Snow Day - a Teacher's Best Friend

Back in September, I wrote one of those "I'm frazzled!" posts, and haven't recovered since. Nothing has changed. In fact, things may have gotten worse.

I don't know that non-teachers would ever understand the incredible relief and joy I felt when school was cancelled for the past two days due to snow. I wasn't the only one stuck to the television and weather websites on Tuesday night, crossing my fingers, thinking "Please, oh please... please let's have a snow day!" I imagined I could hear my colleagues shouting YESSSSS! in to their phones as we got our snow chain calls late that night.

How shameful, you might think. Teachers have it easy, you might suggest. After all, teachers only work until 3, have summers off, and enjoy several holidays built in to the yearly calendar. So why the giddy excitement over a snow day?

Classroom teachers have it bad. I'm serious. It's gotten so out of control that the "teaching-is-my-life" mantra I used to wear like a badge, has become "teaching's gonna kill me, and lots of the folks I work with." I'm not exaggerating. Spend a day or two in my shoes and see what's happening.

Were it not for the pure satisfaction in watching children grow as readers and writers, the eye-opening discoveries that occur in math class, and the simple sense of community that comes from relationship-building, I would have totally lost it by now. However, in the scheme of NCLB and the desperation of local administrators to raise scores, time spent teaching and learning has decreased dramatically, while test-taking and useless transportations of paper have taken over.

I teach after school twice a week, and on Wednesdays I stay after for the required monthly staff meeting, as well as one or two additional "staff development" Wednesday meetings, often at the whim of my principal. On the two other days, I stay in my classroom after hours to clean up, and to be honest, to catch up. One school day can result in an enormous mess on one's desk, with no chance to get to it during the day. During the week I reach my home exhausted, with no desire to do much of anything. And yet, you can find me at my desk, after dinner, doing school work until 10 or so.

Typically, I spend most of my weekend at my desk in my chilly basement, grading papers, doing research for my lessons, locating appropriate reading materials (I don't have enough books at my students' reading and English levels), calling parents, and marking the numerous district assessments I am obligated to give - as well as completing special answer sheets and tracking sheets and data sheets. I also spend the weekend preparing fundraisers, planning and organizing parent workshops, and completing referral forms. I should not leave out lesson-planning, which is the most time consuming of tasks. Those that wish to control, rather than see what and how we teach, require pages and pages of descriptive lesson plans. (My principal has not stepped foot in my room even once this year...)

So yeah, I wanted these snow days. I prayed for them, danced, chanted, and wished for them.

Customer Service

(Here is what I wish I had overheard and seen in the main office this morning, when a young mother came to pick up her child from school.)

Good Morning! How can I help you? (Smile...)

You're here to sign your child out? May I ask the reason? (Nod politely...)

Alright then. May I ask your child's name?

And what room is your child in? Teacher's name? (Prod patiently...)

You're not sure? Well, if you tell me what grade your child is in, I can help you with that.

Please sign here while I call for your child. (Point, provide a pen...)

You're not sure where to sign? Here, please sign here. (Smile...)

Now, please have a seat while you wait for your child to come down. Can I help you with anything else? (Smile...)

Here is your child! Do you have everything? It was nice to meet you - have a lovely day! (Smile and wave...)

Dear mother-in-the-office,
I am sorry your experience in our school was so uncomfortable this morning. I wish I had stepped in to take over. Unfortunately there are certain "territories" that must not be invaded and I've been told not to get involved when I see this happening.

You were spoken to disrespectfully. The person whose job it was to assist you was rude and impatient. I would not be surprised if you avoid coming to our school in the future and if you speak poorly about our staff.

My Torture Chamber

I apologize to my loyal readers for not posting regularly in the past couple of weeks. I've been doing mean things to kids, all in the name of TESTING.

Here is a violent run-down of what's been keeping me occupied:

1. Squeezing in more math skills
2. Cramming in more writing
3. Force-feeding hideously long reading passages to "practice" comprehension
4. Killing the love of writing because they are making me teach formulaic strategies for responding to writing prompts
5. Hanging up signs, posters, and other "nice-looking" items on every available blank space, because an important person will be visiting next week
6. Slapping up extra vocabulary words on my Word Wall because K and X "are empty" and a few of the other letters don't have "enough"

I'm sorry kids, but they make me do it.

