New Beginnings- 2018

*dusts off the cobwebs*

It's been quite some time since I have been on this thing.  Need to get a hang of it again.  

*deep breath*

Here we go . . .

Cosmic Winter Wonderland, courtesy of NASA.

January 1st.  New year, new beginnings, right?  Well, normally I don't make any resolutions.  They often turn into broken promises that diminish my self-esteem by the end of February.  It has been a difficult three years.  I have had major changes in my career, health and financial stability.  Some of the negative items were out of my control, however, I did contribute to a portion of my anguish.  So here I am.  Baring my soul after three, no make that, four years of suffering.  My plan- to be a better version of me.

Step 1- Be kind.  I truly believe in karma.  The energy you put out in the universe will eventually return to you.  I know that I have not been the best human I could possibly be.  I plan to make amends with family, friends and people in general.  Most of all, I need to learn to be kind to myself.  I am my own worst nemesis.  It's time to stop punishing myself for all the wrongs in my life and begin to make different choices.  

Step 2- Make healthier life choices.  This applies to a number of aspects in my life from food to exercise to personal life decisions.  I plan to take a breath, think and then choose the best option for myself/ family.

Step 3- Begin the climb out of financial debt.  I'm not in real trouble yet but I can feel the constraints when it comes to my finances.  It's time to pay down the credit cards, pay off the student loans and increase my financial freedom.  I want to breathe again.  

I think that's all I can handle for 2018.  Here's to hoping that I don't fizzle out by the end of February.  :)

Grandma

Grandma

So, I could not think of a better come back than to write about my grandmother.  Last night, I dreamed about her.  It's funny because she has been gone since August of 2013.  It was a rough year for everyone in my family.  Grandma was the glue that held everyone together.  Now we are scattered like autumn leaves in the wind.  Some in my family are grieving openly.   While others, like myself have buried the hurt until it manifests in a different, almost virtual form.  But I digress . . .

My dream has no beginning and no end.  I just remember seeing my grandmother, smiling up at me from her wheelchair, up against a calming, light blue wall.  She is radiant and gorgeous.  The only flaw is her upper dentures that do not sit quite, causing her smile to be somewhat lopsided.  Grandma is in her floral nightgown and her hair is a golden blond.  Her presence is palpable and warmth emanates from her very essence.  She is holding out her arms to me.  I try to hug her but am prevented by an invisible force.  The harder I try, the more distant she becomes.  And then finally, she fades away, still smiling at me.  I want to scream, "No, wait.  I love you."  But she is gone and all I am left with is a feeling of bittersweet emptiness.  


Rest in Peace

Blanca Iris Santana
February 9, 1937- August 28, 2013

Requiem

I never told you how young you look in the afternoon sunlight.  I never told you how much I love you. I never told you about the little lies.  I never told you that I'm sorry for any wrongs against you.  I never told you how every morning you were my first thought and that every night, you were the last image in my mind.  I never told you how much you meant to me and how much I would miss you if you were gone.   I never told you about the wonderful memories we created.  I never told you . . .


Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
Drabble- a story told in exactly 100 words.



This was written for my friend Doreen Romero.  In memory of her late husband, Jose Lebron.  Rest in peace.

Life Gets in the Way

My goal is to write more this year.  Besides writing on the blogs and for my writer's group, The Burrow, I haven't really written much in the past two years.  I feel a little bit like an underachiever.  Yes, I am a mother of three, wife, daughter and teacher.  However, I feel like when it comes to writing, I could have done more.  This year, I declare openly to do more than just write outlines.  I will write more consistently.   I will edit after I have written my first novel.


That felt good!  I will write a novel this year!


Drabble- a story written in exactly 100 words.
Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Sibling Rivalry: Revisited

I wrote this two years ago . . .

Perhaps when I was younger, times and attitude were different. I remember taking care of my younger siblings. I recall ironing their school clothes on Sundays, feeding them breakfast in the morning, taking them to school and picking them up afterward.

