was completely happy to be carried, now she pushes and turns herself so that she can get in a few steps to the car in the morning. And finally, she's starting to cruise. Granted, she doesn't get terribly far and it takes her awhile, but little girl is moving her feet. None of this has been perfect and there are moments where she meltdowns in frustration. Still, she's been trying.

This morning she had a surprise for me. Two weeks ago, we purchased a good walking toy for her (the type of brakes . . . can't emphasize how important those are). We've been having her stand with it, playing with all the buttons and levers. Today I noticed she was pushing it like she was trying to propel it forward. Unlike before, where unlocking it made her mad, I found her trying to disable the break. Taking a moment to steal myself, I positioned myself in front so that I could control the toy and then reached down to click the button to make the walker mobile.

In the past, She-Beat would have screamed if the toy moved. She would have leaned way forward and cried in protest. Today, she lifted one foot and moved it forward. And then did the same thing with her other foot. She repeated this process again and again and again until we were on the other side of the room.

We still have a long way to go. There's still working on her balance, getting her to move without support. She also needs to learn about supporting herself on her knees, which will allow her to master stairs and pulling up more easily. But today that doesn't matter. Today, my little girl is mobile. And I am so proud.

#MicroblogMondays - Peace

It's nap time here at Chateau Beat. One toddler is cutting new teeth, so unhappiness and need for cuddles is high. But nap time brings a quiet, that combined with the cold, reminds me of the Christmas carol Silent Night. As I watch these two angels sleep softly, breathing peacefully, the last two lines roll through my head.

Sleep in heavenly peace. Sleep in heavenly peace.

Overcoming "bitter"

This time of year is strange in so many ways. On the one hand, there's many reasons to sit back and reflect on all the good things that have happened and be offer thanks for family, be it whatever form one considers it. But with the good can come the bad. Though less-than-pleasant memories or moments we wish could have ended differently. Those interactions that ended badly.

I've been thinking a lot about this with all the transition that has been happening. Playing some harder moments through my head and wondering if some situations could have been different. In some cases, the answer is a hard and fast "no." But in others . . . .

The catalyst for these thoughts was hearing about Grey's sister's recent plight. How Thanksgiving dinner was about to be more interesting due to an unexpected guest who was arriving with a mountain of demands and expectations. Hearing only a sliver of what was about to unfold made my hair stand on end. But what got me thinking is when I heard someone accuse this person of being "bitter."

Bitter is a hard word for me. While living with infertility, all my loses and uncertainty for the road ahead, I found this label readily attached to me when people described my mental state. Later on, when the Beats first were home, I was again labeled when I dared to disagree about parenting choices.  I've found that "bitter" is one of those words that can get thrown around for various reasons. There's the classic labeling for someone who is intent on making everyone around them utterly miserable. But I've also learned that someone can accuse someone else of being "bitter" as a way to distract from the self-loathing they may be feeling. Then there's using "bitter" to describe someone who is simply a cornered animal, too wounded and/or scared to behave in any other manner after being attacked. Or someone is "bitter" when they dare stand up for themselves and establish boundaries. In short, "bitter" is one of those words that can easily be misused.

Upon reflection, one thing I believe causes this misuse is a failure to acknowledge different viewpoints. Be it the extreme, where someone sees a situation completely differently from another, to the simple that each and everyone of us views life through a different set of lenses. No two people will see the same event in the same way. Part of this is due to life experience and how we were raised. But the other part has to do with what we bring to that situation. Be it our history, our knowledge and even our morals. Our viewpoints are as individual as fingerprints.

 While in the trenches, I was acutely reminded of how different my viewpoint was from those around me. I found myself avoiding others or certain situations in an effort to guard my heart. The images of the "normal" happy family was at times too much as I was facing an uncertain path ahead due to infertility and repeated loss. The salt in the wound was hearing that my efforts made me "bitter." After all, why couldn't I just be happy that so-and-so easily achieved the family I so longed for? Why cloud their joy with my pain? Why couldn't I just get over myself?

What I've been trying to piece together is how to step away from the accusations and instead step to walk beside someone else. To actually learn to listen, learning from what each interaction. With Grey's sister, her viewpoint and actions are very different from my own, yet I also know that it's due to an upbringing, experiences and hurts that I never experienced. Understanding that is easy. What's hard has been trying to understand the relative she is dealing with in order to be a source of support. To try to understand where these actions are stemming from in order to help alleviate some of the anger and stress that is being experienced.

I'm the first to admit that I suck at this. I'm use to sticking up for myself and asserting myself on the world. Infertility and loss made me all the more so. But now, having the Beats in my life, I'm finding myself wanting to be aware. To truly be more empathetic. To overcome the label of "bitter infertile."