My Open Resignation Letter

For the third time in my combined total of merely 4 ½ years of teaching, I have resigned.  I’m sure this doesn’t come as a shock to many considering I had decided to take the year off to stay home with Owen, and this past year hasn’t exactly turned out quite the way I planned.  The “plan” was for my mom to move here to Tucson sometime during my year off, and then she would be Owen’s caregiver when I returned to teaching.  Instead, I found myself dealing with a bizarre medical mystery which required us to fly her out here last minute to help out with Owen while I attended numerous (and I mean NUMEROUS) different appointments and tests.  We thought she might be here a few weeks, but instead my condition kept her out here for over three months.  Throughout those three months, she was working with a realtor and ended up putting offers on three different condos adjacent to our neighborhood.  Her offer for the third condo was actually accepted.  At that point it was decided that my 89-year old grandmother would make the move out here to live with her, since the two of them have been living together in Kansas for about 10 years.  Well, long story short (or at least less long), my grandma ended up having a heart attack, Mom put a stop-payment on her earnest money check for the condo, she rushed back to Kansas on yet another ridiculously expensive last-minute flight, and has been there ever since.  My grandma went straight from her hospital stay into an assisted-living facility there in Wichita.  She has been continually fighting a bad infection off and on which quarantines her to her room, so needless to say it has been a very rough transition.  Of course my mom feels obligated to be with her in Kansas right now, so any plans for her to move to Tucson have been indefinitely put on hold.  

Whew!  My intention for this blog post truly wasn’t to be about my personal situation, but rather how I felt about the job I left.  Well, it’s time I lay it all out there.  Here’s how I really and truly felt:  I loved it.  I loved the students, their families, the staff and my principal.  I loved my classroom that I had worked so hard to set up just perfectly.  I loved the school community, which truly felt like one big family with all of us “in it together.”  Many of the staff members have become my close friends.  They’re people that Justin and I enjoy socializing with, and even consider them our families away from home.  I loved teaching first grade, and had the amazing opportunity to be pregnant at the same time as my grade-level colleague.  That same colleague is someone I consider one of my best friends here in Tucson, and I truly adore her whole family.  Working with her was like working with a sister.  She made the silliest little things about work so much fun.  If there is one thing I miss the most about each day, it’s sharing lunches with her.  Speaking of lunches, I loved my 40 minute lunch!  I had never had that amount of time to eat before in my teaching career.  Honestly, I loved my whole daily schedule!  I loved the resources available to me, including the classroom technology, curriculum materials, supplies and especially the resources provided by other school professionals.  I know it seems like I’ve done a little “bait and switch” by saying I’m going to put it all out there only to gush on how much I loved my job, but I do have an angle.  Believe it or not, this post was not intended to be about me.

Whenever I’d explain to my out-of-state family and friends that I worked in a renowned school district here in Tucson, no one could really understand how it made sense.  That district has an overall low socioeconomic population of students, and most can understand the challenges that come along with that.  Yet, this district has extremely high standards for its students as well as its educators, and overall they are very successful in achieving those high standards.  This comes from a cohesiveness across the district in the way their teachers teach and the type of expectations they set for all students.  Whether in a preschool classroom or high school chemistry, a principal or district administrator can walk in and expect to see the same kind of teaching taking place.  The content may be different, but the “Essential Elements of Instruction” are the same.  This is what makes the Flowing Wells School District here in Tucson so successful.  I know my educator friends from across the country are all familiar with the “Teacher Bible” which is the required reading for all education undergraduates and first-year teachers: Harry Wong’s The First Days of School.  Well, as a testament to Flowing Wells awesomeness, I can tell you that it is acknowledged in that book 4 different times.  Trust me, I know.  As a perpetual “first year” teacher, I now own four copies.  

Tucson is home to the University of Arizona.  While I didn’t attend U of A, I’ve gotten the impression that Flowing Wells is THE school district in Tucson where all education majors hope to teach once they graduate.  One of my friends who teaches in a different school district said, “Flowing Wells is hard to get into, but once you’re in, you’re IN!”  Well, I managed to get “in.”  I truly lucked out when after only 6 days of subbing for the district, Homer Davis Elementary needed to hire a first grade teacher in the middle of the school year.  Little did I know when I accepted the position, though, all that would be required of me.  I thought the district job application, the interview process and the requirements for my Arizona teaching license were grueling enough!  I wasn’t aware that I’d have to take a crash course on their Essential Elements of Instruction only to be assigned a mentor and district coach who, in addition to the school principal, would be observing my teaching to make sure I was putting all that EEI into place.  The thing with Flowing Wells is they don’t care whether you’ve had zero years of teaching experience or 100 years of teaching experience, they have the exact same requirements for all of their new teachers no matter what.  To give an idea of just how serious they are about it, I had just ONE final EEI day left after attending all of the others, and that just so happened to be the day I went into labor.  I was dressed and ready to go, even though my water had broken.  I was actually calling the EEI instructor asking what time I’d need to be there for the final test, and then asking the nurse at the hospital if I could make it there by 11 a.m.  I had asked weeks earlier if I could take the test in advance “just in case” I ended up having the baby before then, but I was told, “Oh don’t worry!  If you can’t make it that day, you’ll just make it up next year.”  Even as I was on the phone saying my water may have broken, I was told again, “If you can’t make it by 11 a.m., you can make it up next year!”  

