Saying Goodbye to 2012

It's my blogging tradition to say goodbye to the current year.  So, here it is.  "Goodbye, 2012, you crazy-son-of-a-gun."  I thought since I was already personifying the year by saying goodbye to it  I might as well tag on a term of endearment. 

This really was a crazy, bitter-sweet year. 

I birthed a dissertation.  For some reason that is the only image I can use to describe that process.  I graduated with my Ph.D.  We moved to Dubuque.  I said good-bye to dear friends.   I said hello to new friends.  I started a whole new career.  I experienced growing pains, both personal and professional.  I felt blessed by my growing pains. 

I've missed my friends and family.  I've learned that the home you build up around you and your family...the community you establish...is largely a product of the love and energy that you put into it. (And I can pretty much gaurantee that when Michael reads that line he will crack a joke about the Beatles and their lyrics, "The love you take is equal to the love you make.")  And some days the energy to build that home and community just isn't there and you want to bury yourself in blankets and forget that the day exists.  And other days that energy overflows and you run with it.  And you allow yourself to love new things.  Make new traditions.  Love new people. 

Most importantly, I've learned that God takes care of us no matter our location.  He cared for us in Ames and He cares for us in Dubuque.  He continues to provide regardless of zipcode.  And while it's easy to become homesick, we can rest easy knowing that the memories of our past keep us warm and the hopes for our future keep us moving. 

Tone it down, Kruse.

At times, the hardest aspect of life are lessons that we learn along the way.  Ironically, those lessons, or the realizations of those lessons are also rewarding because it is amazing that we have the opportunity to have truths revealed about us....and more importantly, the opportunity to grow or change.

Until recently I've prized my personality.  I've always been on the more "passionate" side of life.  As a child I took on my own causes...starting an environment club (with just myself, by the way, but I did write out club goals and expectations), writing the mayor of my city my concerns, and I even vividly remember riding my bike to the home of my state legislator when I was in sixth grade, knocking on his front door to chat about equal rights.  Thankfully I had the Girl Scouts as my excuse because he   let me in.  (That was the 80's.  You could go into someone's home without causing a huge scandal).  

But my personality has only intensified throughout the years (though I'm convinced I stalled out in high school, for some reason I think that I must have been somewhat of a dud in that phase).  

And I've prized that passion.  It's driven me to the field that I work in, and it motivates me to keep going. It's caused me to be expressive, spontaneous, and wear my heart on sleeve.  (Side note, I almost typed "literally wear my heart on my sleeve" until I realized how disgusting that actually is).  

But now I've had to take a step back and re-evaluate.  Perhaps, at times, I'm too much.  The inflections in my voice.  My hand-gestures.  My knee-jerk reactions in some conversations.  I wonder if this expression could easily be misinterpreted as as abrupt or abrasive.  (By the way, my husband disagreed when I asked him this.  But then I thought, I'm sure my husband, who shares my bed, doesn't really want to say "Yes, honey, you're too abrasive".)  

Not that I think that I have to change my personality...but I think that I need to reflect on the level of the intensity of my reactions and responses.  

A good friend once told me that I don't have a poker-face, and she's right.  If  I'm confused, happy, annoyed, it shows up on my face in pretty quick.  I should have been in comedy, because for some reason it seems like the faintest expression on me appears exaggerated.  And when I try to remain expression-less I'm pretty sure I look grumpy.  My hand motions also tend to be a bit over-played.  I really need to become more self-aware of how my body-language contributes to the energy of those around me.  

I also need to consider my reactions--both the response-time and level of intensity.  I need to remember that A) my emergencies are for sure not the emergencies of others and B) not everything deserves the same level of passion and energy.  Ironically I'm probably exaggerating B a little bit.  I do know that not everything deserves the same level, but I do feel I need to be more selective on what I am most expressive about.  In addition to making people, particularly those who don't know me, feel uncomfortable...I worry that if I come come off as intense on so many issues, how will people know what it is that I am really passionate about?    

