The End of the Chapter

This school year.  It has definitely been one I'll never forget.  But tomorrow is the LAST day for students.  I really thought that was enough.  But then I got the call I had been dreading - STAAR results.  Everyone in the state of Texas has an opinion on STAAR and I have yet to hear a good one. STAAR is supposed to measure student performance.  To prove whether or not a student has mastered the subject material. And while we can all agree that the accountability has to be there, we ALL agree that standardized tests are not the way to get it.  In fact, the ONLY ones who do are state legislators and Pearson.  Last year, my results were not stellar.  I ended the school year depressed, and feeling like a failure.  You see, whether we want to admit it or not, teachers are given ownership of their students' results...when they're bad.  When you succeed, you get a pat on the back, and you get to hear the accolades of what the district and everyone else did to get you there, even if you never see one other person in your room ALL YEAR LONG.  Or even worse, told that the test was easy - that must be why your students did well.

No one hesitated to come to me when the scores were less than perfect.  Where were my tutorial logs?  What did I do?  What was wrong - with me?  And there are teachers being confronted with those questions right now as we speak.  When I moved districts and entered one of the largest districts in the nation, it didn't take me long to figure out that this is a number game.  Produce the numbers or sink.  To compound this, I somehow landed a job at one of the up and coming schools in that district and it was crystal clear that the results - good or bad would be all on me.  Benchmark after benchmark, results came back that were not promising.  I mean, I got my first gray hair this year and I partially blame that stupid test.  I freaked out at home, got frustrated at work.  I was one massive hot mess.  I was in a new subject, teaching AP for the first time, and would be setting the bar for the school's first EOC on that level.  I know the students are more than a number.  I know I am more than a number.  But in the end, people I didn't know would look at a number on a piece of paper and decide if I was a good teacher and if my students were "smart".  (And THAT is what made me try for a spot at a private school.)

I am proud to report that 100% of my students passed.  I give them full credit.  Because by the time they took that test, I was emptied.  I had done everything in my power to get them ready and was still AFRAID that it wouldn't be enough.  The morning they took the STAAR, I prayed that God would just let them do they best they could and give me the courage to just accept whatever percentage came out of that.  I didn't want another year of sub-par scores on my record as a teacher.  I didn't want the students to have to face summer school and retests so they could graduate.  And I had secretly decided that a bad performance would mark the end of my teaching career, because the tests were showing I was not a "good" teacher.  I was going to use the next year to figure out a new career path.

I went through all this to say one thing - if your scores were not what you wanted or were expecting, this does NOT make you the failure.  It is a failure of the state system.  My desire to help students this year was no different than last year.  My knowledge of history was not greater (in fact, it was less - being my first year in U.S. and AP).  My teaching methods hadn't changed.  Students want to pass those tests.  There is not one student who goes into a state test and purposefully fails the test.  And they are no more failures than we (teachers) are when the scores are bad.  There are bad teachers, sure, but the STAAR doesn't point them out any better than the TAKS test did.  It just discourages those who DO care.  I also don't want to belittle success stories.  Those girls were obviously doing some hard, behind-the-scenes work to throw out a number like that, and I am beyond proud of them.

Finally the Weekend

This has been a long week, in every way possible. Thankfully, it wasn't anywhere near the drama I was going through a few months ago. We seemed to have settled in a peaceful period, no matter how brief it may be. The quiet, however, seems to have it's own challenges. Loneliness for one. And I recognize that to some extent that this is a self imposed exile but I'm starting to feel the cabin fever seeping in. Which is odd, because I'm hardly ever home. We are always on the go.  Lately, though, I feel like I have nothing new to say. The divorce? Not settled. Work? Not fun. The kids? Happy. I've had the feeling that I was starting to get boring but this week just confirmed it. I don't want to be the person that no one wants around because they just bring down the mood. As much as I try, however, I've become just that. 