Yes, my going-into-labor story makes Flowing Wells “Essential Elements of Instruction” program sound a little bit ridiculous, but it’s “ridiculousness” is also what makes it effective.  You’ve got to understand that this is actually really hard for me to admit as a perpetual first-year teacher.  I mean, I’m really really REALLY sick of being a perpetual “first year” teacher!  However, even so I still cannot deny how great it is that every staff member across the school district from preschool to high school shares the same set of expectations.  That’s pretty awesome.  The EEI teaching methods are good, too.  I mean...really and truly effective.  I feel like every one of Flowing Wells teachers could hop into some other school district and wow everyone with the way they teach.  These teachers are not only amazing at what they do, but they work incredibly hard.  They are 110% devoted to their jobs.  Not only are they fully committed to every aspect of effective teaching, but they do everything that it takes to help improve their students’ personal lives, many of which could use some major improvements.  This was the third school that I taught at, in a third state, that sent home Friday food bags for kids who may potentially go hungry over the weekends.  Hunger is just one of the many needs for this student population.  Given our proximity to the border, students would leave unexpectedly, and often it was suspected that they were deported.  This is very challenging for teachers who invest so much of their energy, not to mention their heart and souls, into students who often disappear with no warning.  I lost 13 students from my original class list last year.  Thirteen.  Yet, I was held accountable for students’ test scores who were only in my classroom for a brief portion of the school year.  

I don’t need to dwell on all the obvious details to describe how hard these Flowing Wells teachers have to work.  I think the important thing to dwell on is that they WANT to work hard for their students.  They know that those hours of the school day are most likely the best hours of those kids’ lives, and they do whatever it takes to make the most of that time.  These teachers know that by setting high expectations for their students, they are providing them a legitimate chance at success in life.  A chance that may seem very slim based on their upbringing.  Somehow in the midst of all this hard work, though, this school manages to have FUN!  School assemblies, spirit weeks, holidays, Love of Reading Week, evening activities...they’re all truly a joy to behold!  There is nothing “obligatory” about these special events; everyone gets so into them!  I had a you’re-not-in-Kansas-anymore moment when I first attended Water Play Day.  Picture the entire school’s worth of students outside in their swimsuits hitting beach balls over volleyball nets, sliding across a slippy-slide made from a giant tarp, running around in the sprinklers...palm trees and sunshine overhead.  Yes, that may be only one day out of the entire school year, but the spirit of it remains throughout.

I suspect at this point people are wondering how this school is truly different from the others where I taught in Kansas and Washington.  Well, the truth is it’s actually very similar.  Being a teacher in those schools was a lot like being a teacher for Flowing Wells, except in Flowing Wells I had to work even harder...only to get paid substantially less.  Yup, there’s the big juicy angle you all have been waiting for.  It’s no secret that teachers don’t make much money, but  teachers here REALLY don’t make much!  Arizona is one of the lower-paying states, Tucson is one of the lower-paying cities, and Flowing Wells is the lowest-paying public school district in Tucson.  That’s the part which no one could really understand it when I told them I worked for a renowned school district.  How could a school district be “renowned” if it pays the lowest?  Well, remember what I said about U of A grads all coveting a job at Flowing Wells?  Teachers are willing to get paid less if that means they’ll be in a better work environment.  I can tell you that the massive Tucson Unified School District does not have the best reputation for “job satisfaction,” but Flowing Wells most certainly does.  

I’m not an Arizona legislator whose job it is to allocate funds to education, so I certainly don’t have the knowledge or experience to throw around criticism.  I can, however, tell you something in the system isn’t right when the hardest, most dedicated teachers are getting paid the least in order to have the “best” jobs.  I cannot commend Flowing Wells employees enough for doing all that they do despite getting paid what they do.  This isn’t meant to be a personal complaint of mine.  I realize I am extremely fortunate to be in a position to where I can extend my time as a stay-at-home mom.  Even though it would be hard for us to justify paying full-time childcare for me to return to work, I still tell my friends I feel like I “gave up gold” by resigning from this teaching position.  The riches of the teaching profession are many, even if they’re not monetary.