This afternoon, my older daughter asked if she could have ice cream. I explained to her that the freezer had defrosted and she must check to see if the ice cream is edible. My younger daughter skips after her and asks if she could have ice cream. My older daughter yells, "No. Get out of here. Leave me alone." Of course, as all little children do, my younger daughter ran to my room and asked for ice cream. I was perplexed to say the least. I had to call my older daughter and explain the idea of "Am I my brother's [in this case 'sister's'] keeper."

This was a daunting situation. I had to explain to my older daughter, in great detail, that the younger one is only five years old. She must have everything explained to her. Would it have been too difficult to tell her, "I am going to check if the ice cream is good. If it is, I will give you some. If it's not, then it must be thrown in the garbage." I discussed this issue with my older daughter. Her expression told me all. Not one ounce of what we discussed entered her brain. She feels the victim.

I had forgotten how self-centered teenagers can be.

Everything has changed.  I have a new refrigerator that works and actually freezes food.  *jumps for joy*  The younger one is now seven and the older one is now fourteen.  Their relationship has not improved.  However, now the little one gives the attitude right back to the older sister.  Will they ever get along?

Bumbling, Babbling Boob

Yes, I am calling myself a boob because . . . . . . I totally did not post on A day for the A-Z Challenge. So today's post is all about bumbling and babbling. I am in the process of getting my husband back in school and making sure he stays until he gets his degree.

I am still house hunting but now I even include condos. I hadn't considered them since I was really looking for the "American Dream" home. I am also boggled down at work. Hhmm, boggled, should have put that in the title too. I cancelled my trip to for spring break since I will need a hefty down payment plus pay for closing costs should I get the property. :(

I digress, work is like a freaking zoo frenzy. Oh, wait, I can save the frenzy for F day. :D The state will be in to review our progress and we will also be graded by the city's school superintendent's office (Quality Review). More on that by Wednesday.

My children are doing well but my eldest is feeling the crunch of his 11th year (3rd year of high school). With exams quickly approaching, he is now required to go to school on Saturdays for test prep. My two daughters are plodding along and receiving good grades. I hope all stays along that path or else I will no longer be able to post (I will have died from insanity).

Well that is all I have time for today. Must finish my blog post for the Burrow and continue house-hunting.

Never Again

Never.

Never did I believe that life would be so hollow without you. You were absent from the first family event of the year. It was an unrelenting agony. I cried in utter anguish over the injustice of it all but still you did not walk through that door and you did not kiss me hello. You did not eat and converse and you did not lend a helping hand. These are all the great qualities you brought to our table over the years. Yet you will never walk, kiss, eat, converse or lend a helping hand ever again.

Never.

Image taken from Wikimedia Commons .


This is in memory of my brother - Gilbert Orlando Gadsen II,  October 2, 1985 to February 2, 2007.

I love you, hermanito.

Don't forget to check out The Burrow's 2011 Valentine Feature!

Children on the Beach

"Mommy, I got a bunch of sand in my butt."

"Go in the water, honey and wash out the sand."

"Mom, he keeps bothering me. He says I have a mustache and need to shave it."

"Ignore him sweetheart, he'll get tired of bothering you and leave you alone."

"Ma, there's sand in my sandwich."

"Throw it away and get another one sweetie."

"Mum, she's in my space. I told her about my personal space."

"If you all don't leave me alone to read this book, we are going straight home."

Don't you just love family day at the beach.



Image taken from Wikimedian Commons, Pierre- Auguste Renoir, Children on the Beach.

Conversations With a Six Year Old- Zoo Flowers

"Oh Mommy, those are pretty flowers! What are they doing in a zoo?"

"Well, the zoo owners wanted to make everything really pretty so that people will want to visit the animals."

"That's silly. People will visit the zoo no matter what. Everybody loves animals."

"Well, I think these flowers are a way of making everyone feel welcome."

"Hhmm. Well, the animals make me feel welcome. I don't like the bugs in the flowers. Like bees. They can chase you and sting you and then you cry and cry."

