The Weirdest Thing Happened the Other Day....

 It started with a link. 

I had asked Mom to come over and watch the kids while I took Michael out to dinner. It had been a minute since we had a date, it was past due. Mom came over Sunday afternoon, and saw a house on Zillow that caught her attention. 

Mom: It’s five bedrooms! And it has a she-shed!

Me, not looking: Then it is outside our budget.

Mom: It just dropped in price. Everyone would get their own bedroom! And you could use the she-shed for Mike’s office! 

Me: Mom, stop saying she-shed.

Mom, whispering: ….she-shed.

I cave. Mom can be persistent. Whatever. Doesn’t hurt to look. Right? 

Michael and I first started thinking purchasing a house back in 2020/2021, when it looked like we were going to have to relocate to Arizona for Michael’s job. It was overwhelming, how fast the market was flipping. When we got there, we talked to the realtor who said there were 12 houses fitting our parameters that we could look at; by the next day, it was down to two; by the time we met with her to look, there was only one. Houses were being snatched up as soon as they hit the market. It was disheartening. 

The actual looking became tedious, too. Flipping through online listings, all the properties ran together. Nothing was standing out anymore, just a blur of open concepts and white walls and dingy carpet. The only time a house stood out was when it was truly odd, like a guest bathroom with saloon-style swinging doors, or a brick planter immediately inside the front door filled with wild herbs. It was all meaningless; we weren’t getting a house. It wasn’t the right time.

The other issue was of course, finances. I, as far as the credit world was concerned, did not exist. I had no lines of credit, no income, no nothing except student loans on deferment and a brief stint over a decade ago at a pet store. Banks don’t like people they know nothing about, and we didn’t want another big purchase in Michael’s name alone. We stopped looking. 

As you know, we ended up not moving. We stayed in our rent house where our landlord was nice and we focused on building equity. I finished college online, getting my degree in educational studies, special education. Started working at the school, the second highest-paying job in our marriage, after Michael’s current one. We got me two little credit cards; I would use them to buy gas, wait a couple weeks, then pay it off. Do it all again the next month. We talked about maybe moving someday, but it was vague, and the talk tapered off over time. We were holding steady. 

Mom won’t push me. Too hard, at any rate. She knows that I will dig in my heels and become obstinate, so she sent the link and left it at that. 

What the hell. I take a look.

It looks like a nice place. Little less square footage than we have in the rent house, but it uses the space better. Got a good backyard. Big established tree out in front of the house. No stupid bushes where stupid wasps could hang out. There are two sheds in the backyard, one for storage and the other has been outfitted as an office with heating and air, internet and electricity. 

Okay, sure. Why not. I send a quick inquiry about it, requesting a time to go see it. My enthusiasm is limited. Just another wander through another stranger’s house, but maybe it’ll be fun. We can get some ideas for what to do with our space, before someone else comes in and buys it. 

Almost immediately, I get a call from the realtor. The house owners are on a time-table and ready to sell. No major defects on the sellers disclosure. Not in the flood zone. Do we want to come look at it at 5? 

Meh. Sure. Why not? 

Michael and I get ready for our date. I think I wore jeans and a t-shirt. I told him I would rather be warm than cute, I already did enough to impress him. He laughed and said fair enough. 

Beforehand, we went and walked around the bookstore, killing some time. It was irrelevant to the story, but I think I would want to remember for later. But the house is over in Wylie district, so the mall is a good place to spend some time on the way. 

The neighborhood is full of families with kids; it looks quiet and safe. That big tree in the front is alive and healthy. 

We get there, and it is better than the listing pictures. There are tall ceilings. It is clean and spacious. There are these shelves way up by the ceiling for decoration that I couldn’t help but wonder “how does one clean up there?” There's a stone fireplace. The Christmas tree would look good there, I think. That was always Rhonda’s question: where would you put the Christmas tree? 

The pantry has a door that can be locked, which is important for Grubby-Hands Gabe. Of the four smaller bedrooms, one has laminate flooring and the other three have carpet. I know exactly where each of the kids will be. There’s a doggy door. I can see Gabe wedging himself in it. A lot of my considerations were about Gabe. The other three are basically stow-and-go kids--there really aren’t a lot of requirements for any of them that are abnormal. But Gabe, we have to worry about him escaping, him getting into food, him tearing things up or destroying, his loud vocalizations making the neighbors think our house is haunted (as one bright and brave child from down the street boldly inquired one day here). But…we think he could be good here. We think he could like it here. They all would.