The beginning of this week also brought me face to face with reality that even though things are starting to fall in place, I can't rewind time. My past is always there. And some mistakes will haunt you a life time. There will always be the nagging question of "what if?". And in my case, it was more damned if you do, damned if you don't. (At least from my perspective - two choices and both ended with "what if?") So these slightly pessimistic thoughts have left me wanting a little solitude and at the same time- hating it. This probably makes absolutely no sense, but I'm forcing myself to write. Hope you have a wonderful long weekend!

Looking Back

It is finally May!  I'm so excited that I'm not even bothering to hide it anymore.  Part of me wishes I was a time traveller and I could go back to myself a year ago and just give me a pat on the back.  I could not have ever imagined that I'd be where I am today.  Next week will be a BIG week for me.  I've got an interview that could lead to a very awesome job.  And that darn STAAR test is on Tuesday.  The end of next week will mean I only have TWO weeks left!  Nine months ago I thought this month would never come.  It's been a roller coaster of a school year.  For teachers, MAY is the end of the year.  Not December.  I feel a lot more closure when I pack up my room and leave for the summer.  And this year, I'm closing the door to my old life and starting a brand new one.  Not everything about this year was horrible.  I enjoy the majority of the girls I work with and have made some great new friends with the teachers I work with.  But this place was just a transition.  It began the year that would change my life.  Deciding to leave Hardin was the first leap.  It was my first break out of my comfort zone.  It gave me the courage to try new things.  That a risk could be worth it and good things could happen.  I needed that.  This year has taught me that I am strong enough.  I'm strong enough to be a single mom.  I'm strong enough to be a teacher without the awesome coworkers I had at Hardin.  I'm strong enough to drive to Houston five times a week and on the days I didn't go, deal with one of the hardest parts of my life - my divorce.  I haven't had a break.  Despite my attendance records, every day I was not at work, I was dealing with a lawyer, an ex or my sick kids.  I have every intention of making the most of this summer.  I'm going to make it to the mountains.  Even if it's just for the weekend.  I'm going to meet new people and bring the kids somewhere new.  This will not be a lazy summer.  I'm going to get to work on the house and finish my projects (and probably start some new ones...you know me).  I can't wait to get going.  Less than a month now....let the countdown begin.

Mother's Day Tribute Part 6: My BFF

I have covered several of my inspirations that are older than me, here's the first mom that is my age.  My beautiful friend, Leslie.  I can't tell you how excited I was when Leslie told me she and Charlie were expecting.  And then, 2 months later, I found out I was pregnant too!  We have gone through every part of motherhood together, and it is awesome (and not planned).  I have been surrounded by little kids for as long as I can remember. Leslie, was not.  I can remember going to visit her and Ro for the first time and being bathed in germ-X.  Oh, and this little baby turned my BFF into a woman who would cry at the drop of a pin.  I kid you not.  Our pregnancies were super fun.  She was crying and I threw up.  :) But then, both the boys were here and they were oh, so epic.  It's been a blast watching my best friend take on the role of mom.  She totally rocks at it too.  I also have fun comparing our parenting styles.  It only goes to prove that there is no one right way to parent.  Leslie is patient, attentive and always on the look out for ways she can help her son be a better person.  She makes about 85% of his food from scratch!!! And makes me totally jealous when she can get him to eat a bowl of gumbo.  (Meanwhile, I'm celebrating ONE bite of a chicken nugget)  Most of the time, we sit around and wonder when we got old enough to have kids, and what the heck happened to the two teenagers that would stay up too late and get in trouble.  But a lot of the time, I just stand in awe of all that she accomplishes.  She is so talented.  Super mom, awesome cook, great wife, and best friend on the planet.  Did I mention she owns a great coffee shop/bakery??? (#brewedawakening #govisitnow)   I'm so thrilled that I can force my son to be Ro's friend and not have to worry about what he's doing or who he's with.   I look forward to seeing both of them grow up into the awesome young men they will be some day.  Love you, Leslie!  You're amazing.