Who can argue with the logic of a six year old?

Thanksgiving

 From my home to yours- Happy Thanksgiving!!!!!!!

T’was the night of Thanksgiving,

But I just couldn’t sleep.

I tried counting backwards,

I tried counting sheep.

The leftovers beckoned,

The dark meat and white.

But I fought the temptation,

With all of my might.

Tossing and turning,

with anticipation.

The thought of a snack

became infatuation.

So I raced to the kitchen,

Flung open the door,

And gazed at the fridge,

Full of goodies galore.

I gobbled up turkey,

And buttered potatoes,

Pickles and carrots,

Beans and tomatoes.

I felt myself swelling,

So plump and so round.

‘til all of a sudden,

I rose off the ground.

I crashed through the ceiling,

Floating into the sky,

With a mouthful of pudding,

And a handful of pie.

But I managed to yell

As I soared past the trees

Happy eating to all,

Pass the cranberries, please!!

May your stuffing be tasty

May your turkey be plump.

May your potatoes and gravy

Have nary a lump.

May your yams be delicious,

May your pies take the prize

And May your Thanksgiving dinner

Stay off of your thighs!

by Lauren

Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Bronx Stories: Tio Jorge

Tio Jorge (Uncle George). What can I say? He is that uncle in everyone's family who is unmarried with no children. He is that uncle with the stinky feet and you don't want to sit next to at family functions. He is the one who ends up watching the kids when there is no one else to babysit. He is the one who always lives with a sibling because he can't hold down an apartment. He was also the one who I watched cartoons with in the morning. He was also the one who walked me to school when I was younger as my mother was still adapting to her new medications.

Unfortunately, he was the one who drank too much and dabbled in too many drugs. Tio Jorge became involved in shooting up heroine and smoking crack. His heart was weak from all of the substance abuse and it was decided that he would need open heart surgery. He died on the operating table. My mother cried as she buried her baby brother. I cried as I selfishly mourned the fact that I would not be having a sweet sixteen. All the money that should have gone to ballgowns, limos and catering halls, went instead to two funerals (one here in NYC and the burial in Puerto Rico) plus airfare for every adult in the family. I was angry for a long time as I had worked so hard to be the good daughter and earn that sweet sixteen. Now I see how selfish I was and am ashamed of how much I let it get to me. I should have mourned my uncle who was actually not such a bad guy with the exception of the drugs and alcohol. I regret so much but how else was I to feel. I was cheated by death.

For several weeks we prayed saying the "Hail Mary" and "The Our Father" in Spanish in commemoration of my uncle's death and for safe passage of his soul to heaven. It was really difficult for me as I only speak conversational Spanish and not very well as it is entwined with street slang. We stood in a circle, with candles lit in the background, holding hands, chanting the prayer over and over and over again. It felt like we had been chanting this prayer for hours but in fact it was approximately thirty minutes. My father had stumbled over his words. My mother drew her arm back in a wide arc and slapped my father in the back of his head. It was so forceful that his glasses flew off of his face. My father simply picked up his glasses from the floor and began chanting again. Needless to say, whenever I was unsure of the correct words in Spanish, I remained silent and edged away from my grieving mother.

I wish I could tell Tio Jorge that I'm sorry and I miss watching cartoons with him in the afternoons. 

Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Tizian_009.jpg

Random Saturday: Kids n' Things

Today, I helped my youngest daughter with her homework and realized that although she is a great decoder (able to read words), she has great difficulty with reading comprehension.  I bought her a second grade reading comprehension skills book.  She seems to get half of the questions correct.  I went over the problems she got wrong and she has a better understanding of what the question is actually asking.

