I didn't sign up for this - teaching during a pandemic

It has taken me a few weeks years to figure out exactly where I wanted to go with this post. I have been journaling and writing a lot, hoping that it will somehow help unscramble the millions of thoughts I have daily about our current situation. And the truth is, I'm still a little unsure.

I think it is safe to say that no one signed up for this. Not the nurses who are front-line, making sure that everyone is okay, not the police officers who were forced to hand out tickets for gatherings of more than 15 people, not the grocery store workers making minimum wage to ensure that everyone else is getting what they need and honestly, everyone else. But for teachers, things are strange. To say the least.

We are now almost two years into this pandemic 'thing', and things in the field of education seem to be getting more and more difficult. Maybe, we're to blame. We finished the school year last year with a 'light at the end of the tunnel' outlook. September would be brighter. It would be better. We would be going back towards some resemblance of normal... yet, here we are. More exhausted (and confused) than ever before.

We're still in a state of uncertainty, and it doesn't look like it will be easing up anytime soon. Tensions are rising as we introduce mandatory vaccinations - drawing a (very controversial) line in the sand between colleagues, friends, family. Expectations and demands are higher as we work towards bridging the gaps in the learning that the pandemic has caused.. all while we're still living the day-to-day implications of higher absence rates and a government system that isn't adequately funding what they are asking us to do.

Most of us got into teaching because we love teaching. We love the interactions, the hugs, the 'ah-ha' moments when a multiplication finally clicks in the mind of a fourth grader. But lately, it has been hard to appreciate those moments, between the piles and piles of added work. 

An 'invisible' disease.

It's always interesting to think back on all of the ways my auto-immune disease has affected my life. Some days, it feels like yesterday that I was being admitted to the Alberta Children's Hospital, for the first time, with no idea what was wrong with me. While other times, it feels like a different lifetime. 

The truth is, I often reflect upon those times on Sunday nights. You see, Sunday night is when I take my injection of Humira - also known as Adalimumab, or to me and my family: the miracle drug that got me back to this somewhat normal lifestyle. 

Don't get me wrong, my disease is very much real, and it still takes it's toll on me on the daily. With joint pain, weird boughs fatigue/insomnia and other unexplainable symptoms, it becomes exhausting... But it's also pretty incredible to realize how far I've come in my battle through Behcets Disease/Rheumatoid Arthritis (or whatever the doctors are calling it this year). Let me explain. 

At 15 years old, I had no idea the pain, both emotional and physical, I would go through over the next decade. Not only did I have the normal challenges of my teenage girl years, I had to navigate the woes of high school while juggling ever-changing medications, dozens of monthly doctor's appointments and the emotional trauma my disease would have on my life.

I didn't realize that by my grade 12 year, I would need a handicap parking pass for my high school, because my arthritis had gotten so bad I could barely walk. I didn't know that I would have recurring ulcers in my mouth and esophagus or multiple flares of eye inflammation that would leave even the best doctor's scrambling for new treatments. I didn't know that I would lose most of my 'friends' because the reality of having a friend who looks different, acts different or is just too sick to make it to school was too much for any teenager to deal with.  

Looking back, it's crazy to think of the joy that a 20-something year old Allie felt the first time I ran up the stairs without worrying about my knees giving out. Or thinking back to the first specialist appointment where they were sure they had finally gotten my meds 'figured out'. If you would have asked me where I would be now ten years ago, this would not have been the answer. I honestly never thought I would lead a 'normal' life, but here I am, living so much more than that. 

 All in all, things have slowed down significantly over the years. And to be honest, I'll take the mini-flares and once-or-twice-a-year emergency room visits over what it was any day. 

#sundaythoughts

MY advice to first, second and third year teachers

Dear First/Second/Third year teacher,

Now that I am finishing up my third year of teaching, I would consider myself a little bit of an expert. An expert teacher? Oh no no no no no. I have become an expert in: countless questions for my admin, intermittent break downs and multi-tasking while trying to write report cards. I also have intermediate skills in getting through teacher evaluations and creating field trip forms with (many) errors. I have some knowledge in setting up a classroom, and then taking it down, and then setting it up again (okay, call me a perfectionist) and occasionally find myself giving helpful advice and supporting 9 year olds as they navigate the world of making and breaking friendships.

The truth is, I don't think there is such thing as being and expert teacher. Sure, those with experience have more tricks of the trade and can handle situations with a little more ease, but at the end of the day - teaching is constantly evolving.  There are new curriculums, and new schools of knowledge and yes, new kids. And to be clear, there is NEVER a dull moment.

I was once told that after my third year, things would continuously get easier (by the way, I can't wait!). So here it is... My not-so-official list of advice for first, second and third year teachers.