So we get some information, thank the realtor, and head over to Red Robin, where Michael gets to hear (what probably felt like) an uninterrupted hour of me talking about the books I have been reading lately. 

It was a lovely date. 

But Michael’s still got that house on his mind. A few days pass. The realtor reaches out and asks if we filled out the pre-approval application. I tell her no, we are still working on it. Couple more days, she asks again. I text Michael. It is his day off, he’s got some time. 

Why not, right? 

While I am trying to work on Friday, I get a text. We have been pre-approved. Would we like to make an offer on the house?

What? Umm...I guess? 

The offer has been accepted! You are under contract. Would you like to hear about next steps? 

I suppose so?

This whole process is feeling absolutely surreal. This isn’t how this was going to go. The bank was supposed to say “be gone, poor people! You miscreants cannae buy a house!” (Why the bank is Scottish in my head…probably because I read too much, but who knows.) And even if we were approved, they won’t let us buy a nice house. We surely have to go and look at something that says “diamond in the rough” or “fixer upper!” We aren’t “move-in ready” family, we are more “has potential”, know what I mean? 

But that...it’s just the mindset. I did the math, and from our take home, the house and all it’s little costs will only make up 26%. And the strangest thing, we can do the down payment and things. Us Weardens, who had to budget and scrimp to buy a family dinner at Taco Bell a few years ago…but this might be happening. 

One funny story was the bank reached back out during the underwriting with a question. They said “Mrs. Wearden, we noticed that your income substantially changed between last year and this year. Can you explain that?” I sent back a reply that said “Well, I was an unpaid stay-at-home-mom for nearly 15 years, and then I got a job. So…that probably did it.” 

This all was about two weeks ago. We paid our earnest money and had inspections done. The option period came and went…

And now it looks like in June, the Abilenian Weardens are moving into their own home. 

With its very own she-shed. 

Wild. 

--Andie

Health Updates

 The last few weeks been a little too exciting for my taste.

This is C.S. Lewis.

He is the last bunny we have. 

We had thirteen rabbits. The three original, and then Sans gave birth to a litter of ten. Some were rehomed, others we lost to a fox that broke into an unsecured hutch overnight. C.S. was the one that Mikasa picked up and carried around in her mouth for a little bit back when he was still just a nugget, so he was overly attached to us. We decided this one could go ahead and live out his life with us instead of elsewhere. 

More on him later.

Last Thursday, Michael had an endoscopy scheduled. It was a routine procedure so insurance would continue to cover his GERD medication. I took off because he needed to driven to and from, as he would have to be under anesthesia.  

Lately he’s been having some stomach issues. He feels uncomfortably full all the time, and barely eats. This was how he felt ten or so years ago, when his ulcer ruptured and his stomach herniated; he started throwing up blood and ended up in the hospital. I was understandably concerned when it looked like it was happening again. The doctor ran some tests, bloodwork and ultrasound, and didn't see anything. But Michael still lost 25 pounds in three weeks. It was troublesome. I was hoping the endoscopy would yield some results.

The doctor said they found a minor hiatal hernia, small enough that they decided not to fix it right then. I asked if it would get better on its own; he said no, but it would take years for it to get worse. They also found polyps; they removed three to biopsy, but one started bleeding. They had to inject it with epinephrine and clamp it to get it to stop bleeding. They biopsied a spot they are pretty sure was caused by the GERD. We are awaiting the results of those, but the doctor says they are probably not worrisome.

I get Michael home and settled, go and run some errands, pick up some kids. When we come home, Emerald gets upset and calls me. 

C.S. Lewis is bleeding from his nose and mouth, is making this strangled wheezing sound, and is running from us like he doesn't recognize us at all.

In the week leading up to this, he was getting a little more aggressive with Emerald, which was very much unlike him. He was born at our house and we handled him every day--he's never been a biter. But he was nipping Emerald nearly every day. Not hard, but enough. 

I stuff C.S into the pet carrier and call the vet down the street that sees rabbits. That's the thing--most vets don't see rabbits; they are considered "exotics". But we are not established patients and they have a waiting room full until 8. It is 4.45. I call Sweetwater Animal Hospital, where we took Timmy the Destroyer (C.S. Lewis's father) to get neutered. They closed at 5 and we are 40 minutes away, but when I describe the problem, they tell me to get there as fast as I can, they'll wait for me.