If I bought a brand-new alarm clock, the sound of its alarm would startle me the first few mornings.  My heart might even race.  I probably wouldn't be able to fall back to sleep.  Eventually, I would get used to the alarm and my hand would easily find its way to the snooze button.  I'd be able to roll-over, and at times, even forget that it ever went off.  I don't want people, both personally and professionally, to learn to hit my snooze button.  Because what if at one point...there is something I really, really need to say.  What if something on my most passionate list (disability rights, love for family and friends, inclusion, my faith) simply gets ignored because the sound of my own alarm has become background noise, easy to be ignored?

My personality has it's own conflicts.  While I am expressive, I'm also highly sensitive.  I'm very sensitive to how I might have made others feel (unfortunately I'm better and realizing after-the-fact rather than in-the-moment).  I feel very hurt and broken if I've realized that I in someway hurt someone else or made them feel uncomfortable.  I do know that as a person that I fail often in my personal interactions, but just to know that I've been the cause of frustration or hurt can be enough to immobilize me.  And I know that needs to change.  I need to be very aware of how my expression and timing can directly influence another person's mood.  One of my favorite quotes, "Do you light up a room when you walk in, or when you walk out?"  I don't want to be anyone's darker moment.  

I don't think those who know me best will ever describe me as "even keel".  My days working at Camp taught me that a keel is the center of the canoe.  We were taught the term "heel on the keel".  If you go off of the keel to quick or too far, you could easily tip your canoe.  (But you don't have to worry about the keel if you have a giant snake in your boat, but that is a story for another day).  I just need to remember to keep "heel on the keel".  I'll always be a bit wobbly.  I'll never be perfectly even---and I don't think I was designed to be.  I don't think my Creator made me that way.  But I do think He did make me reflective, responsive, and responsible to the individuals that surround me in my daily life and so I need to work to be more self-aware to the impact of my expressions and passion to those around me.  

Side note:  I'm fairly confident that I just explained my canoe analogy all wrong, which justifies that while working at Camp they kept me far away from the canoes and stuck me in Arts and Crafts.  

What's on my heart today.....

Sam has an "agenda" (fancy name for a planner) that he has to take back and forth to school every day.  Keeping with Kruse tradition, life got hectic this week and we misplaced his planner for about 24 hours.  Last night, while completing our nightly ritual of me looking at the agenda and signing off that I had, indeed, seen it, I noticed that his teacher put a frowny face in red pen where my signature would go.  This made me a little sad.  Sam is a new kid at school, this is our first year learning this rigid planner routine, and the thought of him having to see this picture every time he used at school this week made my heart a little sad.

Meanwhile, Aubri has been over the moon about school.  She can't get enough of it.  She wants to go on Saturdays and Sundays and literally cried when I told her that I didn't have any homework for her.  So, what has happened between age 3 and 3rd grade?  From spirited and joyful about learning to anxiety and red frowny-faced planners?

I wrote a little poem (just a little diddy, if you will ;-)  on what my heart speaks on this matter:

Perfectly Imperfect

About a year ago (well, who knows really when it was, sounds like a good way to start....) I sat in our pediatrician's office waiting for our appointment.  I found myself flipping through parent magazines, which in of itself was strange because it was probably the first time in 8 years I didn't spend the entire waiting time following an inpatient toddler around who was determined to explore the ins and outs of germ-infested doctor offices.  I started scanning the "advice" given by both professionals and parents.  I examined the pictures in both advertisements and articles.  And two ideas popped into my head...1) I cannot relate to this,  and 2) no wonder I was so anxious when I was pregnant with Sam and in his first year of life.  These magazines painted this incredibly unrealistic picture of what being a mom entails and literally looks like.  Perfect discipline, perfect nutrition that must be paired with cutesy presentation of all major food groups, stylish clothes for the whole family. Disneyworld and Beaches resort vacations.  And everyone must be smiling.  Always.