I also got on my son's butt about a math project he should have completed yesterday in school.  Let me start from the beginning.  I went to parent-teachers afternoon conferences yesterday.  Fortunately for me, my son attends the very high school in which I teach.  Unfortuantely for him, he did not get rave reviews.  He is very intelligent, very creative but a bit of a slacker.  He waits until the very last minute to do projects and homework assignments.  So when I met with his teachers, it was the same comment over and over, "Your son has such great potential.  However, he fails to submit work."  Do you want to know the crazy thing?  He actually does the work but doesn't hand it in to his teachers.  So now I am micromanaging, which I hate to do but it's necessary for now.  No electronic devices for him until next report card in December.

My middle daughter is also in trouble.  She has become the social butterfly.  Last year she was in ARISTA honors society.  This year, she is getting barely above an 82 average.  Like really!  No electronics for her either.  I helped her to organize not only her room but her bookbag also.  We set up folders for each subject for handouts and whatnot plus put her notes in chronological order for studying.  What happens?  She couldn't find the folder with her work.  Her teacher is looking at me and I am looking at my daughter.  So now on Sundays, I do bookbag checks for my kids at home just like I do on Fridays for my students in study hall.

But not all is bad.  I go on a retreat with my school on Monday and Tuesday to determine how to move the school forward and decide on what are our "next steps."  Hubby is great and our relationship after ten years together and eight years married is wonderful.  Yes, there are ups and downs but for the most part, we are well.

I've been thinking of going back to school.  I need thirty credits above my master's to receive top pay as a teacher.  Not sure if I should major in Neuroscience: Developmental Disabilities or go for Educational Administration licensing to become an Assistant Principal.  Decisions, decisions. . .

Pictures

This was a great show at Sea World. It had singing, sea animals, acrobatics and visual effects. Really wonderful show that the kids will love!




This is a picture of one of the shows at Sea World. It wasn't great, jokes fell short, but quite entertaining.




Beautiful moonlight on our anniversary in Disney. We've been married eight years and it feels like it was just yesterday that Gerald asked me on our first date. :D

 
And although I really hate posting pictures of myself, here is a photo of me and my husband. We were at a staff bowling meet. We didn't play but we did have several glasses of wine! It was fun to be out together with just adults!

Juggling Family, Health and Work

Who ever said that managing family, work and everything in between is easy? Since August, I have had constant struggles with time management. These are some things I have tried to get a handle on the situation:

1. Planner- I write down all appointments, meetings for work, etc.

2. Calendar- I have one by the computer and write just little short notes as a second reminder.

3. Family- I check with hubby and kids to make sure they know we have an appointment.

4. Meals- I have planned meals ahead of time for lunch at work or dinner at home. Breakfast for everyone is up for grabs (cereal, oatmeal, quick stuff).

5. Budgeting- I create a budget for myself and husband. He is terrible at this but I try to stick to it. I also make a list of bills and how much to allot for each one.

6. Bank accounts- I check them regularly for checks to clear and ensure that funds are available for spending.

7. To Do Lists- I make a list every morning at work to make certain that I get things done. Then I number the list in the priority that it needs to be done.

8. Grocery shopping- since I usually shop at Pathmark (supermarket in the Northeastern US), I go to the website and search through the circular. I print up a shopping list of sale items and try my best to spend less that $300 every three weeks.

9. Clip coupons- I clip coupons only on the items I actually use and take them with me to supermarket for even more savings.

10. Homework- Every night, I check the kids' homework. I spend about an hour either reading, looking through notebooks and helping them with difficult problems. I also have my own homework from work where I am planning lessons, gathering materials, meeting agendas/ notes and making phone calls (both good and bad).

11. Housecleaning- every Saturday is dedicated to cleaning the house thoroughly. The kids have certain chores to complete and I/ husband do laundry, organize/ shred papers, put away anything that's out of place, etc.

12. Family visits- I usually see my mom and grandmother every two weeks. I try to make it a point to cook for them and take care of things they can't do themselves (they both had strokes and are partially paralyzed).

Now, even with all these strategies, I am finding it difficult to juggle things.  However, it seems like there are just not enough hours in the day to accomplish everything that needs to get done. Any suggestions?

A Random Act of Kindness

Image courtesy of: Wikimedia Commons.


