Have you seen the NC Senate Budget Proposal?

I think every single person in the North Carolina legislature, and every legislature for that matter, needs to read this. Teachers are first responders. We entrust our most cherished loves to these people, yet don’t trust them to lead, teach, nurture, and influence their own profession. We have bastardized this profession, putting profit over pupils. We have turned children into pawns that drive revenue streams. The tone we have taken as a nation to degrade teachers is deplorable. We should be ashamed. North Carolina GOP, karma’s going to be a bitch, and her face is going to look an awful lot like mine.

No Pay Raise for Public School Educators (or State Employees)

The NC Senate once again proposes freezing pay for public school educators, which includes no step increase for teachers, no cost-of-living adjustment for classified employees and retirees. The Senate does propose giving $10.2 million to superintendents in 2014-2015 to distribute $500 annual pay raises for tenured teachers opting to enter into a four-year terminating contract that relinquishes all tenure property rights.

Eliminates Masters/6-Year/Doctorate Degree Pay in 2014-2015 (Grandfathers Degree Holders)

Beginning in the 2014-2015 academic year, all new Masters/6-Year/Doctorate Degree educators will no longer be eligible for 10% enhanced pay. All educators with Masters/6-Year/Doctorate Degrees who are receiving 10% enhanced pay prior to the 2014-2015 academic year will be grandfathered and their pay will be unchanged prospectively by this proposal. National Board Certification is unchanged in the Senate proposal.

Cuts Over 4000Teacher Assistants from Classrooms

While Governor McCrory proposed a $114 million cut to teacher assistants that would eliminate 3,400 of these K-3 instructors, the Senate proposes increasing that cut to $142.3 million in 2013-2014.

Makes the $376 Million Discretionary Cut to Classrooms Permanent

The Senate budget proposal gives the impression it is restoring the $376 million “discretionary” cut to local school districts, but look further at the proposal, and the Senate is proposing the following line item cuts to local school systems in exchange for a discretionary cut:  

$286.4 million in cuts to classroom teachers

$16.9 million in cuts to instructional support personnel

$6.9 million in cuts instructional supplies

$28.4 million in cuts to school bus replacement

$14.9 million cut to low wealth supplemental funding

Increase Class Size in Grades K-3 — Class Size Ratios Repealed

The Senate inserted policy language on page 58 of the omnibus budget text that allows for local school systems to pack as many students as they wish into grades K-3. NCAE has written extensively about how wrong this policy (not to mention, common sense prevails here!).  It’s worth noting that the Senate is inserting this language from Senate Bill 374 into its budget proposal without a full Senate discussion of the policy change. This provision combined with the permanent cuts outlined above means class size in grades K-3 is certain to increase.

Ends Tenure for ALL Teachers

The Senate budget proposal inserts Senate Bill 361, a bill that ends due process rights for all teachers by placing all teachers on one or four year terminating contracts. This is another bill that has not fully passed the Senate but is being inserted in the spending plan without debate.    

Schools are Graded A-F

The Senate budget includes all of Senate Bill 361, which grades schools on a grade of A-F that is calculated by student performance on test scores and, for high schools, graduation rates. 20% of a schools grade is reflective of its growth from the previous year. 

When do we get a chance to grade our legislators? Next fall’s election can’t come soon enough.

There’s so much pain in the world. Suffering abounds. There are so many soulless people just down the street from me in our state’s legislature. I met mothers in Uganda who buried their children because they had no access to basic vaccines that we take for granted. I can sit here from the comfort of my somewhat saggy leather couch and bitch about my son’s standardized tests and the fact that my dog has been barking incessantly. I lose my patience when the boys roughhouse at bedtime. I hear my tone turn terse moments before it’s time for lights out when it should be a time for tenderness.

And then, boys off to sleep with books hidden under their sheets, dog asleep under the end table next to me, I settle in for the night. I turn on my laptop and see images of Oklahoma. An elementary school. I have been in my own sons’ classrooms during tornado drills. I can picture the children, curled into tight little balls, squished into each other so tightly you cannot tell which socked foot belongs to which child, and the mussed hair all jumbles together into a rainbow of tresses.