Throughout my grad school years friends and strangers (but oddly, no family members ;-) commented on me being "Super Mom" and I had to shy away from those comments....I just didn't see it (or don't see it).  In fact, I'd argue that all of my mom friends are "Super".  This idea of "Super Mom" or being "Magazine Perfect" is in contradiction with my life.  Evidence:
1.  Noah's hair.  Seriously.  He's the nutty professor in a 6 year-old body. I know it needs cut.  And yes, I know I sent him to school with it that way (and yes, I tried to tame it at the door of the school building this a.m. by patting it down with my own spit on my hand).  The fact that I wasn't bothered when the before school staff told me that Noah had read the word "Ass" out loud because another student wrote it in sidewalk chalk was probably icing on the cake for that person.  In fact, I probably looked proud that my former non-reader had such great word decoding skills.  And I'm not entirely convinced that the other student who wrote the word was not Sam.  I didn't even ask.  I was late for work.  Nodding and smiling about the situation was all I had to offer.
2.  Is Little Ceasar's pizza a food group?
3.  I've worn the same black pants alllllllll week.  And I'm not apologizing.
4.  My self-talk.  Do other mom's do this??  Do other mom's have phrases that they just keep in their head...but the fact that they are there, may be disturbing if other people knew?  For instance, every time I hear my children whine, I think "Every time you whine an angel loses its wings".  I don't SAY it.  But I think it.  And it makes me at least smile on the inside.  And that's really just the surface of my self-talk catch phrases.  So, if while my child is whining, you're thinking I'm pondering strategies to positively direct my child into appropriate behavior.....think again.  I'm taking my mommy-self on a vacay to Florida where only me and ONLY me sits on a beach with a big fat margarita.  Where I don't have to think about the poor angels losing their wings.
5.  My house is clean.  When I have visitors.  Neighbors:  please don't randomly stop by because it ain't pretty.   It's not uncommon for me to take a step back, look at my kitchen, and think "Thank goodness this is not a restaurant  because the Health Department would Shut. This. Down.  And to think that's where I lovingly prepare beautiful, crafty meals for four cherubs and doting husband.

And I don't say this to encourage us to all be Slacker-Moms.  That's not the case at all.  I'm saying this because I think we need to give ourselves a bit of a break.  Ultimately, all of my kids are growing up in a home where despite our flaws, they know they are loved.  They know that God loves them.  They know that  at the end of the day they may not have the fanciest clothes or the fanciest toys or awesome vacations....but they have me.  All of me.  The flaws and the fun.  The sad and the happy.  The frizzy hair and the wide smile.  (The squishy arms and the stinky feet...really, folks, we could go on forever ;-)  The point is....as their parents WHO we are is sufficient enough.  Perfectly imperfect.

Celebrating Teachers

Last night I made a Facebook post in reflection of my child's chromosome disorder and the effect that has had on his learning and development and how we've witnessed his teachers truly rise to the occasion of  not only meeting his needs, but nurturing his growth.  I received several thoughtful comments on my FB page so I've decided to extend some of my thoughts here....

I've had the fortunate experience of examining education from multiple angles: student, teacher, government employee, parent, researcher, and now, pre-service teacher-trainer.  I've had the opportunity to do both hard work and deep reflection from each of these angles and I've come to this conclusion:  Teachers amaze me.  

From the student's perspective...I loved, loved, loved school.  I would count the days down from summer break to school just waiting for the smell of textbooks and newly-waxed floors.  I think if I could by a candle that said "first day of school smell" I would stock-up without hesitation.  And it wasn't because of my friends that I loved school (though you are all very great!).  We moved quite a bit in my childhood so my friendships did not remain constant from year-to-year, but what did remain from year-to-year was some pretty awesome teachers who taught me not only how to read, but how to love to read.  They taught me how to write, type, think, sing, disagree.....the list of the skills and dispositions I got out of my education...the list that makes me, well, me....goes on and on.  And it wasn't necessarily the latest and greatest teaching strategy that made the most impact on my education, but the willingness of my teachers to establish relationships with me.  This sleepy Saturday morning, I celebrate the teachers who nurtured my growth:  Mrs. Sackett, Mrs. Witzel, Mrs. Meinecke, Mrs. Menning, Miss Caston, Mr. Peterson...and even the teachers who were never officially my "teachers" but still took the time to get to know me, like Mr. Maxwell and Mrs. Lubeck.  It's impossible to name all of the teachers and school staff who made an impact on my growth, and I fear this post will fall-short in the list of the teachers I should never stop thanking.  