The mistreatment is self-inflicted as well. I've confined myself to my dark, damp basement to grade papers, do report cards, and write lesson plans. Meanwhile, it's 88 and gorgeous outside.

Our state test is scheduled to begin on May 4th. Until then, and until it's over, more gritting of teeth and relentless stress.

Can't wait to take back my classroom. Can't wait to read and write real stories and poems together. Can't wait for exciting math projects. Looking forward to returning to the kind of teaching and learning that actually means something.

Cleaning is not Living

Esto de limpiar no me gusta –
no tengo tiempo y
hay muchas otras cosas que hacer.
Tampoco me fascinan los productos que compré
para que el trabajo sea más fácil –
once botellas de venenos líquidos,
latas de polvos cáusticos,
organizadas en el espacio debajo del lavaplatos.
Apenas las miro, me desanimo.

¿Por qué hay tanto que hacer?
Pasar aspiradora,
barrer la cocina,
desempolvar,
cambiar las sábanas,
quitar lo quemado del horno,
lavar ropa,
desinfectar el baño,
mapear los pisos,
buscar la mugre que se esconde en cada rincón…
qué aburrido.

¿Quién se distrae con toda esta mierda?

Mejor sería para mí
acomodarme en el sillón con mi gato,
leer mi libro,
mirar las noticias,
o ver alguna película que acaba de salir.
Quiero tomar y gozar de mi café
mientras mire los pájaros por la ventana,
disfrutar un juego de mesa con mi hijo,
tomar una siesta,
escribir…

Pero, tengo que encontrarme
con un trapo en la mano
en este fin de semana.

Mejor lo hago luego.
No vayas a pensar que soy una floja, pues
tengo muchas otras cosas que hacer.

Feelin' good and cozy about tests

Today and tomorrow, my school will be in "testing mode". Instead of teaching reading and writing during the customary uninterrupted Literacy Block from 10:30 -12:00, we will all have a "simulation test".

This test is actually a district benchmark math assessment which someone thought could also serve as a simulation for the actual state test. (Brilliant!) In other words, all students from Kindergarten through fourth grade will be tested today.

The "Quiet, TESTING" signs will be up on all of the doors, there will be silence in the halls, proctors will be assigned to every room, and an announcement from the principal will call for the testing to begin and end at the prescribed times. Those of you who are familiar with testing may also know that since my students are ELLs, they have certain accommodations, such as time and a half. Where the general program might have 45 minutes for a particular section, mine have 67. Some students use the time, some don't. Most get frustrated.

All this so our students will feel "comfortable" with the testing environment and time constraints.

My fourth graders are looking at two days of 46 pages containing 50 multiple choice and open-ended questions. A lot of the material on it has not yet been "covered". How can it be? We're always testing!

There's a district reading benchmark test which is supposed to take place "some time" next week; administration is not sure when. We'll also have a district writing benchmark assessment the first week in February.

You know, to make the students feel comfortable with testing.

Wax, wick, and will

This week was horrible.

She went back to school on Monday after almost two glorious weeks of winter vacation. Knowing she had loads of work to hand in, plus the cold, and the pains that had been increasing lately, all week she felt like she was walking in a fog.

Work is doing her in. She’s a teacher. She works with fourth graders. After 18 years at this, she expected things to get easier. The total opposite has happened.

It’s not the kids. They’re a pleasure. She still believes in this profession. Teaching fills her, it satisfies, it’s her mark on tomorrow.

But give her a break, please!

This teacher is no good to anyone when they take advantage of her, when they overload her day with so many wasteful, silly, insignificant things to do, when they don’t give her a chance to use the ladies’ room, when she can’t eat a sorry piece of sandwich on her lunch break, when they expect her to write lesson plans and correct papers and fill out reports until 11 at night and during the entire weekend.

This teacher has stopped sleeping for all of the thousands of things she thinks about in the dark.