Ben and I were terrified. He was sobbing into the bunny's fur, we could hear him struggle to get in each breath. But talking to him calmed him down, made him turn toward us and stop shaking. So we talked the entire way there. 

It was very somber for such a silly little thing as a rabbit. But Dr. Bud told us that C.S. had caught Rabbit Hemorrhagic Disease. They had seen it a lot in our area; it has a 90-100% death rate. It was wiping out cottontail populations and 4H stock, and now my little guy had it. My funny little guy that puts his cheek on yours and makes kissy sounds because that's what people do to him; who stands on his hind legs when the gate opens and binkies out of control when I walk through. 

The compassionate thing to do is usually to put the rabbit down. They are hurting, and are most likely not going to get better. But we wanted to try. Normally the bloody nose doesn't present until death, and here he was, holding on. He was breathing through his mouth because he was in respiratory distress, and his lungs crackled horribly. There were apneic moments where he would run because he couldn't draw breath at all. There were burst blood vessels in his eyes. He was scared. But he was still holding on. 

So Dr. Bud prescribed an antibiotic to prevent a secondary infection from taking him out. He said the antibiotic was as likely to kill him as the disease, but at this point it was better than nothing. 

That first night was so scary. He was exhausted but couldn't sleep, there was dried crusted blood on his face. He looked like the rabbit from Monty Python and sounded like there was fluid in his lungs. I fully expected to see a corpse in the cage in the morning. 

But there he was, swaying on his feet and still hanging on.

At work the next day, I was so noticeably distraught that it brought the people around me down. I was a dark little storm cloud, and I didn't know how to act okay. 

Emerald and Ben stayed home from school with him, so that if he passed, he wouldn't be alone. They texted me updates, telling me he got up and was moving around, trying to be closer to them. He drank a little water. He even tried to bathe himself! I thought they were being overly optimistic, willing this bun to pull through.  

Sure enough when I got home, this weak little guy hopped over to me for pets. He got winded from the exertion but it was a start. 

Slowly, he started getting better. We had fewer periods where he couldn't breathe at all. His lung sounds got clearer, and he started being able to breathe through his nose again. He was jumping up and down off of things, running around, acting like his old self. 

The only problem was that he couldn't eat.

While he was very interested, and would hop over to investigate pellets or grass or hay or fresh produce excitedly, he wasn't actually eating anything, even preferred foods. Rabbits can only go around 12 hours without eating before they go into GI stasis, and C.S. had antibiotics knock out all his healthy gut flora.

He dropped down to 5 pounds, about half his body weight from before. We had to bathe him because he had made a mess of himself and to get rid of the blood. That's when we noticed the right side of his mouth drooped. I am still not sure what caused it. At the recommendation of the vet, who was quite invested in this little rabbit's survival at this point, we started syringe feeding him yogurt to stimulate his digestive system and repopulate that bacteria. He was so hungry that he would lap it up, even if it was a very strange way to eat for him.

Today, Michael had to take him back in to get a steroid shot and NSAIDS which should hopefully get little CS eating again. 

I can't believe he made it through. I can't believe how much it mattered to me that he did. He is my quiet happy place, where I go when I get overwhelmed and need to get away. 

This probably wasn't interesting to most people. But I wanted to remember it, our little warrior. 

--Andie 

Past Due Update

 It has been a while since I have written. Honestly, you have noticed that I go through bursts. Sometimes I write a whole lot, then other times there are long fallow periods between posts. It really depends on what is going on and if I can work up the energy and scrounge up the free time in which to write. So here we are: freeing up some time by ignoring the baskets of laundry that need to be folded on a Sunday. 

Update time. 

Michael can go first. 

Most things are going pretty well for Michael. He still likes his job, and he is doing well at it. He has joined an axe-throwing league. I forget what his team name is, but he really enjoys participating in it. I am glad he does it too because otherwise he just frankly wouldn't socialize very much at all. On his days off, he likes to go to a local diner and get breakfast, which is the highlight of his week.

So about...well, it would have been ten years ago, in 2013. We were still living in Lubbock, it was about maybe four months or so after Emerald was diagnosed. I had gone away for the weekend with the kids and when I got back, Michael was throwing up blood. He went into the hospital where they fixed a hiatal hernia and ruptured ulcer. 

But during the overnight stay in the hospital, they discovered what appeared to be sleep apnea, because he kept setting off the alarms all night long and freaking out the nurses. They highly recommended he get it checked out. 

Fast forward to ten years later and I am still prodding him to get it checked out, because his snoring is significant, he never feels rested, and overall it is just a big concern of mine. 