1. Find yourself a mentor AT YOUR SCHOOL. A teacher, a principal, an Educational Assistant, whoever! This is especially important in your first year. I was lucky enough to find myself in a school with many mentors, who have since become my friends. Your mentor is there to show you the ropes, give you advice, and listen to the countless problems you are going to encounter. But they are also someone you can go to for a good cry, and eventually, they just may cry to you too... because again, there is not such thing as an expert teacher.

2. Ask lots of questions. Remember in school when your teacher told you there was no such thing as a stupid question? Well, they were wrong. But ask them anyways. When in doubt, ask. When something is new, ask. When you're just not sure what the hell you're doing, ask. You'll not only look better for doing so, but your questions will often bring up learning opportunities that you wouldn't have had otherwise.

3. Relationships are EVERYTHING. I'm not kidding. Kids will not learn from someone they do not respect and from someone they think does not respect them. Listen to their problems, talk about their weekends and their parents, siblings, teddy bears, etc. and you will notice a huge difference in how they learn. Give them the opportunity to get to know you (and give parents this opportunity, as well). That way, when you do have those moments where you need to be strict and harsh, they know that you care and that you are just trying to help. (Also read Kids These Days by Jody Carington).
 3 a) consider your students' parents as a part of your "team". You're all in this for the same reason: the kids. Support them, let them support you and keep communication open and honest. Trust me, it makes a world of a difference.

4. Remember that there is no such thing as a bad kid or a bad class. I know a lot of teachers that would laugh at this one. Or friends and family that would say "but remember that one kid who ________". But hear me out. Kids aren't "bad", but they can be difficult. This year, a particularly challenging one for me, a friend told me something her mom told her when she became a teacher: "you always love the one who needs it the most at that time" - and this could not be truer. Remind yourself that the difficult student, or parent, or class is just an opportunity to grow.

5. Expect the unexpected. In three years of teaching, I have experienced students with severe behaviour. I have gone through a family emergency, and led students through a school-wide emergency. I have learned (or am learning) to teach remotely with very little notice and have had students with countless injuries, illnesses and other serious setbacks. How did I survive, you ask? You just do. You lean on your staff when you need them, and they lean on you when they need you. It's give and take (and give and take and give and take, etc.).

6. Remember that not everyone will like you. Students, teachers, staff alike. Just like out in the real world, you can't make everyone like you. It's just a fact. Be respectful, be kind, but also stand up for yourself. Chances are, for every person who doesn't like you, there are at least 3 who do. So chin up, you're killing it.

7. Prioritize. hah. This one is the hardest because on any given day, at least 5 people will ask you to do something that needs to be done immediately. Attendance, marking, parent emails, clubs - you name it. It's all about figuring out what actually NEEDS to be done immediately, and what can take the back burner.

8. Work/Life Balance - I still haven't fully figured this out. Every time I think I've figured it out, something pops up either at home or at school. I guess what I'm trying to say is make time for YOU. Make time for your friends, and make time for your family. I know, easier said than done... But burnout is real, especially in the early days. And without social interactions, it will happen. Be kind to yourself, and take care of yourself. Plain and Simple.

9. Exercise! I don't care if it's a walk around the block, a heavy weight lifting session or yoga... Move, even when you're tired. I don't know why this helps so much, but I know that as soon as I added exercise into my daily routine, I became a way better and more patient teacher. No lie.

10. Take your lunch break whenever you can't. Because there will be days that you can't, and those days will suck. Spend time with your colleagues in the staff room, even if it's for 10-15 minutes. Or go for a short walk. GET OUT OF YOUR CLASSROOM. It makes a huge difference, especially if you had a particularly rough morning.

Bonus: You're replaceable. The first time my admin said this to me, I wanted to cry. Me? Replaceable? Ouch. But what they meant was that there is always someone who can step in when you can't anymore. The kids are still going to be taken care of, whether or not you are there. They are going to learn, whether or not you are there. It may not get done in your way, but it'll get done. So take a sick day if you're sick, and take a personal day if you want/need one - and don't check your e-mail when you're off (cough, hypocrite). The kids will be okay without you.

I'm sure there are a million more things that I could add to this list, because let's face it, teaching is a hard job. It's exhausting, but I am also convinced it is one of the most rewarding careers you can choose. Find your passion, show up every day and do your best (the same advice you would want for your students). Love your job. Love your colleagues. It helps.

Sincerely,

Mme Allie

I'm 27 and I am immunocompromised.

So what does that mean exactly?

