Time for the biennial update!

I'm at the beginning of my second year in a wonderful charter school (which is hilarious if you scroll down 3 or 4 posts to my anti-charter screed).  It's been an amazing experience overall, and it has completely flipped my opinion about public vs. charter.  New stance: charters that do it well are the way to go.  Bad charters are just as bad as bad public school, and Lord knows there are lots of bad charters.  But I'm really fortunate to work for a very thoughtful, supportive, well-planned-out school.  It's in the South Bronx, but I'm not exaggerating when I say I would actually send my own child there.

The craziest thing about my school is definitely the kids' home lives.  Last year wasn't quite as intense, but this year most of my kids live in housing projects, and the ones who don't live in pretty terrible apartments and neighborhoods anyway.  I don't think I have a single two-parent family (although lots of moms with boyfriends).  Many of the parents are great, hard-working, and do everything they can to provide the best life possible for their kids.  But then many of them are just hot messes.  We do home visits at the start of the year, and a lot of my kids live in places I couldn't stand to be in for more than a few minutes.  That sounds really snobby, but I swear it's not a project thing.  A few of the kids in projects have lovely families and lovely homes (once you get out of the hallways, yikes!)  It's a chaos thing instead.  Some of the families have a lot of kids, no boundaries, and limited hygiene.  It's intense.  It makes me feel really anxious to be in homes like that, where there are multiple babies crying, and it's dark and dingy and scary.  Home visits are a pain in the ass, but also wonderful because it forces me to develop a degree of empathy and understanding I wouldn't otherwise have.

 I don't mean to be so judgmental.  I think it must be so overwhelming to face the challenges that poverty presents.  There are so many things I take for granted, like having enough money for food and transportation.  It just makes me so sad when things happen like a student has a horrible stomach ache because all she had for breakfast was soda, or one of my students never does her homework and her mom can't support her because she's illiterate.  It's pretty amazing that most of these kids come to school excited about learning.  It actually blows me away.  In a twisted way, maybe this will be an advantage later in life?  If they do make it to college and end up getting white collar jobs, all the adversity they faced as children will make everything feel so cushy later on!

My mom called today to tell me she has breast cancer.  Nothing in my life has ever mattered more than this matters.  It makes every thought I've ever had, every feeling I've ever felt, seem pale and empty.

 

Several of my students have trouble regulating their emotions, and sometimes they have unbelievable screaming tantrums.  Their feelings are so strong and beyond their control that they overpower them.  They scream--contrary to all logic and reason--until they're completely exhausted.  I feel like I'm having that kind of tantrum inside.  I'm shaking and I can't breathe and my feelings are totally out of my control.  But I can't scream, either.  Maybe that would feel better?  I don't know, is it possible to have an internal tantrum and be numb at the same time?  This isn't a great analogy.  

I'm so so scared.  I love my mom and I don't want to lose her and there is no scarier word in the English language than cancer.  

Life, you really suck sometimes.  In a dark way though, I have to appreciate your irony.  I had a good day at work, and when I went to the store to buy groceries, everything I wanted was on sale.  I guess I brought this on myself, because I was thinking about how this was really my day.  So there you go.  I am a devout pessimist: I staunchly believe that nothing can go well without paying for it later.  Maybe I've accrued too much happiness and good luck this year. 

It's crazy to think that everything else on Earth is happening in exactly the same way that it was happening an hour ago for everyone but me.  How can that be, when I feel like I'm breathing water all of a sudden?  

I never thought I'd say this...

I am a terrible blogger. I was only good about maintaining this when I was basically quarantined and had nothing else to do. This would be pretty useless as a guide for anyone going through ACL reconstructive surgery, given that I only update once every two months or so and my posts aren't even about my knee anymore. I always did this as a kid when I tried to keep penpals too. I'd write a lot at first and then gradually it would become less and less frequent, until I stopped writing all together. Oops. But this post will be back on topic!

I'm a couple of days shy of the ten month mark. Good lord, how did that happen? It's summer time, and I feel like I want to make the most of this summer to reclaim

some of what I lost last year. Last summer is this big black pit in my memory. I associate it with being hot, swollen, and uncomfortable because that's how I spent most of July and August. Not this year! This year I'm dreaming of lots of bike rides, beach trips, and outdoor concerts. (Although side note to River to River: your lineup is kind of weak this season!) I want to maximize time with friends, time outside, and time exercising/running around. Hikes! Tennis! Long walks around the city! All of these things are like gifts.

Here is the ten month knee status update:

I'm jogging on the treadmill regularly, but still just for short distances. The longest I've done so far (non-interval) has been 2.5 miles, but that's probably as much out of laziness as it is out of legitimate knee concern. I go three to four times a week now, and it feels stronger but still not 100%. It still gets a little swollen and sore every time I jog or go for a long walk, or even wear flat sandals for a day. I guess it's supposed to be 2 years until the new ACL is fully integrated into my body, so maybe that's how long I'll have to wait for these things to go away. Or maybe they never will? Maybe 28 was simply too old to completely come back from surgery with no ill effects. Everyone I talked to beforehand who told me "I don't even notice it now!" was like 16 when they had the surgery. I'm just not as resilient as I was in high school.

