Second Home

My classroom always felt like my second home to me and to my students. It had to. I wasn't comfortable otherwise. I had bean bag chairs on the rug in the reading corner and pictures of all the students family members up on the walls (including my own). We had rules and schedules to follow but it was all pretty cool and together.

My kids and I were comfortable and learning and communicating and it always felt like they were a part of me for the 10 months that I had them all to myself. We were respectful and cooperative (most of the time) and we tried very hard to be 'good citizens' in our classroom and school community.

I looked forward to going to our classroom and spending quality learning time in there. It was ours. We respected it and tried to keep it pretty. (As pretty as you could get in a NYC classroom...grey concrete isn't always that luscious.)

Once in a while, we'd have a practice fire drill where we'd have to line up quickly and evacuate the premises as quickly and quietly as we could. It was all very routine for all of us. We had it down to a science. But if faced with the rush of a real fire, would we be able to evacuate safely?

I always had the Columbine Tragedy etched in my memory. It was still a fresh wound in our teaching-hearts. And it made me more aware of the terrible things that people do in desperation. But this was my home. Nothing could happen in my home.

Early one morning, I was called by my principal on the "bat phone" (we used to call it)...He spoke calmly and asked me to please remain calm while he asked me if I had any family in the Twin Towers. I calmly uttered 'no' while he quickly instructed me to act as if nothing was wrong and to please close the window shades and doors and keep the kids calm and IN THE ROOM. (The towers were visible from MY room.) No bathroom trips, no unexpected trips to the yard for an art experiment and no discussing the collapse and attack of the first Tower.

I remained calm. It was all too surreal to act any differently.

I only knew these kids as my own for one and a half days. It was first period and we were right in the middle of a "Getting to Know You Conference". We were all sitting on the floor with the desks shoved in the corners. Giggling and laughing about one kid's pet Chinchilla and his dust baths. Then the shit hit the fan.

People running through the hallways and talking loudly in a panicked tone prompted the kids to question the commotion. (They were sixth graders and street smart..they knew something was up). I waited until word from my Principal to say anything and while immigrant kids were being escorted out of the building by extremely frightened parents, I began to discuss the matter as openly and calmly as I could with the kids. It was scary.

We had an emergency assembly with the remaining students and had to wait until about 6pm until all the kid's parents were present and accounted for. Surprisingly 'only' one little kindergartener lost her Daddy that day in the entire school. (One too many in our school family)

We were in a state of panic.

After that. It just wasn't ever the same.

Emergency lock downs were practiced and bomb drills were rehearsed on a weekly basis. They are not the same as a fire drill I assure you.

Locking two classroom doors, covering all the windows and remaining mouse-quiet with 30+ children at the back of the room while you wait for the 'secret code' to come over the loudspeaker to let you know the intruder is out of the building or being detained is scary stuff. That I can promise you.

Yes, they were only drills. However, they were constant reminders that things have changed. The once homey classroom felt like a prison that we couldn't escape in the clutches of terror if need be.

I saw the kids differently after that. They had their own lives to live and families to protect them. Who was I? I was just a scared and newly-wed woman who wanted to go home to her own family, but whose responsibility was to protect her young charges. Could I? If faced with such a tragedy as the other day at VA Tech., could I protect my students if their life depended on it?

I pray that I could.

I send all of my love to those families from Virginia. And those brave and honorable teachers who lost their lives trying to protect their students. In an institution that is supposed to be a safe-haven and a second home, it was invaded and lives were taken. I am reeling.

Adios Kittenstein...Is the dog next?

This is an e-mail I sent to a friend telling her about the sicko cat we had for almost a year...I don't understand my luck with animals. I can't seem to bond with the four legged fur-balls. I dunno, maybe it's me?

This happened about a year ago...
But the memory still haunts.

"The cat...Oh the cat....the cat has left the building! Yup, we got rid of her. OK...here's the situation...don't laugh too hard especially if you are at work....:

Fa and I were playing with her instruments that she got for her birthday. She had the drum and I had the kazoo. Well, we're playing and laughing and carrying on when all of a sudden out of nowhere....The cat comes running in, BARKING and howling and hissing at me. She was hissing and yowlling, her fur was on end, her ears were back and her tail was thick. I panicked. I grabbed SF and locked ourselves in the bedroom.