I went back to my sons, on the cusp of dreamland, to retrieve the tenderness I had lost in my impatience. I kissed them again. I stroked their hair and whispered “I love you to the moon and back again.”

Samaritan’s Purse is dispatching its mobile units.

The Red Cross responds. Donate by visiting www.redcross.org or texting REDCROSS 90999.

I love grapefruit. No one else in my family does. I love its tart kick and fresh pop. I prefer its natural sour state instead of dolloped on sweetness. I suppose there’s a metaphor there.

If you read yesterday’s post, you know that I’m wiped out. I’m keeping today’s 5:00 Fridays post short. I’m adding the unspent writing energy to my energy pool. For now, I’m putting up my feet, literally smelling the roses blooming in glory in the garden, and sipping some grapefruit elixir.

Grapefruit Elixir

3 ounces Yazi ginger vodka

6 ounces grapefruit juice (Fresh is da bomb!)

Sprig of fresh thyme

Put ice into a lowball glass. Add vodka and top with grapefruit juice. Plop in that sprig of fresh thyme and give it a stir. This is a refreshing libation on a warm summer night. And grapefruit is good for you, right?

I’ve been in a funk lately.

• Back pain and difficulty breathing landed me in the ER last week.
• My sons have been home sick.
• Our ill-behaved dog has been a pest, and not in an endearing sort of way.
• The North Carolina general assembly has given us all coach class tickets on the Crazy Train.

Look, my life is easy, all things considered. Sometimes we all just need to hit the reset button and carry on. I’ve been feeling overwhelmed lately, though I told myself (and those around me) that I could handle it all. It turns out I can’t. At least not all the time. I’ll be honest, sometimes parenting is a burden. There, I said it. My ugly confession. Going this alone is plain hard on me and Mac Daddy. We do what we can and then some. It is draining to be the sole care givers for these two little boys, though yes, we share the joys and milestones too. That’s not my point today. What I’m saying is that if it really “takes a village,” we are exhausted being are our sons’ village. We fight extra hard to protect them and nurture them because we are all they have. There are plenty of relatives who love them, but none who care for them. Caring for and caring about are wholly different. It’s emotionally and physically demanding to be the only ones who are here for our boys. Oh, we love those children fiercely. Please don’t misunderstand my words. I tell myself we will grow into a tight-knit family because of this closeness now.

We will be a sappy Lifetime TV movie one day, the kind of tale where brothers come home with their wives and children and sit around a giant kitchen table gabbing and eating home baked goodies while butterflies dance among the yellow lantana in the pristine back yard. OK, scratch the pristine yard. That’s never going to happen. The home baked goodies will be there for sure, but add to the scenario the grown sons asking their mom (that’s me) to make their childhood favorite beef bourguignon and kale and brussels sprouts salad. I weave these daydreams in my head as old school filmstrips when I need to take a moment in the heat of the moment. Instead of counting to ten, I imagine a scene from our Lifetime movie and wait for the beep before turning to the next image. As daily life gets in the way of living (a paradox more ubiquitous than the quest for “balance”), I think about the foundation we are giving to Bird and Deal. Admittedly, things don’t always go as planned. I lose my shit. I say things I regret. I act more like a child than a parent. It’s all rather unbecoming.

Because parenting is hard.

I realize I sound whiny. I don’t mean to complain. I’m simply stating that being one of two people on this planet that our sons can count on is trying. Our mistakes are exponentially compounded since our mode of parenting is all they know. Our nerves fray easily and often as this pressure weighs on us. We are the Atlas of parenting, shouldering the life of these two boys. Of course we want, and need, to do right by them. We owe them our everything, our best. We owe them because we are all they have.