I'm still much, much, much slower than I was before surgery. I admit I haven't been actively trying to increase my speed, but it's a bit of a bummer that my all-out sprint now is like a fast jog was for me before. In my brain I'm still fast, but my body just won't cooperate. It's like that awful dream we all have of running but being stuck in place. Again, maybe this will improve with time (and, um, some concerted effort on my part. Oops.)

I'm playing kickball now with some friends from my old soccer team (and a bunch of other random people). Turns out kickball's not really a sport! I got soooooo annoyed with all the random girls on our team when they showed up for the first game in full make-up and huge hoop earrings, but I am actually the foolish one because kickball's pretty worthless. I mean, it's fun, but the only sweat I break is on the bike ride to the field. So this has not turned out

to be much of a test of my athletic prowess. The only thing it has done is make me crave soccer. Like, craaaaaaaaave. I have dreams about it! (And in my dreams I always play like a young Mia Hamm, of course.) I wake up from them and feel so sad. It's partly that I miss my soccer friends, but even more than that, I miss the competitive outlet. I've basically played soccer for the last 25 years of my life, give or take a few years. All this is to say that I've been seriously thinking about playing again. Is that stupid? I swore I was done after surgery, that I would do anything and everything to avoid ever going through anything like that again. But I think it's like having babies--if we stuck to our oaths forever, no one would ever have a second child! I just miss it so much. I miss the rush, I miss the excitement, I miss the team aspect, and I miss body-slamming dudes twice my size. I think I would be much more timid this time around, but even so, maybe I could reclaim some of that? I dunno. People do it though. It's not completely insane (is it?) People do play the same sport that burned them after something like this. And not just professional athletes. I don't know. I'm thinking about it.

Springtime blues

I've been feeling a little adrift lately. I'm still working that silly part-time job, and although it's tedious and boring, I'm really trying to shift my point of view to be more positive about it. After all, I was extremely fortunate to find something that I can do short-term with zero commitment and still have lots of time to work on school stuff. It's pretty ideal for this semester, even if it pays poorly. But I'm going to have to quit at the end of June because I'll be "student teaching" in a school (TBD) for the month of July and I won't have the free hours anymore.

So now I'm approaching graduation, and while that should be very exciting, lately I've been filled with more anxiety and dread than enthusiasm. The Department of Education is still waiting on the final verdict about funding for next year. Massive layoffs? Last-minute bailout from the state? Either way, it looks like this will be the third year in a row that the Board of Education won't be hiring any general education teachers. The good news is that no matter what, they won't be laying of special education teachers, and in fact they will probably be hiring in that area. But as a new teacher with no head teaching experience (on my resume, at least) and a glut of qualified teachers flooding the market (did I mention the total number of DOE schools to be shuttered next year is now at 27?) my special education prospects are not rosy.

I want a job in a public school. I've decided based on my own experience and that of everyone I know who has worked in a charter that charter life is not for me. For one, I don't believe in the movement. I think we should be focusing our energy and funding on improving public schools rather than dumping funds into risky speculation, especially given that charters are systems that can't be replicated outside of the isolated snow globes that are charter schools (see this article for a much more articulate explanation than I could provide about why that is). Also, I'm yet to hear of a charter school that does special education well, not to mention all the other issues surrounding quality of life and sustainability. Finally, I'm not interested in being part of an educational experiment anymore. As a first-year teacher, I think it's particularly important that I work for people who know what they're doing, and who will let me get my feet on the ground before imposing a lot of arbitrary and meaningless standards around minutiae that don't affect my classroom practice at all, which was very much my experience at my last job. I'm still suffering PTSD from that school. I still wake up from anxiety dreams with my heart racing and my mind in a panic on a regular basis. I think accepting that position and leaving my old job is the single greatest regret of my life so far--and that's coming from a girl with a lot of regrets. Anyway, it's made me picky at a time when maybe I can't afford to be picky.

I know it's early and I shouldn't be freaking out about this yet. But I can't help feeling devastated when I think about the fact that I'm finishing my Master's this summer and I may still end up back in the same sort of job that inspired me to get my Master's in the first place because I was so desperate to get out of it. Oh, the irony... I wonder if I'd make more as a secretary with a Master's degree, even if it was unrelated to the field? I hope so, given that I'm going to have a shitload of loans to pay off this time around. *Sigh*

I'm trying to come to terms with the fact that it is a very realistic possibility that I won't be working in a school next year. I'm clearly not at peace with it yet, since I feel like crying just typing those words. It's truly out of my power right now, given that I've sent out over 20 resumes, and the Board of Ed doesn't have a SINGLE JOB in elementary special education on their website right now. There's no sense in getting depressed about things I can't control. In the meantime, I'm going to focus on finishing my classes and my thesis. For that soon-to-be-irrelevant Master's degree. Right.