This week she accepted that the flame is flickering, barely holding on.

Desahogo

Esta semana la pasó fatal.

El lunes regresó a clases después de dos semanas gloriosas de vacaciones invernales. Sabiendo que había un montón de trabajos que entregar, más el frío, más los dolores que se habían estado multiplicando ultimamente, toda la semana sintió que estaba caminando por una neblina.

El trabajo la tiene mal. Es una maestra. Enseña a niños de cuarto grado. Después de 18 años en este trabajo, esperaba que las cosas se harían más fáciles. Pués, lo contrario.

No se queja de los alumnos. Son un placer. Y no ha dejado de amar la profesión; este trabajo le llena, le satisface, es su contribución al futuro.

Pero… déjenla en paz, ¡porfavor!

La maestra no sirve para nada si la abusan, si la cargan con demasiadas responsabilidades, si no la dejan ir al baño, si no le dan tiempo por comer un miserable pedazo de sándwich en la hora de almorzar, si esperan que escriba lecciones y corrija papeles y complete reportes hasta las 11 de la noche y durante todo el fin de semana.

La maestra ha dejado de dormir porque no puede dejar de pensar en miles de cosas en las horas oscuras.

Esta semana ha tenido que aceptar que a veces la llamita se quiere apagar, apenas se mantiene.

So tired, I can't sleep

Nine o’clock, exhausted, ready for bed
so cold, extra blankets
alarm set, good night.
My eyes opened at 11, I remembered the laundry.
I woke again at 12, counted to 239, thought about work.
I saw the clock at 1:34, wondered if it had to do with age?
Flipped the pillow to the cool side,
threw my arm around my husband at 1:55,
and mulled over an argument.
Counted to three hundred something
and saw green glowing at 2:46,
considered where to stop for gas in the morning.
Unwrapped myself from too-warm covers at 3:50,
tugged at the comforter again around 4:44,
mentally rearranged the next day’s class schedule.
Sirens! Screaming! Beeping!
Fumbled for the button at 5:30,
hit snooze, not so gently, for just 10 more precious minutes.

Losing focus

My apologies to the good folks who follow my blog. I've not posted for a bit because my job has taken over my life!

People need to know what teachers are dealing with these days! Who would have thought that an elementary school teacher would be so overwhelmed, so stressed out, and so overworked, that she would have to stay up on several week nights past 11 pm!

After 18 years in this profession, I thought things would become a little easier; with experience, things become second nature, you know? However, administration seems to look for more ways to bring us down, so we're practically crawling and scraping our way across the shiny floors.

Too much to describe here, and I don't wish to sound so terribly negative. But a very sad thing is happening in schools today, at least where I'm at. They are wearing us down. We are becoming tired of fighting the good fight. Morale is low. People smile weakly at each other in the hallways, speedwalking the kids to the next class, rushing to grade-level meetings where we will be told of yet another assessment that will determine what we need to focus on.

Focus. We're not able to focus any longer. There are too many foci at a time, I fear we will only be mediocre in the end.

They tell us the big focus this year is science, to incorporate it in every way possible, especially throughout the literacy block. In fact, we've been told to put aside a lot of the literature, and to use the science text and science leveled readers to teach reading. (Wow.)

At the same time, we are to focus on writing, and vocabulary. Infuse it in all areas.

And test. Benchmark tests. Quarterly tests. On-line tests. State assessments. Friday tests. Just last week I gave my 4th graders a district math test, 53 pages long, that took two days!

I'm not going anywhere. But I feel for the newer teachers who are just coming in to this field, and feeling like they will walk right back out. And I hate seeing so many colleagues becoming resentful and tired.

I feel some of that bitterness growing inside me, so I try my best to talk myself out of it on the drive to work. My kids need to see a cheerful and energetic person in the front of the room. They will get just that. I love my job, I love my kids, I love the art and science of teaching.

But I hate what has happened to school.