Mother’s Day has become a commercial blitz. First of all, one day out of 365 is hardly enough. I’m thinking at least a quarterly celebration is the least we can do. Who’s with me? I did get a lovely handwritten note from Bird and a sweet story from Deal. It’s those things I treasure.

I’m not going to wax sentimental about Motherhood. Truth be told, it’s something I sort of take for granted. My babies came to me easily, with little trial and little pain. The hard work for me began when they were born. Actually, it began when they turned three. They were pretty easy babies. Well, they did give me back fat and gray hair. I am wondering what the statute of limitations is on losing baby weight. I mean, my baby is almost eight. I still have time.

I’m telling my sons that what I really want for Mother’s Day is for them to wear a collared shirt and shorts that aren’t worn on the basketball court. Seriously, just look at how cute they used to be in their matching shirts. I can hardly stand it. I would have Instragrammed the hell out of those cute boys if that existed back in the day.

Now this is what happens when they put on a collared shirt. I give them grief about being slobs, but really, I love those boys. They kill me (not to be confused with when they are killing me, that is totally different and not smile worthy).

I’m rambling, aren’t I?

There’s just so much to say about Motherhood. I can’t say it all so let’s just suffice it to say that I wish everyone a very Happy Mother’s Day! This one’s for those fathers who step in as mothers, to aunts and grandmas and others who love and nurture and fiercely protect children as if they are their own, to mothers lost and mothers to be. Here’s to the husbands and fathers and men who support us and to children whose smiles and giggles are the best gift of all (and an antidote to the whining and fighting that we are spared, if only for just one day).

And I can’t help but be reminded of the mothers I met in Uganda, the mothers who wish and pray for such basic things for their children, things we take for granted. I am sending Mother’s Day wishes to those mamas too. And you know how you too can honor those mothers across the globe? Donate to Shot@Life this Mother’s Day. We are rich in so many ways. Let’s do our part to ensure no mother suffers a broken heart while ours are so full.

I had the honor and joy of speaking at Raleigh’s inaugural Listen To Your Mother show a couple days ago. There were 15 of us sharing our stories of motherhood on a stage with just a microphone and a music stand. The auditorium was full (sold out crowd!). Tears and laughter peppered the night, and just like my predecessors promised, the night wrapped up with loads of “I know exactly what you mean.” and “I can totally relate.” and “I so get what you were saying.” The “me too” moments abound if we just shed our nervous cloaks to share our own stories. Tales of motherhood are plentiful, and there’s always at least one we can relate to. I’m sort of going through withdrawal right now. I miss my time with my cast mates and miss the anticipation of participating in something so epic. Truly, it was epic. I’m unleashing hyperbole here for good reason.

I started my day yesterday worried I wouldn’t even make the show.

I spent the morning and afternoon in the ER after a freak turn of events that resulted from literally turning the wrong way in bed. My back snapped, I writhed in pain, and I found myself struggling to breathe and feeling faint. I was crying in pain and was a hair short of facing a full on panic attack. After much juggling and the help of dear friends in the wee hours, Mac Daddy took me to the ER. We had one friend pick up Deal and get him ready for school. Bird was sick so another friend hopped in her car and drove straight to us to sit with him while he was hacking and feverish. Imagine if we didn’t have such souls to call upon; we would have dragged two sleepy kids (one sick!) to the hospital. These are the times I hate people who have family to rely on. Mac Daddy and I have not stopped talking about how grateful we are for our friends. There’s a certain comfort in knowing that our sons were safe so we could tend to the business of getting me well.

As I was poked and prodded I asked the nurses and doctor if I would be able to speak that night at Listen To Your Mother. Mac Daddy thought me a freak for being worried about that while I was flinching in pain, but such is the power of LTYM. I was drugged up and sent home to rest, with a reminder to make a follow up appointment with my doctor next week. I slept and slept and slept some more and found myself lucid enough to speak that night. The show must go on, as they say! I got dressed (with help…in a pretty killer dress that a friend found and insisted would be a great fit for me…she was right if I say so myself!) and walked onto stage. My fellow cast mates were wonderfully supportive and helped me ever so gingerly when I had to sit and stand and move about.