Capitalism and Unions

I've been thinking a lot about unions lately. Too much, in fact. I've been following what's going on in Wisconsin and Idaho and Iowa closely, and with no small amount of sadness. In part it's personal, since I'm a future teacher. But it's also something I've grown up believing in, long before I ever knew I wanted to be an educator. I remember reading The Jungle and The Grapes of Wrath in high school, and railing at the injustices of capitalism. I still believe very strongly that employers rarely have the best interest of their workers at heart, and I stand behind unions as a (admittedly imperfect) means of protecting the vast majority, those of us who will never stand at the top of a large corporation.

I recently watched an excellent American Experience episode about the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire (you can watch it here), and it highlighted how the victims' deaths altered the course of the labor movement in this country. Their deaths led to a surge of labor laws protecting workers' safety and quality of life, and we owe the success of both private and public sector unions in no small part to them.

I've been working for an online tutoring company for the last month, teaching English to people in Korea using a Skype-like voIp protocol. The company I'm working for is based out of the Philippines, and I had a feeling in my gut from the very beginning that they were shady because they don't have a real office in the States, it's next to impossible to get ahold of anyone, and they hired me after just a phone interview. But I needed the money, and it allowed me to work from home, so I figured I'd give it a chance. Fast forward a few weeks, and *surprise!* they shorted me on my first paychecks. It took me awhile to figure this out because I wasn't keeping as careful records as I should have, but I finally noticed today that I'd been underpaid for the last three weeks. I emailed my bosses in the States and also in the Philippines explaining the dates I had been underpaid for and how much I felt I was owed. My boss in the States--who is a very kind woman--called me back right away. She agreed that yes, I had been underpaid for training and she'd get on it right away. But she said that my pay had been docked in the following two weeks because "some of my calls had been more than 2 minutes over the time limit." This was the first time I'd ever heard of this policy, and it didn't sit well with me. Most of the tutoring sessions are 10 minutes long, and I often have as many as 9 or 10 back-to-back. It's inevitable that sometimes I go over, because if someone waits to the end to ask me a bunch of questions, I'm not about to hang up on them. If that were to happen in the beginning of a long stretch of calls, I'd be running behind for all the subsequent calls as well, completely unaware that while I was making call after call after call and completing the tutoring sessions, I was in fact NOT being paid for them since I was calling at 10:12 instead of at 10:10. That's questionable ethics, for sure. But it also didn't sit well with me because I had a strong suspicion it was illegal. I told my boss I was uncomfortable with this practice and needed some time to think about it, and we left it at that for today. She said she'd speak to the office in the Philippines and get back to me (which will be later tonight because of the time difference).

As soon as I was done with work, I started researching New York's labor laws. And OF COURSE it's illegal to dock someone's pay. You can't dock a worker's pay for ANY reason, even gross negligence, unless it's in their best interest (i.e., health insurance) and with written consent. So even if this clause were stipulated in my contract (which it's not), and I'd signed it, it would still be illegal because it's obviously not in my best interest. The law is very straight forward. I called the Labor Office just to make sure, and the woman assured me that it doesn't matter where they're based, if I'm working in New York they are violating the law.

So now I'm in this crappy position of wanting what I'm due, but also not wanting to lose the job. I'm pretty sure that's what will happen if I rock the boat. But I'm certainly not the kind of person who can swallow this, so of course I'm going to talk to her tomorrow. If worse comes to worse, I'll file a complaint with the labor bureau.

I wouldn't presume to compare my situation to sweatshop workers in the Gilded Age, but it does really illustrate for me the crappiness of human nature. This company makes so much money off of me, and yet they have the audacity to dock my wages even when I'm still completing my assignment! It's the nature of capitalism that the ones at the top will always want more, and they'll take as much as they can get away with, screw everyone else.

The worst part is, there's not much I can do. Even if (when) I get my money back, I probably won't have a job and they'll still be screwing everyone else who works for them. But at least I have the emails of all the other New York employees, so if/when they do fire me, I do plan on sending everyone else a link to the labor statute! (You can read the statute here and file a claim on this form, in case you're curious.)

5 months and counting

5-months post-surgery update:

I've been on a great workout streak since I quit my job! Emotionally it's been a little mixed, but at least I've been able to get in time at the gym almost every day.

I finally started my running program last week. Right now that means intervals of 1 to 2 minutes jogging, 4 minutes walking. Not too impressive, I know, but baby steps. The next step will be alternating 1/4 mile jogging and walking, and working up from there.

I also went back to yoga and pilates this week, which feels great. My body in general is very sore, but not my knee! I have to modify some of the poses because I can't comfortably kneel yet, but ironically the only pose that I absolutely can't do so far is child's pose. I wish I'd gone back to yoga a lot sooner. The flexibility, strength, and balance are all so good for my knee.