The house is so untidy,
and I have not the energy to clean. 
My back is aching, my head is pounding,
and all I want to do is scream.

The kids are causing a ruckus
and they're trying to drive me insane,
My sister said to me "Let me take the girls,"
relief spreads across my face quite plain.

I called her up the following day
asking when to pick up the girls
She told me "I'll drop them off tomorrow,"
In a voice as soft as pearls.

this poem is a sweet, loving kiss,
To my thoughtful little sis.

___________________________________________________________

I want to thank my sister for caring for my girls while I've been ill.  She really did me an unselfish act of kindness.  *hugs*

"A Random Act of Kindness always sets off a chain, which may or may not circle back to you, but which makes the world a better place to be in. See it play out in our Pay it Forward feature, exclusively at the Burrow."

-excerpt from Rayna M. Iyer's blog Coffee Rings Everywhere.

Bronx Stories: Love Child

It was hazy, hot and humid. The three H's. Nothing could be worst. Well almost nothing. The smell of hot garbage was intense. The date was July 24, 1994 and I was nine months pregnant. I woke up early and went to the Puerto Rican Day Parade on the Grand Concourse in the Bronx. This is near 167th Street, about seven blocks from Yankee Stadium. All day my family had been cheering and waving their flags on the sidewalk.

As the flags waved from side to side, we shouted, " Que viva Puerto Rico! (long live Puerto Rico)." We ate piraguas which are a mixture of juice and snow cones, coquitos which are coconut icies and pasteles, an ethnic food that is hard to describe but trust me delicious. I stuffed myself with every single Latin delicacy available.

Later, around 6:00 PM, I went home exhausted feeling pressure and pain in the center of my back. I walked around somewhat and performed the same menial chores I did every evening; cooking, cleaning and tending to my mother's needs as she is wheelchair bound. I waddled around for two hours. Finally, at 8:00 PM, I grew hungry. I was absolutely ravenous and wolfed down three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. At 8:07 PM, I got up to put the plate in the sink and I felt warm fluid coursing down my leg.

My water broke! Immediately, I experienced the most excruciating ring of pain around my waist. My child's father assisted me into the car. I felt every bump, pothole and sharp curve on the way to the hospital. It was an interminably excruciating journey.

He drove me to North Bronx Central Hospital. There were several complications. I had toxemia or preeclampsia, a condition in which high blood pressure and protein in the urine develops after the twentieth week of pregnancy. It is an autoimmune disorder that can have serious repercussions on the fetus, if not controlled.  

Unfortunately, I then spiked a fever of 104 degrees Farenheit due to a placental infection. I suddenly stopped dilating at nine centimeters. I screamed in anguish because I only had one more centimeter to go! As if that wasn't enough, I threw up peanut butter and jelly all night long. To this day, I refuse to eat a PB & J sandwiches.

Several excruciating hours later, I whispered to my aunt, as my voice was hoarse from vomiting, "I feel like I'm going to die." She runs out of the room and finds a midwife. All of a sudden there were people screaming orders to one another, mass confusion and I was unceremoniously thrown on to a gurney. I heard "Fetal distress, pressure low. Take her to the O.R. stat!" A nurse jumps on the gurney with her hand placed unceremoniously between my legs.  I am not sure if she was holding the crown of the baby's head or just wanted a free ride.

At last I was rushed into the operating room. I was told to count backwards from ten. I made it to nine and knew no more.

Justin Eric Rodriguez was born at 11:31 PM on July 25, 1994. When I finally awoke, sixteen hours later, to my dismay I found myself in the recovery room. I had an emergency Caesarian section. I cried for several minutes as the realization set in that I had missed the first few hours of my son's life. I was in physical, emotional and mental anguish that would not be assuaged until I held my darling in my arms.

I had the pleasure of gazing into his eyes on the 26th, as both our fevers would not abate. It was one of the happiest moments of my life.


 
HAPPY BIRTHDAY JUSTIN!  