He relents and asks his doctor for an at-home sleep study, which we turned back in. The doctor called with the results: "one of the worst sleep tests I've ever seen", and a prescription for a CPAP machine. 

Michael is content with this answer. I am not. I browbeat him into getting me specifics. I don't like feely data; I want the good chunky quantitative data. 

The report states that an AHI (Apnea-Hypoapnea Index) score of 15 to 30 is moderate sleep apnea; over 30 is categorized as "severe". Michael's score was 80. During the eight hours it recorded of his sleep, he stopped breathing 355 times. His oxygenation level fell to 40%, but stayed at an average of 75%. 

No wonder he has been feeling so unrested.

We are still waiting on the medical supply company to provide the CPAP, but I am hopeful that once he gets it, he will start feeling (and sleeping) better.

Next up, why not...Emerald.

Emerald is in high school. They are doing relatively well. We saw a drop in grades, which we went over--I said I wanted grades that reflected abilities. Emerald asked how I knew that those weren't the grades they deserved, that maybe they were dumber than I gave them credit for. I said if that was the case, you wouldn't have made straight A's on the semester finals and be making 60s and 70s in the class. We agreed the phone would stay with me during school hours until the grades rectified themselves. 

Would you believe it took less than two days of no phone for all those grades to bounce up to A's and high B's?

A miracle. 

Gabriel. 

We just had Gabriel's annual ARD. He is in 7th grade. They say he is doing well in school; there aren't any behaviors that need significant intervention, which is a positive. And needed, as he is kind of a turd at home. 

Lately, he has been pretending to be asleep or flat-out refusing to lay down, wanting to stay up all night. He sneaks tablet and blasts it so no one else can sleep, breaks into the garage and steals all the sodas.

You know, teenager stuff.

But he also got out of the house the other night. 

So Michael had to install alarms on all the doors, which is actually pretty cool. Gabe does not agree, but that is why we did not ask him.

Other than that, he is just getting more fiercely independent. He doesn't want his mom doing stuff for him, so he is fighting me pretty hard on it. I told him, "I don't have to help if you will do it yourself", which just annoys him to no end, but I think he is taking it to heart because he is trying harder than he has to gain those skills so that I don't have to be involved. More power to you, buddy.

My Benjamin! 

Benjamin is doing his thing with 4H right now. He has a goat named Spencer that he has been working hard with to get ready for shows. The first, he placed 4th. 2nd he placed 10th, but out of a bigger field. Next week is the sale-show, so I am hoping Benjamin is emotionally prepared to say goodbye. The goat stays out at my mother's house where I can have no contact with it, so that we do not risk me getting attached to it and wanting to keep it. Like I may perhaps have done with the rabbits. 

We only have one rabbit left, one CS Lewis. He was the one that Mikasa picked up in her mouth and carried around until Benjamin rescued him. I don't think the dog was trying to hurt the rabbit, but it did freak him out a bit. Ever after that, CS has been abnormally attached to the family. He would never escape like some of the others and make us chase them (even for the sweet clover a couple houses down). He would just have his spot right next to the door where he would wait for us to come out and visit him. 

Now he stands on his hindlegs and watches for me to come home from work. He makes kissy noises when you get close to him and snuggles down in your arms. He really is a very loving boy. 

Benjamin is in 5th grade and academics seem to be going fine. Going back to school has been a hard transition for him, I think, but he won't talk about it much. His favorite thing to do is put on a church suit complete with tie and loafers, make an iced coffee, and host a "staff meeting" with his siblings. What they talk about during this time is unknown to me, but the suit does imply that it is serious business.

Finally, Tula. 

Tula is in kindergarten. She has a love-hate relationship with school. She likes all the people, she likes seeing friends, she likes the activities. I think it just gets to be too much sometimes; it is a struggle sometimes to get her to go. I know it has been hard for her to be away from me so much, because she had basically unlimited mommy time for the entirety of her life prior to school and now she gets me just a few hours before bedtime and on weekends. It is a big shift. 

She joined Cub Scouts and that has been a lot of fun for her. She goes to meetings once a week with Oma, and there are some kids there her age. 

Tula reads well, and is working on her writing. They say she is a bright child that struggles sitting still. For the most part, she is a healthy, happy little gremlin. 

I guess that brings it down to me, unless you want to hear about the cats. 

I am...okay. 