Otherwise, I don't think about my knee much. It doesn't bother me except when I sleep: I sleep on my side, so I have to keep a pillow between my knees. But I can do pretty much everything else normally at this point. And although I'm retired from soccer, I think I'm going to play kickball this spring. Nerdy, I know, but I'm excited!

Uncertainty

I'm graduating in July, assuming all goes according to plan. So do I stay or do I go?

Whenever I come home, I realize how much I miss my friends, most of whom are still on the west coast. I feel like I've made some good friends in New York, but no one comes close to the friends I have out here. There's something about people who've known you forever--it's like family almost. When I meet up with friends here, even with people I haven't seen for years, it feels so easy and normal. I really miss having close girl friends like that.

It's not just the social thing though--I miss the west coast in general. I feel like life is easier here. People don't work as hard or think as much about money, and every aspect of life isn't an utter ordeal out here. In New York, I feel like everything is so hard. Going to the grocery store, meeting up with friends, going hiking... All these normal things are so complicated in the city! And it was okay while I was still really excited about living there, but now that that's worn off, I'm just tired of putting forth so much effort and expense to do normal, simple things.

I should probably teach in New York for a year, I guess? I'm not really sure how that works. I'm not even sure where I'd go if I were to move. I think probably San Francisco. Seattle is too rainy, Portland is too small and too rainy, and I don't like LA. San Francisco seems like a good happy medium: still very much a big city, but also mellower and less expensive than New York, and with easy access to the outdoors. I have a few close friends down there too. Hmmm.

And then, maybe I'm looking at the west coast with rose-colored glasses. Whenever I'm home, all I do is sleep, eat, and hang out with friends. Of course it feels laid-back. So clearly this requires some more careful consideration...

Losing my mind...

I may have completely lost my mind. I freaked out and quit my job last week. I had a nervous breakdown--I had a horrible meeting with my principal, and while everyone was down at dismissal, I packed up my stuff and left. I spent the next three days in bed, crying.

I feel really weird about it now. On the one hand, I feel extremely guilty. There's something about teaching (um, the fact that you work with children, perhaps?) that makes it different from any other job. With a normal job, I would have quit a looooooong looooooooooooooong time ago. But there's a different pressure with teaching, and I guess that's for good reason. I think it also attracts a certain breed of masochist, so there's this sense of have-to-stick-it-out-no-matter-whatness because we're all such martyrs already... Well, I'm not a martyr anymore. I'm now a crazy, dramatic, selfish b@tch.

It felt sort of like running into a wall. I have never felt so depressed or overwhelmed or completely broken by anything before. I just couldn't face it anymore. I couldn't even leave my bedroom. It was a scary, out of control feeling. But it's mostly passed now. I'm really stressed about the money thing, but otherwise, I feel good about the next few months. I'm going to go to school full time and finally--FINALLY--finish. But now I'm not even sure I want to be a teacher anymore... I need to remember what it was like working at a supportive, caring school. I can do that again. At least I can do that for a few years, and then hopefully get a job in textbook publishing.

I have so much regret now about leaving my old job. I keep thinking how, in spite of everything I complained about, I sincerely liked my coworkers there, and I felt so supported. I guess I knew going into this that it was a risk, and with every risk there is the possibility of utter failure. I liked to think that I could do anything for a year, no matter how bad... But I think I redefined utter failure with this one. Epic, monumental, colossal, and catastrophic are all apt.

I'm on my way home now, and I'm really looking forward to disassociating from Brooklyn for the next 10 days. I want to refocus on my life. I feel really lost, and I don't like the feeling. I'm excited to reconnect with friends, hang out with my mom's pets, eat and cook a lot, watch some movies, read some books, and generally just chill out. No school to think about, no 4 billion work things to stress over... That's such an amazing feeling! I know once the initial feelings of guilt and failure subside, this will be the right choice. I just need to get to that place.

My browser right now...

...has about 12 job search windows open. Yep, still hate it. I CAN'T WAIT to quit. I am soooooo sick of endlessinterminableforeverneverending meetings about data analysis, and sick of "co-planning" that is all telling me to do things differently but no support, and sick of 60 hour weeks plus coming home to do more work... I feel like I'm such a bitter, angry person lately and I can't snap out of it! I just need to sleep... And to breathe... And to tell them I'm not coming back next year... I don't know if the job market will be better next year, or if I'll be able to find anything given that I won't be done with my degree, but I'm very much willing to throw caution to the wind at this point. And if I wind up in another Cravath-esque job for a year, so be it, but at least it will be with an end in sight.

I don't understand how my coworkers are so gung-ho about working there. They're all brainwashed. But then--and I realize everyone probably feels this way, but I really think it's true in my case--I have the worst class load imaginable. If I taught the same thing 5 periods a day, that would be one thing... but I teach four different classes, so I am just swamped with planning all the time.