LOVE YA,
MOM



This was written when teaching my students to write memoirs. They were suppose to write one of the happiest moments of their lives. This was mine.


Join the drabble dare challenge at The Burrow.

The Versatile Blogger Award Goes To . . .

I was so graciously awarded The Versatile Blogger Award by Rayna M. Iyer and Jan Morrison.  Please check out their blogs.  They are fabulous writers and so much fun to hang out with.

As tradition dictates, I am supposed to reveal seven things about me.  So, here we go:

1. I am one of 17 grandchildren (big family), not to mention that these grandchildren have a total of 22 great grandchildren.
2. I have three beautiful children- Justin (16- Dear God, help me), Ayanna (14- ditto), and Zionne (7- my princess).
3. I manage the inclusion program (special education students in a general education environment) at a NYC high school.
4. I love to swim but rarely get an opportunity to go except during the summer.  :(
5. We are going to Disney later this summer (excited!).
6. I love art (Impressionism, Surrealism, and all its many forms).
7. I am Puerto Rican but have only had the opportunity to visit the island twice (once in the late 80's as a teen and in 2002 on my honeymoon with my wonderfully romantic and caring husband).

Next is to award this to several new recipients:

Hart Johnson- for her Nakedness and World Domination
Cruella Collett- for her Digressionisms
Tara Smith- for her procrastination, plus dithering and dathering.
365 Days of People- for being so observant and poignantly funny with sarcasm.
Becky's Book Reviews- for covering such a wide variety of books.
The WM Freelance Writers Connection- for having such wonderful ideas and being so supportive of Writing Mommies.
And because everyone else who I was to award this to has already received it, I will end there.

Thank you Rayna and Jan!

The Million Dollar Park

It is funny how a single object could bring back such vivid memories. I was driving home from work today and I passed "The Million Dollar Park" which is sort of like an inside joke to my family. The park is actually named Nicholas Lia Memorial Park and is located in Staten Island, NY (one of NYC's boroughs).

My brother, Gilbert Orlando Gadson II, has always been in trouble. At the age of two, he drank my hair dye. Yes, I said hair dye. At the age of five, he stole donuts from his kindergarten teacher. That is another post altogether. At the age of 14, he had been suspended from school so many times, we thought he was going to be home-schooled. Gilbert was the sort of kid that got into trouble but you just couldn't help but love him. He had such a kind heart. If anyone in the family needed him, he was there.

But I digress . . . Gilbert was about 13 or 14 years old when I lived in my aunt's house. I lived in the upstairs rooms (two bedrooms and a bathroom) and my aunt had the downstairs rooms (three bedrooms, bathroom, living room and kitchen). One week, my aunt noticed that she had twenty dollars missing. The following week, my uncle noticed that he had money missing. The third week, I was missing money. We knew that there was a thief in the house but we just didn't know who it could possibly be.

One day, shortly after I was missing money, my cousin tells my aunt that he saw Gilbert with money. My cousin asked Gilbert, "Where did you get the money?" Gilbert replied,"In the park. It was on the sidewalk near the grass." My cousin, being curious, followed Gilbert. He said that Gilbert dug up the soil near the bushes in the park and "found" several twenty dollar bills. My cousin then proceeded in telling my aunt and myself. We confronted Gilbert and with an Academy Award nomination, he cried tears and professed that he did not take our money. He adamantly stated that he found the money. This was our reply, " So what now you're finding money in million dollar parks. Where is this park? I need some money right now." Hence, the park's name.

Now that I reflect on that gut-wrenching scene, I realize that I would rather have my brother here and stealing from me than gone resting in an urn in my sister's home.


I love you, hermanito.

Just When You Thought You Knew Somebody

Sometimes we think we know our kids. We raise them, live with them and talk to them frequently. However, sometimes your kid will make a comment that really gets you thinking, "Well maybe I don't know them so well."