She's screaming, I'm screaming the cat's screaming. It was like Cujo for cats. The cat wouldn't let us out of the room. She guarded it and growled when I tried to escape! Then, she calmed down a little so we left our confines but then, she blocked the stairway. The bitch wouldn't let us go up the stairs. Fa's room is upstairs. We're all still screaming and then....Fa throws up all over the couch. I got her so upset that she puked. Now I had to clean the smelly, regurgitated big bird cracker-stained couch with an evil cat on my tail. I was so scared....The scene was so evil, I was walking around with a broom for safety...Every move I made the cat would lose it and try to pounce. I never heard sounds like that before...Like a lawnmower with a frog caught in it. I called the animal shelter and they didn't want her either.

Six hours later...BD came home. The cat almost jumped him too. He got her to calm down and we locked her in the laundry room. She stayed there all night. She was afraid of me. I guess she associated me with the kazoo....Every time she saw me she snapped again.

Needless to say...Adios kittenstein....

I always hated this cat...

OK now you can laugh"

The dog just might be next...One more accident and Adios Pupster...

Why I hate Scorpion Woman

I saw my "trainer" again the other day. I hate her. Not because she's cute, young and little and built like a brick shit house. But because she is an amateur who is trying to pass herself off as a reputable, experienced personal trainer. She is not. I know this. Now, I may have mentioned in previous posts that I was a dance teacher in my former life. I know a thing or two about kinesiology and physical well being. I had a healthy body and it was quite nice. I spent all my time dancing and working out. It's just been a really long while and I wanted to find someone who could get me motivated enough to get me going on my own. She is NOT that person. She is looking to build her resume.

In our initial meeting, she proceeded to explain all of her certifications and experience but when I asked her about my Target Heart Rate (THR) during cardio workouts she couldn't answer my question. I wanted to know what the percentage means when she said I was at 65% intensity at my fastest THR. She said it was the percentage of the rate that I work out. Duh? I still don't get it.

What it really means is:
"Healthy Heart Zone (Warm up) --- 50 - 60% of maximum heart rate: The easiest zone and probably the best zone for people just starting a fitness program. It can also be used as a warm up for more serious walkers. This zone has been shown to help decrease body fat, blood pressure and cholesterol. It also decreases the risk of degenerative diseases and has a low risk of injury. 85% of calories burned in this zone are fats!"


That's kinda what she shoulda said, no? It means in the height of my cardio, (when my heart is beating fastest) I am at the "warm up" stage in my workout. But in reality it feels like I'm gonna pass out. Not good. At least that's how I interpret the information. But I am a laywoman when it comes to being technical and especially at math. As a trainer, with all of her credentials, shouldn't she be able to explain that to me clearly?

Then this week, I asked her if we could work on my abs because I know they are the weakest part of my body and they are what holds the rest of me upright. Without strong abs, I am nothing. (I also wanted her to show me the ab equipment so I could use it on my own!) Nope. She refused. She wanted to work on my back. My back is weak. It's weak because my abs are weak. Turns out, we worked out my back until I couldn't stand straight. Then I had zero energy to actually do the ab workout. Now, I am sore again, without using an abdominal muscle. I know my back is related to my abs when it comes to "core/trunk muscles" but if the weakest part can't help the part we are targeting, shouldn't we reverse the workout and strengthen the weaker parts first? Just a thought.

She also had me some 'at-tit-ude' when I told her I couldn't work out with her 5 days a week for many reasons. a) I can't afford a thousand personal training sessions at 80$ a clip. b) I will get discouraged because I can't do it all correctly all the time. c) I can't go to the gym 5 days a week because I do still have a child and a husband at home that would like to see me once in a while. d) I have a life, believe it or not, other than working out. I asked her if she understood and she fucking said, "Well, not reallyyyyy but if that's whatchyou want." Psycho hose beast.

She's a kid trying to rack up some PT hours for her resume and I won't allow her to do that and jeopardize my body. Her date book is empty by the way, my name was the only other person in there besides poor "Bruce". I sure don't know who he is but he must be an asshole if he is allowing her to train him. Or pimp him out, she might be a madam for all I know. She does like to flirt with all the hot male bodies that flank the floor, kissing their biceps in the ceiling to floor wall-mirrors.

There are other reasons why I hate the Scorpion Woman, but I'll spare you, dear reader, the boring stuff. If you got this far, bless you. If you know anything about training the body back into some semblance of what used to be, drop me a line. I'd love to hear from someone who actually knows what they are talking about.

In the meantime, I'll see Scorpion Woman one more time, if I don't call up and cancel on her skinny ass. -Since she strong armed me (literally) into planning another session with her. I swear she is showing me those ab machines next time. If not, I will kick her in the neck.