I always wonder what would happen if I started crying in the middle of a class. Would I get to go home for the day? Would it be worth it? I think I may be on the edge of a nervous breakdown. I feel like all my nerves are stretched tight, and I can't sleep, and I'm getting wrinkles and my hair is probably going to be grey by the end of the year.

Anxiety. Counting seconds until vacation. Bitterness. Sigh...

Next to normal

I am just over 3 months post-surgery and my knee is doing great! I got back on the elliptical two weeks ago, and now I'm up to 20 minutes at a time at 10 to 12 resistance. It feels sooooo good to do a "normal" workout again!

My PT told me last week that she wants to get me on a running program, then she thinks I'll be ready to graduate. That means I should be done in about 6 more PT sessions. I have mixed feelings about it... I actually really enjoy PT. My therapist is great, and I feel like with the long hours I put in at work, I need that forced workout every week. It's like personal training. And the massages (when she does them) are amaaaaaazing. I don't know what she does, but she applies pressure to tendons or muscles or bands or something in my hamstring and thigh, and when I leave my knee feels 1000x better. But on the other hand, my copay is $50 (yeah, that's right, copay) so it will be nice to save that $200 a month.

I've been biking to work almost every day, and I feel like that helps a lot--especially since I don't get to the gym anywhere close to as much as I'd like to. I also think living in NYC is good for rehab: I've been forced to walk around a ton since the moment I got back in September. That was horrible at first, but in the long run I think it probably meant for a shorter recovery time. It took me a long time to get off crutches at home (in fact, it didn't happen until I got back to NYC) and I think that was largely due to the fact that I did so little moving around. I hobbled from the couch to the bed and back again, and that was primarily the extent of my mobility. As soon as I got home though, I had a lot of incentive to get off crutches (well, single crutch by that time) ASAP.

I still stand by what I said about being retired from soccer, but I'm looking forward to more normal athletics. It will be nice to be able to jog again, and maybe next winter I'll be ready to snowboard. I also want to take a dance class as soon as I'm able. (That won't be for awhile though--I was reading the description for a swing class at a studio my friend goes to, and it said "must wear shoes you can pivot comfortably in"--eek!)

My scar is fading really well too. There are only tiny marks where the small incisions were, and the big incision has already faded quite a bit. I think that one will always be visible, but not too bad. I was comparing scars with a friend who tore her ACL in high school last weekend, and although she's 12 years out from a patellar graft, mine is really not much worse.

So lots of good to report on the knee front. And in the interest of FINALLY publishing an upbeat post, we'll just leave it at that :)

A 7th Grader Pushed Me Today...

I wish I could say things were going better, but they're not really. I guess I'm getting used to it, or something. Actually I don't even know if that's true. I still hate it a lot. I still cry all the time. I still lose my will to live by the end of third period every day. I still feel buried under an endless mountain of administrative b.s. I still feel like I'm throwing everything together at the last second.

I fantasize all the time about quitting. Alas, I would be fully screwing myself if I did that, since I left a smoldering, burnt bridge behind me at my last job. I would end up with a degree but no references, which would make it pretty hard to ever find a job. I also have an unbelievable mountain of debt already.

I hate it when people say money doesn't buy happiness. I call bullshit on that. Life is so much easier if you're rich. You don't have to live with the consequences of your mistakes; you can buy your way out of them.

Lessons:

1) Charter school life is not for me.

2) I shouldn't blog when I'm in a bad mood.

Excuses, excuses

It has been riduckulously long since my last post. I'm at about 8 1/2 weeks out of surgery now. I really had good intentions about updating a lot so that anyone else going through ACL reconstruction could compare their progress and know what to expect, but life got in the way.

Shortly after my last post, I had a phone interview for a teaching job at a charter middle school near my apartment in Brooklyn. In a moment of temporary insanity, I decided I was up for the challenge of a completely new position in a completely new and unfamiliar setting at a school I'd never seen before. So I took the job. And that was the last moment of free time I ever had.

I had about four days to attempt to map out the annual curriculum for four classes--two remediated reading, one SETSS, one technology. Yes, technology. WTF? What was I thinking? In my defense, I was pretty misled. I was told when I interviewed that technology was more or less planned out, that my primary responsibilities would be the reading classes and a SETSS pull-out class. That has not turned out to be the case at all. They also told me that the students in the Technology class were chosen based on a demonstrated interest in computers. Also not true. These students--18 7th grade boys--were essentially kicked out of Art because of behavior problems. It's pretty much a nightmare. I'm teaching a class I could care less about to a bunch of rambunctious, verbally abusive middle schoolers who should never be put in a room together. It's ridiculous. And I'm supposed to figure out somehow what to teach them without any support or guidance whatsoever.