Now let me put this into context for you. I am sitting at the kitchen table with my friend discussing my three children and their various achievements. We begin talking about my 13 year old being in the Junior ARISTA society, prom, graduation and her good grades. I was under the impression that I treated all of my children equally. However, my 15 year old son made a comment that surprised me. "Oh yeah, talk about the starchild." He gets up, with his head hanging down, and leaves the room.

I was shocked. These words nearly broke my heart. As a mother, you don't want your children feeling like the ugly duckling. It occurred to me that perhaps, I don't give him enough attention or the praise he deserves. Its not that I think he is a "trouble maker" (as he views himself). I just feel that he has made some bad choices in the past and is now paying the consequences of those actions. But that is beside the point. I now see that perhaps my son feels that the girls take up all of my attention.

Similarly, I noticed that in my writing, sometimes a character may not receive the attention to detail that they deserve. Peripheral characters truly support and provide a background for our main characters. During revision, I plan to polish some of these characters so that they not only provide a backbone for the main character but also coherently solidify the potholes in the storyline.

Course of action- give my son more one on one attention where just he and I are conversing about anything he chooses. No, this will not happen every single day but I have set aside some quality time. Let's see how it works.

Foster Care and Adoption

Today, the students had a very interesting discussion. We are reading the book Things Fall Apart by Achebe Chinua. The protagonist Okonkwo is a fierce warrior, titled wrestler and immensely wealthy man who hates his indolent father, Unoka. His father represents failure and weakness, qualities that Okonkwo deplores. Okonkwo is a revered member of the clan, in Umuofia, and has a reputation for "ruling with a heavy hand." He also has three wives and eight children.

During a tribunal meeting, it was determined that a neighboring tribe would gift Umuofia with a young male and a virgin, in compensation for the death of a female Umuofian tribe member. The elders of the clan decided that since the young male belonged to the tribe, Okonkwo would care for him. This is how Ikefuma came into the household of Okonkwo. He lived with Okonkwo for three years as a foster son.

My co-teacher, Ms. S. asked a very interesting question: What is the difference between foster care and adoption? The students responded that foster care is where a child is in the care of a family but still a ward of the state. The child in foster care can still have contact with their biological parents. They then stated that adoption is a process in which a parent or parents are legally responsible for a child that is not their biological child.

Ms. S. then told her experience of foster care in which she had a seven year old girl, Valerie, come into her family when she was four years old. Valerie was taken from her biological parent because she was viciously abused by her mother's "friends." Ms. S. told of how her father would not smoke around Valerie. There was an incident where he went to light a cigarette and Valerie jumped back, begging him not to burn her. From that moment, Ms. S.'s father refused to smoke in the house. Sadly, the day came when Valerie was taken from Ms. S.'s family and returned to her own mother. It was the first time that Ms. S.'s father had ever cried. Sadly, to this day, Ms. S. has no knowledge of what happened to Valerie.

The students then began sharing their own stories. It was heart-breaking. They also debated with the issue of whether they can see themselves fostering a child in the future. These are the answers they shared aloud:

1. It would depend on how old they are. I want a kid as a baby so that I could raise them how I am raised. Kids that are older don't really change and can cause trouble.
2. I would foster a kid because I could bring them wonderful experiences like what it means to love or what it means to have a family.
3. I would foster a child that is a teenager because they may have nothing but bad experiences and I think that I can show them a better life.
4. I would adopt a kid if I wasn't able to have children. I think I would be a great mom.
5. I wouldn't want to foster or adopt a kid because what if the biological parent wants them back, then I'll be hurt. I would love the child just so they could be taken away from me.
   
6. I would foster a child if they were in my family. Like if you have an aunt that is on drugs and then you take their kids in foster care just so they don't lose their roots. Everybody should know where they came from.

I found these answers to be so thoughtful and to tell the truth, surprising. I did not think that my students cared that deeply. I guess they really understand the meaning of "Am I my brother's keeper?" They made connections between Ikefuma's experience with foster care and Ms. S.'s experience. I was impressed.

On day's when I feel that my students aren't listening and am distraught with despair, I'll look back at this blog and smile.