Winter is a hard time for me. I don't know if it is seasonal affective disorder or just a general reflection of my overall state of being, but I struggle through the cold months. I don't get out and exercise because I don't do well in temperatures below 75. My eating habits deteriorate. It's just harder time. 

It doesn't help that I have lost a bit of the joy either. 

Right now, school (which I have nearly finished with my masters) and the alternative certification program feel like a slog. Work is still populated by people I adore, but some days I have to psych myself up to go to. This is a predictable slump--the graph I was shown says it was going to happen in November/December, but maybe I had to be a little extra and wait for January. If that is the case then I should be perking up soon, back into the rejuvenation state. 

Don't get me wrong, I still like and am thankful for my job. But the idea of quitting and becoming a bunny breeder so that I can actually read and focus on a book again sounds real appealing right now. I probably just took too much on and have a bit of burnout. My brain definitely feels fried. Don't even count the T-TESS observations, the CHAMPS observations, the ACP observations, and the 65 professional development hours I have earned (not including the college courses; I still have to log those into my portfolio). 

The brain fatigue is evident at home. I struggle more trying to calculate carbs and determine dosages and administer appropriate insulin. Before Thanksgiving, I gave Tula 30 units of Lantus when she needed 8; Gabriel gets 30. I was distracted and messed up. Michael accidentally gave Gabriel 30 units of Humalog one night instead of Lantus, which we had to offset with feeding Gabriel 300 carbs. Of course normally 300 carbs is nothing for him, but that night he actually just wanted to go to sleep. 

Either way, now we call out: X units of {Insulin Name} going into [Child]" and wait for confirmation before we stick them. It helps us slow down a bit and double check the other person. It also means that I do not do Tula's Lantus and Michael does not do Gabriel's unless we have to; it is just too much for a brain to hold. Maybe we can get one or both of them on the pump and it will save our brain just a little. Who knows. 

So that is all I have for now. I am going to take Tula to the store to get stuff for dinner; she has asked me to teach her how to cook, so we are getting stuff to make BLT's. 

Love to you all.

-Andie

First Few Weeks

 “Andie!” You are asking yourself. “How is the new job going?!” 

Or so I imagine, that you are beside yourself with curiosity. Thank you! I am flattered by your interest, and I will tell you. 

(Pictured: Me as Fear from "Inside Out", with a portrait a student drew of me)

I have been going full days since August 2nd. The first four days were New Teacher Orientation, first two days new to the district, last two were new to the profession. I got to hang out with our awesome new Cooper librarian the first two days, as well as my counterpart from Abilene High. This bubbly, outgoing person that took a Spanish 1 position at Cooper sat beside me and decided we were going to be friends; I love people like that, as I would have sat quietly and alone all week if no one took an interest in me. It was a literal wagon-load of information that I am still sifting through to find pieces that are relevant to me, but they have lots of people there that are happy to help you figure it out and answer questions so I am not super worried about it. 

In-service stuff started on the 9th, which was all on campus, which gave me a chance to get to know my team better. I am not going to talk about them too much as I do not want to violate their privacy without permission, but I can tell you: they have immediately endeared themselves to me, and I love them all to absolute bits. 

There is a pretty big sp-ed department here; I don’t know the chair that well yet, but there is time. I had met a great deal of them through my time subbing, particularly the coaches from the other side of campus. There is one that I covered for whenever she was out at a game, and her calm and confidence and experience has helped me build a lot of my practice for my own classroom. Sometimes I just seek her out to chat because she is has a revitalizing presence; she makes you feel like you can achieve anything. Which is probably what makes her such a good teacher and coach. 

But my room is far away, with a cluster of three teachers and a handful of paraprofessionals and a nurse that share a bucket of kids that rotate between us for the day. One of the teachers is kind and friendly, and has gone out of her way to make me feel welcome. Both her aides are sweet as peaches--one I swear the sunshine comes out just to shine on her, she is so smiley and cheery. She always wears these bright colors because she says they make her happy. The other is quieter but so good with the kids and so patient. I remember one kid was having a problem; she specifically asked to talk to that aide because she said “I know she won’t make fun of me or judge me”; that level of trust can be hard to earn with high schoolers. 

The other teacher is my mentor, and we call her the mama because she is the one that takes care us. I try not to, but I call her about a hundred times a day, going “okay, so -this- just happened; what am I supposed to do?!” She also has a son that has been through the program, so her and I can share stories about our kids and the other gets it. Oh, how I need that. She is so funny and fierce and competent and I have learned a lot from her. There is only one aide in her classroom, who is one of the best people I have ever met. She’s got the biggest heart and loves these kids like each one is her baby; she is witty and bright and generally makes life better for everyone around her. 

