Just One of the Girls (5)

Each phase of life contains defining moments. These moments can be personal or public, either give significance to our circumstance and growth. In our personal lives, we phase through childhood and adolescence with ourselves as the center of our world. That myopic view can carry us through our early adult years, however, a moment comes when it hits you that spouses, children, greater family, and friends are the true focal point in our existence. That is not to say that our need for attention fades completely, it just becomes less intense. The bridge we cross from our inward driven personas to more altruistic views spans a wide river of life experiences. However, with today’s “Instant Society” mentality there are fewer places where longevity plays a role.  Curiously, in the field of education the label of “long time employee”, as it were, still holds traction. In fact, in the field of education, it’s a goal to be at your job for thirty years. Thus, in the trekking of school years, one is hopefully blessed with people to bond and create defining moments. With luck and some help from friends or family, maybe a little faith, your selfish manner of existence finds an outward focus.

With that in mind, I recall in my earlier years at my school (when I was just beginning to break into the “Girls Club”) a moment that was a small step forward to gaining points with what has become my support group at work.

Our school year had started and our principal wanted to give us tools to work with students with difficult behaviors. She decided that a video about the “Horse Whisperer” would do the trick. (Now, forgive me because this story should be for spoken word but I hope the humor comes through) The video began innocently enough with introductions of the expert and his work but quickly turned into the love of the horses, etc. I, not being that grand on being subtle, couldn’t take much more after about 20 minutes of this fiasco. I, as I always did in school and to this day, sat in the back with friends making snide remarks when it happened. It just came to me and I let out this very low whinny, (insert sound here) almost a whisper. Of course, a few around us heard and began to laugh quietly. And, of course, I couldn’t resist but to let out another whinny, only louder. I fact, it was so loud the entire staff heard and set off a collective holding of breath and gritting of teeth. My closest friends and I were in tears and could see the principal, OUR BOSS, looking around as each of us teachers would at students misbehaving. I honestly can’t remember what the Boss said next but the video was turned off and the staff meeting ended in haste. I do remember the second my friends and I cleared the building that we continued our hysterical laughter and I was congratulated for the accomplishment of getting us out of the meeting. I also remember telling my wife what a hero I was only to be reminded I was still on a temporary contract and to keep my mouth shut for at least another year to reach my permanent status. I suppose that was sound advice.

I trace back the bridge I’m crossing and realize these moments have brought me to a sobering truth. Although I’ve reveled in sophomoric actions from time to time to paint my self-portrait in bold color schemes, the muted tones of inclusion of a group dynamic are where I thrive. Playing the clown, covering for a colleague or just being an honest friend enable us to build relationships you might not realize matter so much at the time. But, in the end, take that childhood “me” centered world and bring you defining moments that carry you for a lifetime. Peace.

Just One of the Girls (4)

Original Post 08/04/09 from blog www.brotherhoodof90minutes.blogspot.com

Just to confirm my status of “Just One of the Girls”, let me go over my morning. I’ve dropped off my three children at their respective summer camps, (two hour window now until first pick-up), went to the mall, ran into two of my wife’s girlfriends (mutual friends of mine as well)-one at Target and one at Starbucks- and sent a text to one of my colleagues about a sale at Macy’s on men’s clothes for her husband. Now, I am really trying to think back over the last 10-13 years and asking myself was it always this way? I’ll admit that I’ve always enjoyed shopping. It’s probably a reason I seemed to have a fairly good track record with girlfriends. (a looooong time ago) But, I also had the thought, driving around, that football season couldn’t come fast enough. Although, I quickly realized that anyone that truly knows me would just argue it wouldn’t make a difference. The final answer came to me as I drove into my garage and saw a neighbor in his garage. He was setting out tools and looking as if he was ready for a good day of yard work or some other handy work around the house. To me that looked a foreign as well, a male K-2 grade teacher!! I guess I am just where I’ve been mean to be placed. OK, off to more rounds of summer camp pick-ups and laundry. Peace.

Just One of the Girls (3)

A response, the definition for response is: a verbal or written answer, so what happens when a “response” is inappropriate or uncomfortable? Add to that moment that you are one of only three males at a workplace. (That workplace being the school where I teach second grade) Now, I’ve never been a shy person or quiet about feelings. I can tease and be teased and have learned to keep a relatively even keel through the process. (In my younger days I couldn’t I'll be honest here) Thus, if you’d ask people their ideas about how a school’s staff acts, you’d get lots of answers like ordinary, calm or collected. Well, my school has never been ordinary in any manner of the word.
When I was hired, it was by the school’s former principal. She remembered my student teaching and contacted me for the position. The current principal, at the time, was out of town. I’ve mentioned my principal’s (boss) first words to me before in another post. She asked if I was married and gave me the rules for the restroom. (See Just One of the Girls 1) Well, she had an incredible knack of making statements that would catch you grasping for a response. Two of my closer friends/colleagues were pregnant and their due dates were fairly close. They were both on the same grade level team and naturally spent a great deal of time together. One morning, I ran across the two during a break and they were in hysterics. I naturally wanted to know the root of this lightheartedness and asked what was happening. After a few tries of explaining through the laughter and tears, apparently our leader (principal) had just come across the pair a few moments earlier. She was asking about their pregnancies, all the usual questions, and laid upon them a phrase that lives until this very day. Her comment? Well, upon hearing of my colleagues physical feelings, baby room plans and finally due dates uttered her famous words, “Well, with both your hips and being big strapping girls, you’ll do fine in delivery.” Seriously?, was my first question but I knew of our principal’s ability to make such statements. Consequently, when matters such a diets, clothing sizes or any size issues arise my two friends always refer to the phrase-“Well being the big strapping girls we are . . .” and complete whatever thought is needed to complete. I cherish these inside jokes and moments of craziness. Each adds to the tapestry of relationships with the people I work with each day. Every incident brings us closer and creates a bond that I would never want broken. I’m not sure that happens in male dominated work places. It probably does, I just haven’t had that experience in an office or workplace. I have found that bond in athletics and in my coaching of sports over the years, so who knows. Peace.