Dedication and dehydration

I am dehydrated and frustrated. I am tired and annoyed. I am doing the best I can. I am running around in circles. I am doing what I know is best. I am trying to please the unappeasable. I am reading, signing, checking, conferencing, questioning, supervising, planning, documenting, and differentiating. The “Lone Ranger” theme plays in the background while I hurry my charges from math, to vocabulary, to writing, to reading, to lunch, to ESL, and then through a frenzied science lab which we manage to plow through in 20 minutes. A few minutes before dismissal I sound like an auctioneer rattling off the homework assignments and reminding them to get their forms signed, while the principal drowns me out with her booming afternoon announcements. We have chaos in Room 219.

I spent 12 hours at school today, and not once did I stop to drink water! Of course, many teachers avoid water as we do not have the freedom to leave our students and run off to the restroom. I arrived extra early today and stayed very late to organize, clean up, and catch up (because I’m already behind) and even then, I did not stop to take care of a most basic need. Hydration.

They say water is vital to brain function. No wonder I feel brain-dead tonight.

And that's the way it is...

Although it's annoying to hear again and again when you're feeling poorly about things, "there's a reason for everything" seems to be the only way to feel better. How interesting to discover personally that the current housing crisis has created a domino effect. If you have a home to sell, and you want to buy, you're at the mercy of frustrated realtors and insecure buyers. Even though you may have everything lined up, you may be stuck at an impasse if others' don't have their affairs in order.

So the deal is off. I feel for the couple who looked at my place with dreamy eyes. I feel bad for us, because we're back to square one.

See Me Go Up and Down

I own a house. I wanted a new house. I put my house up for sale.
I cleaned, dusted, fixed, painted, patched, and repaired.
I swept and vacuumed.
I waited.
People came, looked, and left.
I waited.
I cleaned, dusted, fixed, painted, patched, and repaired some more.
I swept and vacuumed.
People came, looked, and left.
I waited.
One couple came, looked, and liked.
One couple made an offer.
I countered, they offered again. I countered, they offered again.
We agreed.
We went looking. And looking. And looking.
We saw one, we loved it, we made an offer.
He countered, we offered, he countered, we offered again.
We agreed.
They signed, we signed, he signed, we signed again.
We signed, and signed, and signed.
The banker said yes.
We felt happy. We were excited. We smiled. We packed.

The phone rang. The lawyer had bad news.
"They cannot buy your home because they are not qua-li-fied."
They are first-time buyers. They have no money."
Oh, no! Its true!
I can buy, but I can't sell!

Conversations Make Better Americans

While school was still in session, a few colleagues and I would talk about our favorite candidates and how they were doing in the primaries. I’m glad I had them to talk with about these current events; most other folks at work, I was disappointed to find, don’t follow the news, or have the attitude of “they’re all crooks anyway” and use this as an excuse to not pay attention.

I recognize that many people do not wish to discuss politics as these conversations have the potential to evolve in to disagreements. I understand that some folks do not fully understand the process by which we elect our leaders and therefore choose not to participate in these discussions. I struggle to process why some folks are not interested in global events, but I’m also aware there are individuals that are so entrenched in their own beliefs that a conversation with them is just not possible.

For me, it was a relief to find that some people were open to these kinds of conversations, especially about the upcoming elections. Through my conversations with a few people at school, I shared in both the disappointments and excitement of Obama’s quest for the nomination, and looked at McCain with more of an open mind. Some expressed what Obama’s candidacy means to them, as older Americans, as African-Americans, as Hispanic Americans. Another colleague brought up points such as experience and patriotism, and while we tended to disagree, I appreciated him for the respectful way in which he expressed his opinions.

Why don’t we have more of these conversations? As a teacher, it’s my obligation to know what is happening around me. Especially now, during this important election, my students will ask questions, and I ought to be able to give them an answer, or admit that I don’t know, and show them how an educated person seeks more information. As a lifelong learner, I want to understand how things work, and why people think and feel as they do. I want to know how it used to be, and I want to explore how it might be some day.

As an American, it is my duty and to my advantage that I participate. I’ve been energized, disappointed, enlightened, and encouraged by what other folks have to say. More than anything, I’ve become more informed, and will hopefully make the right decision when asked to vote in November.