Which brings me to my classroom. I’ve got two aides and they’re -phenomenal-. We have got straight-up the dream team. First aide I told you a bit about: he is the only man on our team out there, and he is awesome. He keeps us laughing, even on the hard days, and can handle anything that comes his way with grace. The other aide is the active cutest; she loves k-pop and penguins and relates to Sadness from “Inside Out” (who we dressed up for on team dress-up day; I was Fear). I love the way she lights up when she talks about something she’s passionate about, and she is probably the most quotable person; we already made a t-shirt design based on something she said. (I will post it if we get it made) She is also going to college to become a special education teacher, and she is going to be amazing at it--she has a calming presence that radiates out from her that will serve her well, no matter what she decides to do. 

But what of the kids!? You say. 

I love them all already. 

Of course I do. I am the softest touch, you know, for a calloused old harpy. I can’t help it. They’re so good. Even if they can be crazy and chaotic sometimes, because they are children and that is how children are meant to be. Somehow you gotta be the quiet calm in the midst of all of it. 

A good chunk of them I already knew from last year, but of course we have some that transfer in or move or are baby freshman. 

Memorable moments from these past few weeks would be…

I was trying to explain that we would have lots of people coming in to observe me over the course of the year because it was my first year teaching. Somehow this led to the students asking how old I was. 

Student: In your 20’s! 

Different student: No, she’s in her 80’s! 

Me: So your guess is that I am somewhere between my 20s and my 80s? -considering- Well, yes. You are correct. 

We are having a lot of students who are making an attempt at flirting with me and the female aide. One day I had Mike bring up chick-fil-a, and I was drinking my lemonade. 

Student: did you get chick-fil-a for lunch?

Me: yeah, my husband brought it up for me. 

Student: WHAT?! You’re married?! This ruins all of my plans! 

Me: …-pointing to the picture of me and Mike prominently displayed by my desk- I wasn’t keeping it a secret.

The same student told me the next day that if your husband sighs at you, that means he doesn’t really love you so you should divorce him. I told Michael this, who promptly sighed heavily. 

The lovelorn nature of high schoolers is a prominent theme, and watching the drama between them has been at times entertaining and others exasperating. One student in particular has just too much love in his heart to give. 

Student: can I please go say goodbye to Kimberly? I love her so much, I miss her. 

Me: I am gonna go with a no there, babe. 

Student, forlorn: why? 

Me: Because you can’t care about her that much if you don’t know her name; there is no Kimberly in this program. 

(Do not feel too badly for the poor fellow; a short while later, Emerald came to my classroom to get a ride home for the day, and he immediately said “hey, can you tell your daughter I said hi? Please? Please?” My response was, “you are barkin' up the wrong tree there, champ”.)

Most days have been good so far, and the kids are good little ones. There have of course been missteps. I had a student flood the bathroom. I figured this was a failure on my part to communicate expectations, so we covered shared bathroom etiquette. When he did it again, we reminded him of expectations and had him help clean it up. There hasn’t been an incidence since. There is the eternal struggle of Teacher versus Cell Phone Usage, but with a verbal reminder most kids put it away and it doesn’t become an issue. Most things have remained calm and under control. 

The kids struggle mightily with my name. I have been called Ms. Wiggins, Ms. (other teacher’s name), Ms. Why, Ms Murdoch, Ms. Weirdo, and Ms. Wilson. Most of them call me simply “Miss”, and are then surprised when I don’t recognize that they are trying to get my attention. 

My biggest struggles are: 

-exhaustion. The first week, I fell asleep during dinner, right on my plate. You don’t really feel it during the day, but then you get home and you’re fully conked out. It has gotten a little better each week as I adjust, but it has been a big adjustment.

-Not getting distracted. It is so easy to get me off topic, especially if these kids start telling me stories. And they love to tell stories. There is this one kid, tells the most fantastical stories. With his imagination, he should write. Or I may write them down for him. Either way, I need to stop letting me get detracted from my lesson plans. But I keep telling myself, “what harm can it do? We have time to finish this. But I won’t get to hear their stories forever.” Which is partially true; we always do finish, and I won’t always have a chance. But it also teaches them that they can pull my focus if they ever don’t wanna do something, and that is not something I should be encouraging, probably. I saw this “open/closed” sign strategy one teacher used where if the sign is on “open”, the students can feel free to tell her whatever stories or non-sequiturs they want, but when it is on “closed” they have to stay on topic. I may try that. 