I started my day in the emergency room and ended it on a stage.

Life is funny indeed.

When I stepped up to the mike to begin my tale, I felt calm, yet excited, but most of all, I felt whole. I learned something important about myself; a microphone has more healing power than Percoset.

RDU Moms (A toast to LTYM)

1 glass champagne (or prosecco in a pinch)

1 spoonful of blood orange sorbet

1 ounce Stoli Ohranj vodka

2-3 mint leaves

Pour champagne into a stemless wine glass. Add sorbet to champagne. Muddle mint leaves in a glass with vodka and strain into champagne.

Sip as a reminder to always Listen To Your Mother.

I had one of the world’s worst teachers on the planet in high school. This was her Valentine’s Day poem to me.

“Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
Everyone’s passing.
Why aren’t you?”

She read that aloud to the class. She was not being ironic or satirical. She was cranky and mean.

I was 17 then. It’s now 28 years later, and I can get a pretty hearty laugh out of that experience. Fortunately I had more great teachers than stinkwads at the chalkboard.

Dr. Larrick – He taught me Latin in 9th grade. I loved him from the get-go because he never referred to me as “Sanjit’s little sister” like everyone else did. He let me be me and never let me even tiptoe in my older brother’s footsteps. It was liberating indeed. Plus, he was the most enthusiastic teacher I ever had. I learned to love the study of languages from Dr. Larrick. We are in touch still, and I applaud what he does for kids and teachers alike.

Mr. Brodie – He made 10th grade bearable when I was lost in a world I didn’t belong in at boarding school. He listened when I needed to vent. He joked when I needed a laugh. He boosted me up when I needed confidence.

Ms. Smith – She made me adore Jane Austen, if only for a semester. If you really knew me you’d know what an achievement this was. Ms. Smith was a wiz at bridging our modern paradigm with the scenes and time periods of the books we read in her English class.

Ms. Kovatch – Hers is the only math class I ever enjoyed. She never let me cop out saying I was just bad at math. She gave me the nudge I needed to not only get algebra; she made me like it. Years later when I saw her (something like 20 years later), she asked me if I still considered myself bad at math. I admitted that it’s not that I’m bad at it, I just don’t love it as much as I love words.

There were other shining faces along the way. I mean, in 19 years of schooling, I did have some influential folks leave their marks. But the names listed above are the people on whom I reflect when I think about the magnificence of teaching.

And to my sons’ teachers (not naming names here), I bow. They are grace and patience and all sorts of awesome. To them I say THANK YOU. Thank you for teaching my boys how to read, how to converse in Chinese and German, how to paint in watercolor, how to do long division, how to be voracious readers, how to give and take, how to communicate in sign language, how honor differences, how to play piano, how to be a good sport, how to grow a garden, how to open their brains to see past a test and beyond a date. You have given our sons the gift of curiosity and bellowed air into their imaginations.

Thank you, Teachers.

I don’t own a fascinator but I do know some fascinating people. And I do fancy a hat. How I wish chapeaux were back in vogue. A man never quite looks like a gent and woman like a lady without a hat. I’m not talkin’ baseball caps or wide brim sunhats that are crushable and packable. I’d like to go to the Kentucky Derby some day just so I can don a fancy hat. I’ll also partake in a mint julep or two and get my fingers gooey from derby pie. As you can tell, I don’t much care about the horse racing. Or the betting. I’m not a gambling girl.

But I bet you’re going to enjoy this alternative to a mint julep.

Rosemary Race
3 ounces Makers Mark
3 ounces ginger beer
Squeeze of orange
Sprig of fresh rosemary

Pour the bourbon over ice and top with ginger beer. Squeeze in a wedge of fresh orange. Stir with a sprig of fresh rosemary and drop it in for good measure.

And just for the record, if I were a betting girl, my money would be on Frac Daddy.