Until then, I’m reading, watching, and paying attention. And if I see you, I may want to talk about “things” – you know, Obama, McCain, the war in Iraq, gas prices, No Child Left Behind, immigration. If you don’t want to talk, I understand. If you’re willing, however, to “go there”, I assure you – this is what being American is.

Excellence Required

Years ago, when I was an undergraduate, my roommate and I were talking about what we would do when we finished school. I recall being somewhat disappointed in her, when she said "I'll have kids, then I'll maybe try teaching. That's easy enough. Go in at eight, leave at three. Read, write, do some math. I mean, how hard can it be?"

I was rather reserved back then, and didn't tell her how I felt. If I had the chance now, I'd tell her that because of attitudes like hers, many elementary school-aged children are being cheated.

The National Council on Teacher Quality has released a study stating that Teachers Are Not Properly Prepared to Teach Math. They also point out that teacher-ed programs are not being discriminating enough when accepting participants. Anyone who wants to teach can enter a program, consequently shaping the success of hundreds of students.

Too many college students look at teaching as the easy alternative, as something to fall back on, as the least energy-consuming job. They breeze through teacher-ed programs, creating the required thematic units, writing the customary papers on "their philosophy of teaching", and taking the easiest courses to "prepare" them to teach math, science, writing, and reading.

Many folks I know are guided by the scripts in the teacher's manual. (My brother once said they were "married" to the teacher's guides.) Especially where math is concerned, few people delve into, or care to understand more deeply what they are expected to teach. I know colleagues who skip over decimals, or measurement, or probability. Furthermore, a consequence of No Child Left Behind has been a growing number of desperate teachers plowing through curriculum at such a fast rate that students are denied adequate time to master skills and concepts.

Teaching is a science and a calling. We must return this profession to a pedestal, encourage the best effort, and require excellence. When studies such as the NCTQ's come out, I cringe because I know who and what they're referring to. Some folks are in the wrong place, doing it the wrong way, and doing it for the wrong reasons.

Let's spread the word about this profession. It is not easy. You are required to think, a lot. You should know why multiplication is magical. You have to know what is going on in the rest of the country, and around the world. You need to read. You must hold yourself and your students to the highest expectations.

Sometimes they let you down

Yesterday, as soon as I got to work, I received a call from the main office, asking me to prepare work for one of my students. The boy was being held there because he had brought certain items to school. I collected my class from the playground, where they immediately started to tell me that their classmate had worn a black ski mask on the bus, and was pointing a play gun at teachers and kids as they pulled up to the school.

I put together a packet of left-over writing and math sheets, took my kids to art, then walked over to the office to hand the work to the VP. She showed me a photo of the "items" (a photo they were required to take) which included a ski mask with cut-outs for eyes and mouth, black gloves, and a gun that was so real-looking my heart just dropped. (Note: the photo you see to the right is an image I found on Google, not my student.)

They were waiting on the police, the superintendent, the parents, and some sort of juvenile detective. I did not see the boy all day, and later found out that, after the meeting with the parents, the mother signed him out. (So much for in-school suspension.) I also heard that the dad said this was nothing more than "a kid thing."

There's much more to this, I assure you. It has been a tough year for this boy - a refusal to do any work, lack of interest, unsupportive and neglectful parents, discipline issues, and a very low self-image. I referred him to the Child Study Team, and all he got was some tutoring. This boy is lost, and I thought I had done my best to find him.

What if, he had pointed that "toy" and a cop had mistaken it for a real weapon?

There are just two more days of school left. The VP told me he would be back to school on Monday. I don't know how I feel about that. Should he be allowed to be with me and the other kids? Should there be more of a consequence? Is this a big deal or not?

On starting over, adjusting, and keeping on...

After reading a farewell from The Angry Educator I considered that I too, might have to be careful what I say. Angry deleted one very cool blog because of the possibility of folks misreading, misunderstanding, mishandling what had been written. Lucky for us, Angry has found another spot, and will hopefully continue to write the same kind of honest, thought-provoking stuff that attracted many of us in the first place.