I am part of the Student Support Services department, a nice way of saying Special Education. I teach two reading classes, one for sixth graders and one for seventh. The sixth grade class is fine. The kids are well-behaved, and they do their homework and are making some progress. The seventh graders, on the other hand, are a completely different story. Some of the kids in that room are poster children for the strong correlation between learning disabilities and behavior problems. And I get it: you're thirteen and you read at a second-grade level, so you develop some destructive habits to get out of doing your work and feeling like a failure all the time. It becomes deeply ingrained. I understand all the reasons why. But, when you put three or four of those kids together in a class with a bunch of other kids who are also not so inclined to do their work or to try very hard, and you end up with a big pot of disaster soup.

And so it goes with all my classes. On top of which there are also a million bullshit administrative things that are assigned every couple of days. They're often redundant and pointless, and occasionally they end up negating each other. This school is quite obsessed with state tests and data based on the standards those tests measure. Understandable, because they're beholden to a Board and they have to demonstrate strong test scores for the Board of Ed to keep their funding. But as a result, EVERYTHING is centered around test results, and the data they use to measure progress is often faulty. Example: my department tracks five "power standards" identified by the ELA and math departments in the students we serve. Sounds appropriate. But, in reality, that ends up being absurd. We created these "assessment calendars" mapping out how we're going to give 3 opportunities for each of the 10 standards every two weeks. In my SETSS class, that means basically all we do all the time is read and answer questions based on the standards or do math unrelated to what they're learning in class right now because it's based around those standards. OK, fine, so I created three calendars, one for SETSS, one for my sixth grade reading class, and one for the seventh grade reading class. I spent an entire Saturday working on these stupid calendars, trying to figure out how to assess things they haven't learned yet without completely stressing them out. Then, about four days later, I get an email from the principal saying my assessment map is late. "Wait, you mean the assessment map I made for my department? I'll show it to you." "No, not that assessment map, a completely different, unrelated assessment map in which you're going to test all the things you listed on your curriculum outline periodically." "Well, that doesn't really work with the remediated reading class because we're focusing on things like fluency and decoding strategies... The things that can be tested that way are already being tested ad nauseum by the ELA department, and I was just planning on using their data." "Not my problem! I want your map next week!"

I want to cry. All the time. I hate this job. We have meetings every single day after school. I'm at work for 11 to 12 hours a day, every day. Then I come home and do more work. And I get paid less than I would in the Board of Ed to do all this. I have no time to hang out with friends, ever. I have no time to even go to the gym. I cry on a daily basis. I hate the classes I'm teaching and feel like I have no support. And I get an endless pile of assignments that are unrelated to the actual teaching of daily lessons. None of this is making me a better teacher. It's just making me feel frazzled and stressed out all the time. And resentful. And miserable. And a million other synonyms for unhappy.

So... That's why I haven't written for awhile.

2 weeks down...

14 days since my surgery, and this is where I'm at:

-My knee is starting to feel more comfortable. There's less of a dull pain all the time, and I'm sleeping better at night as a result. I still can't comfortably sit with it bent though.

-I'm putting more weight on it every day. I was on just one crutch all day today (although I didn't leave the house once, so that's not much of an accomplishment).

-I still have three steri-strips on, and although it's healing, the big wound on the front of my knee is still looking pretty gross. I could probably pull those steri-strips off but I want to let them come off on their own, just in case. My shin is also still kind of sore where I lost a layer (or 5) of skin where it was all taped up at the hospital.

-I know I've made progress, but I'm feeling pretty down in the dumps. I'm frustrated. I think a big part of that is because I've been cooped up in the house all day. I was going to go out tonight to see some friends, but I realized that the bar they're at is small, crowded, and only has stools (no chairs or benches) so I opted out. Not a very crutch- or leg brace-friendly environment!

I feel like I've slipped into this gross, lethargic state of being half-awake all the time. The days pass, but I don't know what I'm doing to fill the time. It's not like I've been doing a ton of reading or watching lots of movies or t.v., either. The time just slips away...

3 days until I fly home. I'm getting anxious. About work, going back to school, getting around the city, having enough time to rehab correctly, everything. *Ride to Montauk, ride to Montauk, ride to Montauk...*

Approaching the 2-week benchmark

Tomorrow will be my two weekiversary with my reconstructed ACL. I haven't posted in a few days because there hasn't been much to report. I'm frustrated with my progress--or I guess that's lack of progress. I'm STILL completely on crutches. At PT today though, my PT showed me how to walk with just one crutch. I can't do it on stairs so it's really just for around the house, but I guess at least that's a baby step? I was hopeful I'd be walking semi-normally before my flight home, but as Saturday looms closer and closer, thats seeming less and less likely.

My goal was to be walking without crutches after two weeks, and that's just not going to happen. It's making me nervous about where I'm going to be when the kids come back to school. That's only two more weeks away... There's no point in stressing myself out about it though--all I can do is what I'm doing now, which is to stick to my PT routine, ice a lot, and walk on it a little bit every day.

10 days out

10 days out of surgery and I'm still very much on crutches! I am getting soooooo sick of these guys. I'm putting more weight on my toe every day though, so I need to remember that and stay positive.