Keep doing your thing, Dragons.  I hope to be back someday.  In the meantime, though, you can still expect to see my face around Homer Davis from time to time :-)

My Medical Mystery

Alternate titles for this post include: “Where I’ve been for the last four months” and “Why I never accepted any ice bucket challenge nominations.” (That gives you an idea of just how long this has been going on.) I normally consider myself a bit of a Facebook-oversharer, but that hasn’t been the case over these last four months.  Although I suppose I could regain that title after sharing this very post.

After suffering through several unusual symptoms, seeing numerous specialists and having endless tests, I have yet to receive a definitive diagnosis. I’ve had severe pain in my upper back/neck/shoulders/arms, numbness in my extremities, shortness of breath and substantial weight loss, despite having a very healthy appetite. I had to switch my primary care provider after not being taken seriously by my first one, and thankfully now I have a wonderful doctor who is treating me with great care and concern, although there’s only so much a primary care doctor can do. I have seen a pulmonologist, cardiologist, gastroenterologist, an endocrinologist, a neurologist, two neurosurgeons and have future appointments with an additional specialized neurosurgeon, an orthopedic spine doctor, a pain specialist and a rheumatologist. I’ve been to the ER twice, had two CT scans on my lungs, a spinal x-ray, an abdominal ultrasound, a pelvic ultrasound, a cardiac stress test, two EKG’s, two breathing tests, a HIDA scan on my gallbladder, an endoscopy and an MRI on my spine, an MRI on my brain and a third one for my spine will be scheduled soon. My blood has been drawn enough to feed a family of vampires, testing my thyroid (numerous times), valley fever (twice), TB, RA, lupus, several CBC’s, a CRP, lyme disease, Celiac’s disease, pituitary function, numerous more I’m forgetting…all normal.

While my doctor feels those results should rule out anything “scary” like cancer, it’s difficult to feel any sense of reassurance when I continue to feel pain each day. The one finding that has come from these numerous tests is that I have a thin syrinx in my cervical spine, which is the term for a spinal cyst. I was told for weeks that the syrinx is too thin to be causing my symptoms, but then recently I was told that my pain is the textbook description for syringomyelia (the condition of having a syrinx.) I’ve spent hours upon hours Googling this condition and I can tell you with little doubt that it’s the exact kind of pain I’m experiencing. It was also recently discovered that I have scoliosis, which is associated with syringomyelia. Doctors insist that I must have always had the scoliosis but we never noticed it until now. However, Justin, my mom and I all feel like it’s something we would have definitely noticed since the right side of my back is raised so much higher than my left when I bend over. Because of this, I was going to physical therapy two times per week, but it has done little to help my pain. It’s extremely frustrating that doctors act as if the syrinx is just an incidental finding, and therefore nothing to be concerned about. One quick Google search for “syrinx” or “syringomyelia” will tell you that there’s nothing incidental about it.

I even traveled to Mayo Clinic to meet with one of their doctors, but he was of no help to me. After making the appointment, gathering all my medical records and tests, and making the two-hour trip to Scottsdale, I couldn’t have been more disappointed to have a supposed “top-of-the-line” doctor tell me the pain is in my head. On one hand I cannot blame him for jumping to that conclusion when he reads through my paperwork and sees that I just had a baby 8 months ago and also recently lost my alcoholic father. I’m sure my breakdown right there in his office just further confirmed his diagnosis. My breakdown, however, was due to the fact that I’ve been through the scariest experience of my life over the past several months, feeling absolutely helpless dealing with our challenging healthcare system, and spending each day worried that I’m not going to be around for my baby boy. I could tell immediately that this doctor had me pegged before I even opened my mouth, and all I could think was, “You’re not going to help me, are you?”

There is no way I can cram into one blog post what I’ve been through over the past four months. I’ve spent each day in miserable pain, desperate for an answer. These many tests and specialists have not been easy to come by. Once my doctor provides me with a referral, I usually call 4-5 different doctors in each specialty and make numerous appointments before I can find one who can get me in without having to wait several months. My intention in sharing this is not to have people feel sorry for me, but rather just to “get it all out there” so I can stop feeling like I’m harboring a big secret while I’m mostly holed up at home.