So, I started changing my blog around. I removed my picture, put it back, removed it, put it back. I reworded things here and there, and changed the look of the blog. I definitely don't want to delete my work, as Angry felt inclined to do. I couldn't bear it.

I want to be able to say and write as I please, think the way I think. Although this blog was to be a place for my personal explorations of bilingualism, creative writing, and being Latina, I have also shared some thoughts on teaching. Whether I'm wrong or "write", what a shame it would be to stop expressing myself as I've been doing. I am sure I will cross the line of "acceptable" and "safe" on occasion, but isn't that what we urge our students to do? And if by chance, I'm discovered by the "wrong" person, I'll learn how to handle it.

So, this blog is looking different. I thought I needed to be a mystery, just in case. After giving it some more thought, I just want to be. I am a Latina teacher-writer. And that picture? That's ME.

Four more days

I am totally inundated. I still have 4th marking period assessments to correct, data sheets to complete, recommendations to write up, standardized test scores to examine and save to a spreadsheet, and cumulative folders to check and sign off on. All of this has to be done by Friday.

Report cards are due to the office on Friday as well.

Not fair. Two of my preps have already been taken from me this week! One was this morning, when I had to meet with the Child Study Team regarding one of my students. My grade level team had to meet yesterday morning with the principal to discuss the STATE TEST SCORES, which left us all somewhat stressed out. And tomorrow, during my prep, a representative from the new science program will be at school to give us a walk-through of the new materials.

For those who don't work in schools, a "prep" is a daily work period, allocated by contract to a teacher. The prep is used for lesson planning, marking papers, making copies, contacting and meeting with parents, record-keeping, grade-level articulation, and acquiring materials for class. You get to use the ladies room too!

Of course, this daily period (in my case, 45 minutes) is neither enough nor realistic. I end up working through my lunch, and bringing home a very, heavy bag, filled with paperwork. It's my life as a teacher. This 15-minute "break" I just spent posting tonight is my small "me-time" and a way of letting folks out there know that, for many of us, the last days of school are very trying. And the days that come after, are very well-deserved.

Back to work I go - caramba!

Real Teachers Don't Wear Medals

While catching up on the news in education, I came across this article in The News & Observer out of North Carolina.

Students do better if their teachers have certification
“A report from the National Research Council found that students taught by teachers who received national board certification make greater gains on tests than students taught by teachers without such certification.”

While I honor and respect teachers who are genuine in the pursuit of such certification, I disagree with the generalization that these are the better teachers.

When National Board Certification was first introduced in my district several years ago, many folks jumped at the opportunity to get another “title” and another stipend. Once folks got a grasp of the work that was involved though, many dropped out of the game, leaving a small group to forge ahead in the “quest” to be a better practitioner. These individuals, I am sure, were motivated by several things – the stipend, the title, the glory, and perhaps a sincere desire to become a better teacher. I don’t know. What I saw was more of a false notion that being National Board Certified would bring you the respect that you did not already have.

I admit I almost joined them. My brother, also a teacher at the time, set my head straight as we talked about the pros and cons of this program. We both decided against it. I was also discouraged by the estimated $2500 it would cost in registration, materials, fees, and testing, not to mention the time it would potentially take me away from the classroom.

I was struck by the immediate super-stardom that these individuals enjoyed. They were coddled, and treated with such consideration. Their schedules were adjusted so that they might have opportunities to “get the work done”. They had to video-tape themselves in action, so we manipulated classroom settings and student groups so the videos would come out just right.

Personally, I became disgusted at the whole thing as I watched folks put on very impressive shows. They were talking as if they had been “enlightened”. They were rushing around, getting everyone involved in the frenzied effort to complete all the specific, detailed pieces of their submissions. Many of us were asked to write recommendations on behalf of them. Personally, knowing what I knew, I had a lump in my throat as I wrote two of these letters of support.

What a scam. Now, of the individuals I still come into contact with, I can only say that maybe one is a master of the fine art of teaching. The others are either faking it or doing nothing at all. They are less than mediocre. I give myself permission to say so, because I firmly believe in this profession and the urgency for teachers to be effective.