Immunocompromised, in my case, means that I am taking a medication that suppresses my immune system so that it no longer fights against itself - and I have been since I was 15 years old. In other words, it means that my body has a more difficult time fighting off infections and yes, virus', than the average person. 

No, I am not a senior. And no, if you looked at me you wouldn't know I am "sick", but that is the reality of being a young adult living with any sort of disease. I think what is most frustrating about this whole situation is that while yes, seniors are at a higher risk, so are so many others who look perfectly fine on the outside. Which means we need to be cautious. 

I have to admit, a week ago, I didn't think this whole Covid-19 pandemic was as serious as it is, but, to protect myself and those around me, I did stop going to grocery stores, and any other public spaces - i even called in sick to my job as a teacher regardless of the fact that classes were cancelled for students. I've practiced social distancing, and only interacted in person with a very small group of people who are/were symptom free. But the truth is, I'm probably going to be, if not already, infected by the virus - like many of you. It's everywhere, and at this point, it's inevitable. 

I guess the reason I started to write this blog is because I'm scared. The world is a terrifying place right now, and there is so much misinformation circling because everyone else is worried, too. But the people who are disinfecting every time they go to a store to deliver me food (and wine ;)) and the people who are explaining what immunocompromised means to their family and friends who may not have had an experience with it before are the people keeping me alive. Literally.

Every day seems to be an emotional roller coaster: where I wake up feeling that everything is going to be okay, and go to bed wondering how on earth I am going to get through this. My mental health is taking a toll despite the daily at-home yoga and workouts I have incorporated. Being told I cannot spend time with my sister (my best friend) because she is risking her life as a nurse, is heartbreaking. Standing 3 meters away from any dog owner I pass while walking my own, is heartbreaking. Wondering if I am going to be able to see any of my friends, or my boyfriend when he gets back from work, is heartbreaking.

I don't really know the point of writing this, because it doesn't really change anything, but it helped to get it all out there. Thanks for reading if you did :)

 

Milestones, and such.

Note: this blog has been in the making for over a month. Life gets busy, ideas get mixed around and perceptions change. It's not my best work, but something I feel needed to be said.

 At our somewhat regular coffee date, my best friends from university and I got into a rabbit-hole of a conversation about societal milestones. While we agreed that they're a huge part of the way our society defines success, I explained that in the grand scheme of things, they really don't mean much.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm guilty of "milestoning" my life, too. I had a plan growing up: married by 23, kids by 25 and a lovely established family, living in a house "we" own (whoever we was supposed to be at that time), by 30.  Yep, by 30 everything would be all figured out... or so I thought. Flash forward to now: 27, living back at home and desperately trying to save for a small condo to call my own, while paying off an insane amount of student debt. I think the problem is, in my own experience, that is, is that we forget to account for the unexpected. We don't consider that school might take us an extra year, or relationships don't always work out how we think they will. We lose sight of the fact that life happens, and it happens a hell of a lot faster than we ever expect it to. We also place so much importance on specific 'milestones' and forget to appreciate others. Let me explain.  For me, I had always placed so much importance on growing up and building a family (I came from a relatively young family, and just figured that that was the path I would take too) and while I hate to admit it, I had a really hard time when my closest friends started to get married and having kids. I had placed so much importance on one specific set of milestones (family-life) that I forgot to appreciate that my life was, in fact progressing - just in different ways.

I was working towards goals that I never even knew I had. I was raising an incredible amount of money for charities, establishing my dream career (a career I didn't even know I wanted until I was in university) and really figuring out who I wanted to be. It took me a long time to see that there are different paths in life and if I'm being honest, I still have days where I wonder what the eff I'm doing. It's all about a mindset shift, I think, and this is where things get harder to explain. It's about appreciating what the people around you are experiencing, while not forgetting to live your life, in your way. I think that it's also about setting goals, but not being discouraged when things don't work out exactly the way you think they will, being honest with yourself and appreciating all the things you ARE doing and accomplishing and being.

The thing about milestones is that we always think that once we hit them that life will figure itself out.  We place so much importance on reaching certain point that we forget to recognize the journey. We need to stop saying things like "when I hit my goal weight, I'll be happy", "once the wedding comes, we won't be so stressed", "when I'm done university, I'll have it all figured out" and start appreciating everything that we are achieving while getting to those points (or not getting to those points). Life is hectic and unpredictable, but that's kind of the beauty in it all and while milestones provide us with guidance and can help some of us realize our ambitions and reams, they aren't the end all be all of life.

Why/how I started a Bullet Journal

It's been almost a year since I last published a blog... Note: published is the key word. I write somewhat frequently, and then I delete. Or I write and then it sits in drafts for months and months as I contemplate new ways to articulate the many things going on in my brain.  I guess that was the initial reason i started my bullet journal: a confined, organized place to keep all my not-so-concise and not-so-organized thoughts together.