Just One of the Girls (2)

A pregnancy is always a celebration around an elementary school’s staff. However, 12 pregnancies at one school site are insane. Of course, there are cycles when a school site might have two, three, or four a school year, but 12, seriously strange. Well, that occurrence has happened at my school. I’ve been to many a baby shower over my career as a teacher but I will admit that my attendance at these events has declined over time. Once, I did jump out of a “cake” (a huge decorated box that is) for a colleague’s wedding shower given by the rest of the staff. I digress, as each announcement of another baby on the way this year was made; it brought me back to a key moment of my transformation into “Just One of the Girls”.

My wife, Sue, was roughly two months pregnant. Right along the same time as a fellow teacher at my school that shared my same lunch period. (Any teacher knows “lunch hour” is an oxymoron, thus lunch period) She was telling the group of one of her doctor’s visits. Sue and I had decided not to tell anyone about the pregnancy but I was at a point of really needing to tell my secret. So, with the ignorance of Napoleon heading to Waterloo, I leaped into the abyss of OB-GYN talk. I asked my friend what exactly did these doctor’s visits entail. The room fell silent, eyes fixed upon the two of us, and she as clear as a bell told me, “You know, they check your weight, blood pressure, and your uterus.” Now, next was my move-How do you, look at a woman that tells you she been examined as such, react? (A) Smile and nod, trying not to turn red (B) Ask for definitions (C) Ask another question. While all those danced in my brain, as I really just wanted to ask, “How in the hell do you do that? I choose (C) and calmly asked how the progress of the baby was going. It seemed to have let off the pressure has more details about being pregnant became part of our daily lunch conversation. Over the course of the next six and a half months, lunch became a place of comparison. My wife vs. my colleague in what became a Venn diagram of doctor’s visits, sonogram photos, baby room preparation, and name planning. We shared a baby shower, with Sue in attendance. The shower was a great party with all the usual games. Well, usual to me now but at the time I had no idea what was to occur. Guessing the weight of the mother to be and measuring the circumference of said mother’s tummy were all foreign at the time.  Pregnant women are remarkable. The crap they put up with, along with the incredible changes happening to their bodies, is astounding.  Men can barely handle a hug while women get their stomach rubbed, (sometimes without being asked) measured, get compared to large objects and have their breasts commented on or starred at by, well, everyone.

I heard the word “pumping” in a conversation and just looked straight ahead, waiting for context, until breast pumping was clearly defined as the subject matter. It had become an issue for those teachers with babies at home. (My wife included) Breasts are a subject matter that one would guess falls into “locker room” talk. However, you better include all locker rooms or lunchroom because I’ve heard more talk about breasts than I would have guessed going into my school career. One of the best moments concerning breasts came when a woman colleague confessed that in a Science lesson on Mammals the realization that Mammals and Mammary glands were related had a group of us in tears laughing. “Who knew?” I think was the line that sent us into the final delirium. Yes, babies are a celebration. The friends I have at school have all shared about joyous moments with their families with the group and me with them about mine. It truly is one of the best parts of being “Just One of the Girls”. Peace. 

Just One of the Girls (1)

I never planned on writing about my work place until about a month ago. I realized that my 13 years as one of only three males working at an elementary school might have some interest or at the least some humor. I then began to think about those 13 years and the stories I heard from the women I've come know and care about deeply. So, I will now post from time to time the situations, conversations and just overall frivolity that is being "Just One of the Girls".
It began 13 years ago. I was hired as a First Grade Bilingual (Spanish) Teacher. I went to school for my first day of work; it was for a team meeting of the other six new hired teachers and the principal. Now, meeting the principal at any age is still as nerve racking as you remember when you're in grade school. I went in and was standing by the Men's Bathroom waiting to go into our meeting. The principal came out of her office and walked right up to me. The small talk was over quick and she put forth the question that has rang in my memory to this day. "Are you married?" she asked. I answered the affirmative and her reply, "Great, you'll be safe." And, added, "Oh, that bathroom, its only the Men's room in name only; so lock when you're in it and don't be surprised when a female comes out." With that, my career was off and running. Now, I've long gotten over seeing women come out of the restroom but you'll have to ask my one colleague if she is over the time I forgot to lock the door. (Probably, I'll guess, because she still gives me hand-me-downs for my daughter). My marriage has kept me safe, I suppose, in that I have gained a level of confidence in the subject matter discussed in my presence. Truly, there is no topic that has not been breached in my presence. To say that I have not enjoyed these times would be a lie because I have found that in the circumstance of working with people, 99% of which are women for 13 years, I have found a comfort and camaraderie not found with men. Thus, when the stories of these adventures with words such as "nipular" or "pumping" come into play, I'll remind myself and any reader that the women behind these events are incredible, dedicated and creative forces leading children into the greater world of learning with verve and excellence. Peace.