I got this cool toy at physical therapy last week: they're electrodes, and they send a current into my quad muscle to remind it how to fire. It reminds me of those As-Seen-On-TV commercials for the "Belly Burner" (featuring the guy eating chips and watching t.v. saying, "I can't believe I'm working out!") It's cool, it makes my quad muscle tense up, which they can't quite do on their own yet. I also use it on a lower setting for pain relief, which feels amaaaaaaazing. Is it possible to become addicted to a low electrical impulse? I'm scared I'm going to resort to sticking my finger in a light socket to get my fix after I have to return this guy.

Of course I've been getting excellent care from my "nurses" :) They are sooooooo helpful! They very kindly create moving obstacle courses so I can test my reflexes and practice sharp turns on my crutches, and they also provide a customized "bath" service, featuring personalized licking and stinky breath. I don't know what I'd do without them!

And just for your viewing pleasure, here are a couple more pics of my sexy knees:

This one is of the teeny wound left behind after the first of the steri-strips came off. It's pretty small, hopefully it won't leave much of a scar!

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And this one is a comparison of my swollen left and normal right knees. There's not much of a knee to be seen in the left one. Ice, ice ice.

One week musings

This is my leg one week out of surgery. It's doing ok! No bruising, and the swelling isn't bad. In this pic you can see steri-strips covering all the smaller incisions and band-aids over the biggest one (I think that's where the arthroscope went in?) They're healing well. My range of motion is good too--I'm at 125 degrees now, and 140 is considered "normal". I hate to brag (ok, no I don't) but my PT said this is one of the best looking knees she's seen a week out of surgery :-)

It's still really weak though--I guess it just takes time for the soft tissue to heal, and there's nothing you can do to rush that. I wish there was. I'm sick of crutches. I'm trying to use them the right way (all the weight on your palms, with no pressure on your armpits) but my underarms are still bruised.

I completely stopped taking Oxycodone yesterday, and I've since realized how much I hate that stuff. I didn't realize until it was out of my system how foggy it makes me feel. I've felt so much more lucid and more motivated the last two days! It was hard for me to force myself to do even my simple PT routine two days ago, whereas today I feel so much more energetic and engaged. I guess I shouldn't attribute all that to the Oxycodone--I'm only a week out of surgery, so obviously every day is going to make a big difference at this point.

Good news: I made my first social outing last night! I went out with a couple of friends to go watch bluegrass music at a bar I like. It was fun, but also hard. I take up so much space--I have to keep my leg propped up and fully extended, and even though I was constantly adjusting my padding and brace and it was still very uncomfortable. Plus crutches are the clumsiest things ever. I'm already a very clumsy person by nature, so put me on crutches and I really don't stand a chance. I feel like I make a huge scene everywhere I go, like an elephant walking into a room. Of course within ten minutes of arriving at the bar I'd knocked over a drink :-( Oy. At least everyone's extremely nice to a person on crutches!

Whenever I get sick, I do this weird thing where I try to imagine what would've happened to me if I'd been afflicted with the same malady as a serf in the middle ages.

I think I would've survived this! At least as long as I could've taken a couple of weeks off to heal after the initial tear. Obviously I wouldn't have had any kind of reconstructive surgery, but I think based on where I was at before surgery, I would've made do and continued working the land, or whatever it was serfs did...

*Can you tell I'm going out of my mind with boredom?*

Things you should have before undergoing ACL surgery (in no particular order):

1) A mantra. Can't stress the importance of this enough, at least for me. It's been massively helpful for me to have something simple to repeat over and over in my head at tough moments (like when I was fighting off tears as they wheeled me into surgery; when I woke up nauseous and feeling like hell; during the pain of the rehab exercises; and whenever I'm generally frustrated). This is corny and a bit embarrassing (and I am completely bastardizing the Ayurvedic concept), but mine is "Ride to Montauk". One of my rehab goals is to save up for a road bike. Next summer I want to do a "century" (a 100-mile bike ride) from Babylon to Montauk. This is motivating and it generates a relaxing mental picture for me. It keeps me looking forward and reminds me that no, this won't be forever. Feel free to borrow it :) Another possibility: "Clear eyes, full hearts, can't lose."

2) A flexible shower head. It makes bathing a whole lot easier after surgery.

3) Flexibility and ab strength. I promise, this is a very worthwhile pre-surgery goal! Being able to touch your toes without bending your knee will make your life a lot easier post-surgery. And just try standing up while keeping one leg straight and non-weight-bearing: you'll see what I mean about the ab strength. My abs are really sore at the end of the day, every day, even though I'm basically just hanging out in bed. Tearing my ACL was, like, the best core workout EVER.

4) Supportive friends and family. I'm so grateful for everyone who has helped me to stave off insanity throughout this process. Especially my mom, who has been a real champ. I don't know what I would've done without her.

5) A yoga mat. Very helpful for doing rehab exercises!

6) Tote and messenger bags: a crutch-user's best friend.