Mother's Day Tribute Part 5: the Greats

I'm writing this series completely from memory.  In other words, my mom and family are only chiming in after they are written and published.  I'm trying to take a good look at what I remember from each person and really evaluate what I have learned from them. The next three women are together because I a. wasn't as close as I'd like to be to them or b. Didn't spend enough time because of their age and mine.

First, my great grandma Nola.  By the time I came along, she had already raised kids and grandkids, and it was her turn to be taken care of.  I remember spending time at her house while Mom helped watch her. She didn't like the smell of popcorn so we would eat it outside in her garage at night.  I distinctly remember the smell of bengay in her house but this could just be my imagination.  I didn't know her well personally.  I do know the people she raised and the stories they tell lead me to believe she was a tough cookie who kept her family in line and taught them the value of a hard day's work.  My PawPaw was her baby boy and the typical Mama's boy if there ever was one.  He built a house right next to hers and took care of her and his family together.  All the family tells me that Mom and PawPaw were just like her, so I'm going to interpret that as sharp, honest and hard working.  I do know she made our home what it is today.  We enjoy beautiful oak trees and the most wonderful piece of land in the world because of their dedication and hard work, and that's a legacy to pass on.

Next - Great Grandma Granny. No, I have no idea why she needed two titles.  I was not the first grandchild to come along so she was already named. I did have the pleasure of knowing her.  Everyone says I have her eyes.  My grandma, Mildred, could speak French and was local nobility.  She and my great-grandfather were some of the old rice farmers who made this area the rice capital of the US.  I remember going over to her house as a kid and admiring her doll collection.  She would slice apples for me and sprinkle them with salt while she made gumbo and talked to MawMaw.  My great grandfather died young, and I never met him.  But together they had 7 kids, who all had a couple of kids themselves, and are, to this day, one of the largest families in the area.  I have cousins I have never met and a family reunion looks more like a rally.  By the time I showed up, she was married to Leon, who would always call me "my girl" in his thick French accent and tell me all kinds of stories.  I treasure my heritage from that side of the family.  It gives me roots and culture and I love it.  I'm not one of the many Americans who don't know their cultural ties - I wear it proudly and remember Granny's grace and charm.

Finally, there is Nanny.  Nanny isn't my grandma, but she is the kids' great-grandma. Thankfully, she is still around and I have every intention of getting to know her.  This gal has some spunk.  I have never seen her down.  She is always cheery and wearing a grin.  She loves each of her grandchildren and dotes on them like a mother hen.  She, unfortunately, lives far away so we don't get to see her as often as we would like.  But I have seen the impact she has on her family.  She is a hard worker who likes to laugh.  She, too, has taken care of children and grandchildren, and has never slowed down.  I always enjoy her visits and cannot wait for her to meet Layan.  I know Matt loved her dearly and all of her grandchildren do.  Everyone who knows her, loves her.  And I like to think Layan has her cheery demeanor.

Mother's Day Tribute Part 4: My Namesake

My family has a ton of funny stories.  We are funny people.  Or maybe funny looking lol.  I remember always being amused as a kid when people were surprised that I have a dad and yes, he lives with us.  My dad makes quiet people look talkative.  Even less people know that I did know my paternal grandparents.  They're about as talkative as he is.  This series is a tribute to the mothers in my life, so I will save Big Daddy for another day.  My MeeMaw was quite the character.  A staunch Church of Christ member, I can remember getting pamphlets from her on every visit.  We went to her church at least once a visit and more if there was a ladies' meeting or domino tournament.

Speaking of dominos...MeeMaw taught me everything I know about being an original gamer.  The woman had a collection of board games that would make a museum curator drool. There was none of this "everyone's a winner" foolishness.  Oh no.  I remember being very young (5...maybe 6) and her killing off my pieces one by one and laughing.  It was go big or go home...crying.  Evenings were filled with dominos, Pollyanna, Skip-bo, Uno, and all other kinds of card/board games.  We often played partners, with MeeMaw pairing up with my brother because of his only boy status.