From the teacher's perspective I've gotten to know many dedicated, hard-working, and incredible teachers.  I observed teachers who loved their content areas and loved their students, and when I saw those two passions intersect they created heart-bursting, eye-popping learning environments.  Did I see some non-examples of good teaching?  Absolutely.  And could those non-examples shape and disturb the educational experiences of the children and families involved?  Absolutely, I don't neglect to recognize those experiences have and do occur, and I'm very much concerned for the children and families involved.  But from inside the school, looking out, I don't want the small percentage of non-examples to overshadow the teachers who radiate in their noble profession.  I can't even begin to name the teachers I've met in my career that I simply love.  But I will take the time to celebrate my teacher-friend Jan Westrum who I got to be neighbors with in our school building.  I'm pretty sure I've never told her "thanks" for being the teacher-model that I very much needed in my life.  She modeled an open-door policy for ALL students and teachers, a drive to continue growing in content knowledge and pedagogy, and a true and unfailing care for each student in her room, regardless of gifts and background.  She also modeled positive colleague relationships and professional behavior all while maintaining a sense of humor and a sense of fun.  I still think it would be pretty awesome to be Jan when I grow up.  

From the state-government employee perspective, I can't help but to be astounded that teachers remain in the profession as long as they do.  I don't mean to say this to be negative on our state and federal government, but the ever-changing climates of our political system have an impact on our educational system that I can only compare to a silent avalanche.  Those on the outer bounds may not even know the impact of legislative change or policy change, but the teachers and programs impacted must quickly dig themselves out of the frequent chaos and push forward, all while maintaining a calm, "business-as-usual" demeanor to assure they don't upset the climate in their schools.  Teachers feel the direct blows from the constant collision of the federal government, state government, regional systems, school districts, teachers unions, and school boards more than any of us.  And to my former colleagues working in the state and regional system,  your work is also amazing.  Working to assure quality and equitable education for each and every child in our state is no easy task, but I want those who are "down on our government employees" to know that each and every person I worked with at the Dept. of Ed has a level of work-ethic and dedication that would be difficult to beat. 

Before I leave this blog entry, I have to speak from a parent's perspective.  I have had to advocate for my son, and at times, challenge our school system to "try again" in their services to Noah.  I've had maddening and frustrating experiences. But I'm learning to not to let those isolated experiences paint the picture of my child's past or future in education.  (Notice I said "learning" not "I have arrived"...).  I started this journey with a "worst case scenario" disposition and have since realized that Noah's teachers have rose to the occasion of not only meeting his needs, but nurturing his growth.  I sat in a meeting once with a teacher in tears because she did not know how to "un-lock" his reading skills.  She wasn't in tears because she thought he was lazy and didn't know what to do.  She was in tears because she wanted him to read so badly and felt overwhelmed by her responsibility for my son.  She never stopped trying to find just the right "key" for him.  And she did find it.  She collaborated with a teacher and began a reading program that engaged Noah in not only letters/words, but in pictures, body movements, sound cues, etc. It was much more support than a "typical" learner but they did it anyway because they cared for him.  Yesterday I found out that he started out first grade reading at a higher level than expected for a beginning first grader and that he is on target for maintaining that growth.  I cried.  Our new school doesn't know how hard he's worked and the amount of dedication put forth by his teachers and parents since he was 10 months old.  But I know.  And it made me weep.  