At about this time last year, my sister introduced me to what would soon become an obsession: Bullet Journaling. Now, before I get into it, let me just remind everyone how very unartistic I am... which made my hesitant to start - as a perfectionist, I can't handle the idea of doing something not-so-perfectly. I started off with a bang! I wanted a page for everything I could think of - and maybe, just maybe - that's what led to me 'forgetting' my bullet journal altogether. (Well that and life gets busy... you know how it is). Truth is, I went strong through the summer while I had time off, and then, when reality hit in September, the pages began to dwindle. 

Lucky for me, I met a new teaching friend at work, who is slightly more organized (read: extremely more organized) than I am - who just so happened to carry her bujo everywhere. I was re-inspired! And I am officially back on the wagon.

The benefits of bullet journal (according to Allie)
- one space for EVERYTHING: not sure where to throw that grocery list? Bullet journal. Weekly calendar? Bullet journal. Questions to ask your DR? Bullet journal. You get the idea...
- self-care: as much (or as little) 'alone time' as you allow yourself. For me, it's an hour a week of me time.
- artistic outlet for the non-artist: its somewhere to draw, to colour, to write, etc. where no one can judge you. 
- productive: i always carry my bujo with me. That way, anytime I have a minute of downtown, or something to update, it's there and ready. 
- paper is always better: come on... phone calendars are so 2010. But in all seriousness, writing stuff down is therapeutic. And it sticks in your brain longer (teacher stuff, am I right?)... plus, you can't smash the screen of a notebook.

The uncertainty of living with an auto-immune disease..

Picture this: it's Thursday night and your left hip is stiff, sore and a little swollen. You think to yourself "hey, this is normal, you've been really active, arthritis gets sore" and you move along with your life. Flash forward a couple hours, its 11pm and you're getting ready for bed. That little pain you felt earlier? It's getting worse by what seems like the minute. You're having troubles with the stairs, walking, hell, even laying on the couch is painful. You take something for the pain, and drift in and out of sleep for the night - waking up sore, readjusting and rolling back over to sleep.

You wake up Friday morning and start packing for camping, but subconsciously know that you really shouldn't go if you're feeling like this. You're sore, lethargic (but you tell yourself its from the lack of sleep) and move on with your day. It's an hour before you're supposed to leave, and you now know that its not a good idea to leave town. You lay on the couch, cancel your plans and contemplate what to do next. You don't want to go to the hospital, especially this early, because every time you do it doesn't really get you anywhere. You usually spend hours in the emergency room just to go home with pain killers and advice to 'follow-up with your doctor this coming week". 

Eventually though, the pain gets unbearable. You go to the hospital and tell them the whole story "My name is Allie Roy, I am 25 years old and I have an auto-immune disease called Behcets. I am on immune suppressant medications and am experiencing what I think is a 'flare-up' of my disease". You try to read the triage nurses expression.. Is she taking me seriously? 

Flash forward about half an hour, and they call you back in to see the doctor. This is terrifying. Half an hour? Must be serious - they never call you back that quick. You literally hobble along, trying to keep up to the nurse, and change into a gown and crawl under a heated hospital blanket (the best part, really). The doctor comes in a while later and explains the plan of action: big dose of advil/tylenol, calling the specialist, joint mobility test and taking blood samples to check that everything is okay on the inside- oh great, you think to yourself - your blood tests always come back normal.. they're going to send you home without any answers.

Time flies when you're having fun and next thing you know the doctor comes back in with some updates. Your inflammatory markers are up, your joint mobility is weak and the specialist suggests steroids and pain killers to get you through. You start crying... why? Who knows. Are you finally happy that someone is taking you seriously? Is the pain so unbearable that it draws tears? Does the word 'steroid' still make you cringe thinking back to the terrible side-effects they left on you years ago?

This was my experience these last couple days. I feel so thankful that this was a positive visit to the emergency room, because they aren't always. In the last ten years, since the onset of my symptoms I have learned that when you are faced with something that isn't black and white, something where answers are not always readily available - you never really know how the visits will go. You hold off getting treatment for fear that no one will believe you, that no one will validate your pain. This is scary. And sad. And nearly impossible to understand. 

 The truth is, I don't know why I'm writing this. It's not for sympathy, it's not for attention. It's to finally put into words the frustration and the uncertainty I feel every time there is an ounce of pain or at the first sign of weakness in my immune system. I have been looking, begging for something to write about these last couple weeks and this, this just came so naturally. It's nothing special, not descriptive or well-written, but its experience and its important.