-emails. Oh my, but there are emails. There are emails about the emails, if you didn’t respond to the emails. There are emails for you and emails not for you but that you are on and emails that you must send so you have documented proof of the emails in your email. There are more emails than one can read in a day. It is like that pot of oatmeal where you forgot the magic word to make it stop, and now your whole inbox is full to overflowing and you’re trying every word to stem the tide, but it just keeps pouring. All the electronic communique, comin your way.

-attendance. Roughly seven times a day, you’ll hear a student ask “did you remember to take attendance?” and me saying “crumbs! Hold up…”. I am, slowly but surely, getting better at that one. I may make a sign that says “did you remember to take attendance” and post it on all four walls where I can see it no matter where I look. 

Today, I have covid. Though I am feeling worlds better than I was two days ago when it first struck, I still feel a tired deep in my bones. So I am going to go eat grilled cheese and take a chunky nap. Best to all of you, and I will talk to you soon (next time about my many and assorted children)--

--Andie

Time to Announce

 I figured: hey, it is worth a shot. 

I was getting my bachelors in education anyway. I needed a job, or at least an excuse to get out of the house and see people. Who knows? Maybe I will end up liking it. 

So last November, I started substitute teaching in AISD. My only rules were: I don't work Wednesdays, because that is when Amber and I do school work; and I only sub special education. I can't see myself in a gen ed classroom; it is not where my strengths or passion lie. 

Pretty confident I knew how this was going to play out. I had been a paraprofessional (aide) in a preschool class, so I figured I would end up with the littles. I was adamant: nobody taller than I am. But for subbing purposes, I wanted to visit a variety of campuses and programs, so I could get a better understanding of what I was looking for and what it would be like to teach. 

The first job I took was as an aide in an elementary SAP (special education behaviors) class. I would have loved it for the teacher alone--she saw that I was nervous, but she was so very kind and helpful. But the kids were so great, too. One colored me a picture of a wolf that I still have in my keepsakes (that keepsakes pile I accumulated during substitute teaching is getting quite out of hand). 

There were good days and bad days. Almost exclusively good days. I learned a lot. Like: always carry a book. The day that taught me that particular lesson, I ended up reading quite a bit of an unattended biology textbook. I learned how to handle behaviors, how to manage classrooms. Some I did better in than others. There were a couple of days that I was reassigned by well-intentioned staff into general education classrooms, which reaffirmed my very strong instinct that it was not the program for me.

One day, I saw there was an para/aide position open over at Cooper High School. This was fairly early in my new job, so I was more inclined to take para positions, even if they paid less, so that I could learn and observe from the teachers that were present. This was a self-contained PALs/ADAPT group. 

I just fell in love with it. 

The teacher was exceptional--I was shy at first and kind of quiet, but after a while I got to talking to her and the other aide in the class, and got to know them better. It was a Fun Friday, so there wasn't a ton for me to do, but I tried to find ways to make myself useful and helpful. We gave the kids a spelling test. Mostly, I listened to the kids and walked with them; we went to bell choir and I got to hear them practice for the Christmas concert. I still have notes in my sub journal from that first day; the students were very complimentary and so very sweet, and I bonded with them quickly. 

Spring semester, I made sure I was at Cooper as much as possible. I knew the Life Skills teacher for the special education program was retiring at the end of the semester. She got to work with those awesome kids, and she gets to teach some of the coolest stuff, including the jobs program and real-world applicable skills. She worked in a team that was strong, with two other teachers sharing the same students in a rotation, and a total of six paraprofessionals (two per class). One of the paras for the Life Skills class was retiring as well; she had worked with the district for decades and is one of the finest educators I have ever worked with. The other had worked near Stacia over at Craig the year before; right away, this guy and I figured out we could work together. He is calm and competent and excellent with the kids, and he's got a good energy I can vibe with. The whole hierarchy from administrators down was a system I felt I could fit into. 

So when that Life Skills teacher put in her retirement notification, I went to the principal and made it known that I was interested in the job.

I was not without complications. Though I had graduated, my degree was -checks diploma- a Bachelors of Arts in Educational Studies, Special Education and Elementary Education. I had planned on going through the licensure route, but I got through my undergrad classes more quickly than I had anticipated I would so I decided to forestall it and get my Masters. That is how I am currently enrolled; Masters of Special Education, which will license me...in 48 states. 