7) A comfortable "command center", complete with chargers and a power source, water bottle, reading material, a melange of pillows, and your personal pharmacy. You will want everything within arm's reach. Set this up before you go in for surgery!

8) A notepad and pen on hand, for keeping track of your meds. This was massively complicated (at least IMHO, but I'm horrible with this sort of thing). I'm lucky my mom quickly set up a simple system for me. Add a little Oxycodone to my already-poor working memory and I definitely would've OD'd without this. Mine is simple: the name of the drug, the hours apart I'm supposed to take it, and if I need to eat with it. Then I write down the time every time I take it. Example:

Oxycodone (6 hrs, EAT) 9pm, 12am, 6:30am

Tylenol (6 hrs) 10am, 4pm, 10pm

You get the idea... Maybe this occurs to everyone else on earth, but it didn't occur to me!

9) A knog! (That's a knee-blog.) This is soooooooo self-indulgent, and I'm sure it would be massively boring to anyone other than me, but it's nice to have an outlet. And I think in a year I'll be glad to have this to look back on to see that yes, I have made some progress. (Or maybe I'll think the same thing I think now: that it's massively self-indulgent and boring.)

The Art of the Sponge Bath

My daily cleaning ritual, oddly enough, is my favorite part of the day. There is something about being clean that I find fundamentally necessary to my sanity. After I initially tore my ACL, being able to take a shower was crucial to feeling human again. It's the same thing post-surgery, but I've had to change my approach because I have to keep the incision sites dry.

After the initial tear, I hopped/flung myself into the shower and showered standing on one leg. It was incredibly precarious, and I'm lucky: a) the shower rod didn't collapse when I used it for leverage; and b) I didn't slip. It could have been disastrous. This time, there's no question of actually getting into the shower since I can't get my left leg wet at all. So I do a modified sponge bath, which is surprisingly effective!

It requires more equipment than a normal shower: I use two big towels, one small one, and a wash cloth. It's also extremely helpful to have a removable flexible shower head. It makes it soooooo much easier to wash your hair! [Stupidly, this didn't even occur to me until my mom asked if I'd been using theirs. The first time I washed my hair after surgery, I did it very awkwardly in the sink.] The whole thing is done sitting down next to the bathtub. It works surprising well! It's also interesting to see how little water you actually need to get clean.

It's a weirdly relaxing process--I recommend sponge baths for everyone!

Back in the (Legasus) saddle

I'm now two days out of surgery. To fill you in:

I've been cutting down on my pain meds pretty quickly. I started out with an arsenal of Oxycodone, Toradol, Tylenol, and an anti-nausea pill to take with the Oxycodone and Toradol. I'm also supposed to take Aspirin every day. I don't like taking the Oxycodone because it makes me sleepy, and I'm almost out of Toradol because the doc didn't want to prescribe too much (I guess anti-inflammatories counter-intuitively actually slow down healing) so now I'm pretty much down to the Tylenol. The pain has been surprisingly mild, actually. I guess I missed out on the worst pain by spending the first night and day in the hospital--they kept me really doped up there. I'm obviously staying off my knee and being really gentle with it, but as long as I ice and elevate, I haven't felt much need for extensive pharmaceuticals.

I've been doing some quad exercises since the day of surgery: leg lifts and quad tightening exercises every hour or two while I'm awake. The quad muscle atrophies amazingly quickly--not sure if that's because of the surgery or because of the tendons that were taken out of my hamstring. I've also been using a continuous passive motion machine, which I lobbied for. It's called "the Legasus"--isn't that glorious? It sounds so majestic! Apparently it's the same technology my uncle used when he tore his ACL 30 years ago. Anyway, I'm strapped into it for a couple of 2-hour shifts every day. I started with it set at about 35 degrees on Wednesday, and I already have it up to 75! It's kind of nice in the beginning when you see so much progress so quickly because there's nowhere to go but up... Oh, and as you can see, I still have to wear a ridiculous Dr. Seuss stocking. It's supposed to prevent blood clots. It's really not bad, I barely notice it, it just looks silly :)

So basically I've just been sleeping and watching lots of t.v. and movies. I discovered "Jersey Shore" is on my mom's On Demand--happy day!

Today, I had my first post-op doctor's appointment. It went well! He said my wounds look great--he even took the stitches out well ahead of schedule and replaced them with steri-strips so I wouldn't have to keep them in until my next appointment in two weeks. It was nice to get the gigantic gauze wrap off, so now I can see what my knee actually looks like. It's swollen, but a lot less scary than I imagined. [Side note: Can you see my doc's initials under my knee? They autograph you before surgery while you're still awake to make sure they don't accidentally replace the wrong ACL!]

The plan now is to stay the course: continue with the quad exercises and the Legasus; keep icing, elevating, and wearing the stocking; and take it easy.

I start PT on Monday (oddly enough, I'll be seeing a woman I went to high school with!) That will be nice--PT back in BK was incredibly helpful, and it gave me a lot of things to do on my own at home. I'm excited to get started.