Actually, my students have made even greater gains, regardless of my not having National Board Certification. I have not worked the system, I have not sat on my ass, and I have not put on an act. I have worked very, very hard for my kids. I’ve held high expectations. I’ve been tough, but I’ve also been the person my kids could depend on. I have been present and I have been real.

As far as I’m concerned, in many cases, this extra certification is nothing more than a medal that you don’t really earn. You have to buy it. And from where I’m standing, it doesn’t mean a damn thing.

Who will fix this?

The mother of one of my students is on my mind tonight. Last time I saw her was in April for Parent/Teacher conferences. She sat quietly as I told her how awesome her daughter was and that she should be proud of such an excellent and hard-working student. This young lady will go very far, I am sure of it.

I noticed the mother was holding herself, arms crossed, covering her chest. She seemed in pain. I asked if she was all right, and she told me she had been to two mammograms to check on several "bumps" that had appeared on her breasts in the last two years. I asked her to keep me posted. She called me four weeks ago, happy to tell me the latest films indicated everything was OK.

This past week, my student "K" confided to me that something was happening with her mother and if I would talk with her. Something weird had happened with "the results", some kind of mistake, and that her mother was in more pain. So I got in touch with the mother today, and found out she has been mislead, misinformed, and mistreated by whoever is dealing with her case. The doctor who has been seeing her for the past two years would check her, examine the bumps, and tell her to come back in four months. Recently, this MD ordered a mammogram, and then another accompanied by ultrasound (obviously seeing there was possible cause for concern.) She has also had a few needle biopsies. After supposedly analyzing the results, he informed the patient that there was no cause for alarm. He never gave her a diagnosis, just said not to worry.

However, this week, she received a call from the MD's office, and was told the films had been mixed up and that she had been given the wrong results! She has been advised to reschedule another appointment and will have to undergo more tests. And now, she is in even more pain, more of these bumps have appeared, and she is beside herself with worry.

I am angry about what appears to me to be carelessness on the part of the professionals in this case. Am I assuming too much when I consider that possibly, she is not receiving aggressive assistance because she speaks only a little English? Is it because she is a resident (legal) and not yet a U.S. citizen? Is it because she is perceived as poor or low income? The woman has health insurance through her spouse so that ought not to be the problem. Is someone afraid of the cost of helping this woman?

When I had my scare eight years ago, I was checked, referred, mammo'd, biopsied, and underwent surgery in a matter of a month. A few months later I was doing radiation and that was that. I am still here because I was taken care of swiftly. I am lucky to be a teacher, with a steady income, and very good medical insurance. Unfortunately, this is not the case for everyone.

If things go poorly, it will be my student who will pay dearly for this situation - not the doctor, and not the insurance company. What happens now? Do I stay out of it? Do I try to guide the mother in the right direction? Or do I just listen and support?

Cada mes lo mismo

A sudden jab, a stab, an ache
definitely not her appendix.
But it hurts on that side, again.
She’s not paying much attention
as she slowly spirals
into melancholy and memories
triggered by sappy old songs and
intense feelings about missing out
and never again feeling “that feeling”.
Mirror madness -
disgusted with her body, face, hair.
Kitchen hatred -
the persistent coffee stain on the counter top,
the seven layers of white paint on cabinets,
the spots in the stainless steel sink.
Pathetic – her house cleaning.
Another twist, a pang,
incessant questions and neediness
from her child.
Spanish curse words under her breath.
She tries not to scold, yell, or show she’s nasty today.
She swallows two pills, washing them down with coffee,
they work faster like that,
shuts her eyes and listens...
to every possible song to further make her feel depressed.
She’s getting worse.
Moaning, whimpering, biting her bottom lip.
“I’m just hungry” she says.
She wants something,
really needs something.
“Like a burger?” (He thinks he knows.)
No, he doesn't even know, doesn't get it.
“Just take me out – now – before I freak,” she pleads.
Fifteen minute drive, fresh air, salvation
and a chocolate ice cream cone.
Yes. That was it.
In the morning, a faint pinkish stain,
that was why.