But not Texas.

Why not Texas? Because we are a finicky fellow who likes things just so, which means that we have our own tests and programs we would like you to get through, thank you very much. 

My options were: 

1) Forget about the job; get licensed through my Masters program, which would have me available for the 2023-2024 year. I could apply for reciprocity, but I would still have to take Texas special education test (as far as I am aware). Try then, if the job was still available.

2) Apply for an alternative certification program. 

The second one stuck in my craw just a bit, because it was a lot of money. Money after I had paid for college, taking relevant classes to this degree, and after I had paid for my Masters program which is also in the relevant career area. Money that did not include the additional fees I would have to pay, hundreds of dollars, to take the certification tests that the program was preparing me for. 

Finally, I weighed it: 

How much did I want this job?

There is currently a sign-on bonus for special education teachers through the district that would off-set the cost of the alternative certification program. It would be a lot of work. If all went according to plan, I would be teaching full-time (my first full-time job in many years), while getting my degree, and while completing this additional program, which is not insubstantial. 

But it meant enough to me to try. 

The principal said she would be happy to hire me if I got to the internship license state, which is where I am currently enrolled in an alt cert program and have passed the special education exam. 

Thus decided, I went to Region 14 and tried every angle to shave even a few dollars off the price. When that didn't pan out, I grumblingly paid for it, enrolled, took the practice sped test to prove test readiness, and registered to take sped exam.

I passed that with a 93%. 

First thing I did was contact Cooper and tell them that I was good to hire. But could not for the life of me get a hold of *any one*. Everyone was out at a training, it was summer. I tried to not fret about it, but I kept hearing others that had applied near the same time as me signing contracts and hearing about their placements. I learned that they had hired the other para for the life skills class; a more perfect candidate I couldn't have chosen. She is also a WGU student, going through the same program I just went through. We worked together last year while I subbed because she was a learning loss aide and her mom is a para out in one of the other classes; she is getting relevant experience so she can become a special education teacher too. 

Everything was perfect, but...I wasn't a part of it. 

Finally, getting frustrated and worried I wasn't going to get placed, I started accepting interviews at other campuses. I knew that I was only going to work one of three places: life skills, SAP, or DAEP. So when I got two interviews with SAP program right away, I was hopeful. That meant I had good options. 

My first interview was with Austin Elementary; my friend Christina was the assistant principal out there and I loved the campus and the program. The interview was with a principal that made me excited about the program: his energy and enthusiasm were contagious. The person overseeing the SAP programs was someone I had worked with as a sub, and she is so very good at her job and such a neat person that I knew I would have good support out there.

The second interview was over at Gabriel's old elementary campus; the assistant principal over the SAP program was a great selling point, because she is exactly what you want and need in an administrator overseeing a class like that. I had worked many days in the class and knew and liked the kids a whole lot; they were even the size that I had originally wanted, anklebiters the lot of of them. 

Absolutely hands down the best part of working in either SAP program would be the LSSP. This person has worked with Gabriel since he was over at Bonham, and genuinely respects and seems to like Gabe. That won me over, and I have been a huge fan ever since. When I got the privilege of working with him during a sub job, I like him even more--he's just a really cool guy. And I sincerely hope to see his rock collection some day, I am just trying to figure out a casual way to see pictures. I heard there were crystal skulls.

Both principals offered me jobs on the spot, to which I was incredibly grateful and flattered, and asked for a little time to consider. 

I called Cooper one last time to tell them I had other jobs pending, and to let them know that if they still wanted me, I was still interested in the life skills position. 

The principal lit up when she heard from me and said she was about to call me; apparently, there had been someone from downtown that was contending for the job, but they had just withdrew their request; if I wanted it, the job was mine. 

I sat and talked about it with my loved ones, and prayed about it a lot. It was a hard decision, and I feel so blessed to have had so many viable, quality offers. 

But in the end, I had to go with my gut: 

I knew I wanted to be at Cooper. 

There isn't always a reason I can articulate for why I am drawn to certain things; I usually don't question it. If it feels right, if I know inside that it is right, then I lean into it. Knowing myself and trusting in my own perceptions is something I rely heavily on. So I called the other principals and politely declined their offers, thanking them profusely for the faith they showed in me. Then I called and set up a time to meet with the administrator over at Cooper.

Today, I officially signed the paperwork: for the 2022-2023 school year, I am the Special Education ADAPT Life Skills teacher at Cooper High School.

Go Cougars!