We have been extremely fortunate to have my mom here in town over these last few months helping with Owen as well as with anything and everything else so I can try to take care of myself and attend these numerous appointments. I am also very blessed to have an incredibly loving and endlessly supportive husband who has been by my side through all of this and has even taken time away from work to attend appointments with me. If there is one positive to come from this awful experience, it’s that I never want to take anything for granted ever again, especially good health. I now have so much empathy for people who suffer with chronic pain. You feel like you have to convince everyone that what you’re going through is real since you look fine on the outside, or just do your best to hide your suffering and pretend like everything is okay. It’s a miserable way to live life, and yet it also provides one with a clarity and perspective that can only be found in times of suffering.

I have yet to catch a glimpse of that light at the end of the tunnel, but one thing is for sure I am not willing to give up. I have a beautiful baby boy who deserves a healthy, happy mama. So far I’ve been told that pain management is my only option, and nerve pain is one of the hardest kinds of pain to treat. After being prescribed numerous medications and discovering that they offer little to no relief, I am just not willing to accept that as the final answer at this point. Although I am beyond sick of attending appointments and frustrated that this has become my full-time job, what else can I do when I’m living in continual pain?

According to what I’ve read online, syringomyelia occurs in only 8 out of every 100,000 people, so as you can imagine it’s very difficult to find a doctor who specializes in this condition. Fortunately, Phoenix has the Barrow Institute which is a world-renowned neurological center. I have an appointment scheduled with one of their neurosurgeons who specializes in syringomyelia. I’ve been told by two other neurosurgeons that my syrinx is inoperable because it’s too thin, but there is a possibility it may have expanded since my last MRI as I’m experiencing increasing pain and stiffness.  As much as I don't want it to expand for fear that my pain will turn to paralysis, I also don't want to just accept that I have no choice but to live in pain.

The syrinx doesn’t necessarily explain my shortness of breath, although the doctor thinks my breathing is somehow restricted due to the pain, and it certainly doesn’t explain why I’ve lost so much weight. Therefore, despite having one diagnosis that doctors can’t seem to agree on, I still feel like I’m living in the limbo of a medical mystery. Prayers are much appreciated, and please…never take your health for granted!

Romans 8:18 For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.

Grief Feels Good

I lost my dad today, and it hurts. The pain is what one would expect to feel when losing a parent, and that’s why it feels so good. Those who are closest to me and my brother know our dad struggled as a life-long alcoholic. Our whole lives we had prepared for the fact that we’d most likely lose our dad at a relatively young age. There were many many times we thought we were going to lose him due to incidences directly related to his alcoholism. At those times, we felt sadness and pain somewhat similar to what we feel now, but at those times our sadness and pain was also fueled by a sense bitterness and resentment. At this time though, there no bitterness, no resentment, no regret…just love. Dad had a major relapse almost two years ago, just as Justin and I were making our move from Washington to Arizona. We were very lucky not to lose him then, but his health had been in a steady decline ever since. He had suffered liver failure, which was mostly under control with the help of medication, but other health issues arose over the past year and a half that his body was no longer equipped to handle. He had a loving girlfriend who cared for him for well over a year, allowing him the best possible quality of life that he could have before ultimately needing hospitalization followed by the last month or so of his life spent in a care home. For almost two years, we haven’t had to live each day wondering, “Is Dad drinking again?” Though we were constantly concerned about his health, it was such a relief to not have this thought running through our minds at all times. This past year and a half allowed us the opportunity to think less about Dad the Alcoholic, and more about him as just Dad. Other times when we thought we’d lose our dad, we ached with anger for the choices he had made and the fact that, yet again, he let his disease get the best of him. Now, it is a true luxury not to have those feelings. That’s why the grief feels so good, because we just miss our dad. The man who picked me up from school every Tuesday in kindergarten and took me to McDonald’s for a Happy Meal. The man who loved taking us to the park to feed the ducks, from the time we were little kids to even more recent times as adults. The man who had a resounding sense of humor with a laugh that could be heard above all others in a movie theater. The man who was scared to death when he first took me out for a driving lesson, yet he didn’t blink an eye the first time he flew with his son piloting an airplane. The man who had the greatest time of his life when he made trips to Washington to visit his kids, and believed his son’s apartment near the Space Needle came straight out of “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.” The man who was immensely proud of his kids, and viewed us as the greatest of his life’s accomplishments. Our dad was far from perfect. We were always “cautiously close” with him, keeping a safe distance which allowed us to maintain a good relationship without ever letting his life choices get the best of our own well-being. I think Dad understood that, and truly respected us for the way we chose to live our lives. Living so far away may not have allowed us a large quantity of time, but every moment we spent together was certainly quality time. Those times were always filled with numerous “I love you’s” and “I am just so proud of you guys!” For anyone who has ever questioned how Drew and I managed to become the people we are despite having an alcoholic father, it’s because of love. Losing a parent is never easy. It’s hard. It hurts. And for that pain, I am very grateful. Because that means there was love.