Yes.  As a teacher-trainer, researcher, and systemic-thinker I think we have a long ways to go in teacher preparation.  But that's the beauty of the field of Education.  We will never arrive.  Our children and families will be constantly changing as our society and culture evolves.  We will never arrive. But there's no one more dedicated to keep trudging through this insane jungle than the teachers that have surrounded me, and more importantly, that are surrounding my children.  

Glimpses of the "Teen Years"...

I overheard a pretty hilarious conversation this morning that I just CAN'T keep to myself. 

A little background...
Aubri has been my most independent child from the get-go.  She rarely let us "spoon" feed her as an infant, she was the first to refuse to hold her hand when walking with her, and she reminds us mulitple times a day that, "I AM bigger now" while standing on her tippy-toes and reaching her chin as far into the air as she can.  She is in constant "need" to be older and bigger.

But THIS morning topped all of our other experiences with this need of hers....

I was in our living room, and she was in the kitchen.  I heard "distressed" voices, so naturally, I tuned in.  (Really, we are a 24-hour dramatic Reality TV show here in the Kruse household).  Here is what I picked up on:

Aubri (age 3): DADDY.  I want you to drop me off at the school.

Michael:  Yes, I am taking you to school.

Aubri:  NO.  Drop me OFF.  No go inside with me.

Michael: Aubri, I have to go inside and take you to your class.

Aubri:  NO.  Drop me OFF.

Michael:  If I just drop you off they will think I am a bad dad.  Note:  we find giving her reasons that put it on ourselves rather than saying, "you're not old enough", works easier....

Aubri:  No.  You are a NOT a bad dad.

Michael:  Aubri, I have to take you in.

Aubri:  But I am FOURTEEN.

By this time Michael had given up on the conversation and moved on with his morning by ignoring her.  I, on the otherhand, was laughing in the living room.  Aubri has given "false facts" about her age before.  Typically, according to her, her age ranges from 3-7.  But this was a first.  Never in my imagination did I think that I would have a three year old daughter who wanted to be fourteen so badly.  And it's not so much the three going on 14 that scares me....it's the 14 going on.....????  that scares me the most!

I'm a Freshman, again. And it feels great (ish).

Tonight I got the rosters for the four courses I'll be teaching this semester and the first thought I had was, "Huh!  They were really serious about giving me this gig!"  These last couple of weeks I've been working on my syllabi, trying to figure out the different policies and procedures of the College so that I could respond to student emails, and working out the nuts and the bolts of my new position.  This all has me feeling like a freshman again.  Only I don't live in awesome dorms with my soon-to-best and long-life friends.  Instead, I'm 34, I do live with my best friend, and we also live with four young people that cry too-easily and could possibly pee their pants if you tickle them too hard.  But none-the-less, I have that freshman feeling about me. 

I don't know the campus.  And I'll be too proud to use a map on the first day. 
I don't know many people.  I'll probably flash my awkward-but-don't-I-look-friendly smile to innocent passerbyers.  I don't even know if passerbyer is a word (but the freshman in me would rather sound witty than intelligent). 
I have a "place" to move into.  And I'm genuinely excited to settle into it and maybe even give a whirl at some sort of decor. 
I'm naive, energetic, hopeful, nauseaus, anxious,cautious and excited.  I'm happy to make new friends, worried that some will hate me, and wouldn't mind a phone call from my mom and dad after my first day. 

And this is what feels great---I know that this first year will be a year that I get to look back on with nostalgia--the same way I looked back on my own freshman year(s) :-), my first year working at Camp, my first year teaching, and my first year of grad school.  There will be some triumphs (I figured out the copy machine!) and some defeats.  But it's in those defeats that my greatest growth will occur. 

And so my greatest hopes include that every once in awhile I'll pause and breathe in deep the newness of my air and realize that I will never again be a true "Freshman" faculty member.  That this is my year to grow and seize.  And that a year from now, I hope to chuckle at the amount of anxiety I had about emailing a student a simple procedure.  That I'll laugh at my insecurities in forming new relationships over a cup of coffee with a new friend and colleague. 

I get to be a freshman again.   It feels promising, hopeful, and exciting.  It feels....great.