You see, the Thomas clan had one boy - my dad.  He had one biological son - my brother.  And because my grandmother was firmly planted in the 1940s, Phillip got an honored spot in the family because he would carry on the family name.  This was the only redeeming factor of my father's second (gasp!) marriage.  She made no secret that she did not approve of divorce or my parents' marriage after a divorce.  This, and her loyalty to family blood lines always made for some fun visits when Mom visited with us. My name is Christy.  Mom swears I was named for Christ.  And when they told my MeeMaw, they were shocked to discover a long held secret.  Her name was Christine!  My grandmother had always gone by the name Flogene (don't ask - I have no idea).  Turns out her legal name was Christine.  I can only imagine what was going on in Mom's head - putting all that time into picking THE perfect name only to discover you had accidentally copied a family name. haha!

My MeeMaw was a hard woman to crack.  To be perfectly honest, I found it hard to relate to her as a kid.  But now that I'm older, I have grown to appreciate a lot of things for her.  She was loyal to God first, family second.  She taught me a lot about family honor and to take pride in being a Thomas.  She transplanted a love of gardening and keeping plants and animals.  She loved her old collie, Tina, till the very end.  She was the epitome of southern hospitality - always ready with tea and baked goodies.  Sharp as a whip.  I sometimes think I get some of my wit from her.  She loved a good competition and had a beautiful smile.  I don't have a digital copy of a picture to share with you, but take my word - beautiful.  She stood by her family through tough times.  She was a child of the Great Depression and always reminded us to be wise with our money.  She began every letter "My dearest, darling granddaughter", and wrote me loyally every month until her health began to fail.  I hope one day I make her proud to carry the family memories onto my children.

Mother's Day Tribute Part 3: My MawMaw

My students find it hilarious that I have a MawMaw and I am willing to call her that in public.  It doesn't bother me in the least.  My MawMaw is one cool chick, which is why she is making an appearance on my blog.  My MawMaw has always been like a second mom to me.  She helped raise me and my siblings from day 1.  Not in the "my parents are too busy for me so the grandparents must take over" kind of way.  She literally lives next door.  So, my childhood was about evenly split between my house and hers.  Like all good grandparents, she is a mixture of leniency and discipline.  She has never hesitated to put us in our place.  I remember her popping me on the back of the leg with a fly swatter.  WATCH OUT CPS! At the same time, her house was THE place to be on the weekends.  We each had a night - mine was Saturday.  Saturday night at sunset, I would walk over and we would go rent a movie and then pig out on junk food.  We would watch all kinds of stuff.  When it got too bad, she would hurry to run in front of the TV so I couldn't see whatever was happening.  The next morning, it was whatever I wanted for breakfast before I had to be back home in time for church.

There are so many good stories about my Mawmaw that I don't even know where to start.  Before our neighborhood got busy, we would stand out on her porch and look at the stars.  She would point out the abnormal ones and tell me they were UFOs.  Once I got old enough - I tried to convince her they were Russian spies.  ((We also can't talk about that on the phone - it may flag us with the government - for realz) During the Y2K scare, she had an entire sunroom/secret storehouse built on to store food for when the technology crashed.

My favorite stories are of her and my PawPaw.  In some of them, they were trying to wring each other necks and in others, two teenagers in the 50's falling in love.  I love looking at old pictures of them together.  They were both so beautiful. Inside and out - honest, stubborn, hard working and dedicated.  Both of them had their flaws and there were plenty of times they could've called it off, but they stuck it out and were married for almost 50 years.  And there has never been one doubt in my mind (despite all the stories of their fights and near-breakups) that my Mawmaw loved PawPaw as much as the day they got married.  She is the matriarch of our family.  We can all be mad at each other and every single one will go to her first.  She is our rock when things get tough and she is the one that keeps us connected to the family and to our roots.  It's because of her that we have rice at 90% of our meals (as all good rice families should) and the reason we always end up laying aside our differences to make peace.  I think I speak for the entire family when I saw we have the best Mawmaw there is and we can't imagine a world without her.