- Tornado A is so good at getting under people’s skins that he got my mom to threaten to get rid of the dog.
- Tornado A recognizes empty threats when he hears them and wears them like badges of honor.
- I forgot to get a first day of school picture. I think I failed as a mom.
- I’m still not over my kids showing up on their dad’s days whenever they want.
- The ex is annoyed that the kids decide what house they will be at for dinner on his nights by asking what is for dinner at his house and mine. I said he and I would’ve done the same thing at their ages.
- I’m the English Department’s Big Sister. No one even hides it any more.
- I’ve got to get better at checking off the boxes after I did the habit or chore. The checking off part seems to be a big problem for me.
- Tornado E did the right thing without being nagged or guilted. I must be doing something right.
- Tornado S used his phone to take pictures of his supply lists and assignments and sent them to me. That’s a big step towards organization.
- I think this is going to be a good school year.
Weekly Recap
August 4, 2023 — faemomMortal Kombat with a Teenager
August 3, 2023 — faemomMy kids love their video games. Lately they’re playing Mortal Kombat 11. I casually mentioned that I used to play Mortal Kombat back in the day. And Street Fighter. And Soul Caliber. And Tekken. I just like fighting games.
A couple years ago I took the kids to a retro arcade exhibit. It’s weird to think the arcade games I played at their age are retro. I taught them to play The Simpson Game, The Teenage Mutant Ninja Game, and, of course, Mortal Kombat.
The other day, after I took them to an arcade and pizza place for one last summer event, Tornado E asked if I wanted to play Mortal Kombat 11 with him. I said sure.
I sat with him, and he handed me a remote.
Tornado E: I thought we would start with the tutorial. Um, have you ever held an X-box controller.
Let’s pretend that’s a joke, since I taught him to play all those years ago.
I did the tutorial. Tornado E coaching me through the moves. He even complimented me as well.
Then it was time to play.
He chose his guy. I chose my favorite.
And we battled.
And I won.
Me: It’s just a fluke.
Round 2. And I won. By quite a bit.
Tornado E: Huh. Do you want to play again?
Me: Sure.
The thing is. I shouldn’t have been able to beat him. He plays more than me. If I play Injustice with Tornado A, he beats me. Actually, he says I cheat if I use a move more than twice.
We play again.
Tornado E won the first battle.
I won the second.
Tornado E won the third.
Tornado E: So you liked to play these games, huh?
Me: Yup.
Tornado E: You played them a lot?
Me: Yeah. Didn’t you see what game I played when we were on the arcade on vacation?
Tornado E: No.
Me: Yeah. They had Soul Caliber on free play. That’s what I played while you were all playing.
Tornado E: Huh. Do you want to play again?
The Rebellion
July 24, 2023 — faemomI raised my kids to question authority. Respectfully. One day I’ll write how this drives my parents crazy.
I also raised them knowing one day they would rebel against me.
My mom had a philosophy of if you give your child something to rebel against, they would. My grandparents were strict on their oldest two children, my aunt and my mother. So the teenage girls wore modest clothing out of the house and dressed in more teen-appropriate attire at school. The dressed back into the modest clothing at home before their parents came home from work. They put on make up at school and washed it off at home before their parents returned. They bummed cigarettes from their parents because with two smokers, no one was keeping track. Every time they asked to go out, it was a no. Sometimes a maybe.
So when my mom raised her own teens, she did things different. If we asked to go out, as long as my parents had the info, the answer was usually yes. I could wear makeup. But the clothing was an issue in my family; my parents’ threats felt like promises. So I never dyed my hair or got that belly-button ring. My brother got more freedom and pushed that envelope to the edge. (I stand by what I said.)
So now I’m raising my own teens, and the rebellion has started. It’s late. It’s not too heated or dumb. My children and I tend to be on the same side against a couple of others in our lives, so they aren’t pushing me that hard. Common enemies help.
But rebellion has come, nonetheless.
***
Me: Are you going out running?
Tornado E: (in his regular clothes heading for the door) Yeah.
Me: It’s 1pm and 108 degrees.
Tornado E: So?
Me: No. Running.
Tornado E: You can’t stop me. (goes out the door)
Me: You better have sunscreen on!
Me: (When he returns from his run) Drink water!
Tornado E: But Mooooooom!
Me: We live in a desert. It is summer. You were outside. Running. Drink. Water. Now.
Tornado E: Fine!
***
Me: Did you shave your legs?
Tornado S: Yes.
Me: Um. Curious. Um. Why?
Tornado S: I like how it feels. And society can’t tell me what to do.
Me: Do you need me to buy you razors and show you how to do it?
Tornado S: Yes, please.
Later that week, Tornado S is cussing and yelling from the shower as he shaves his legs. I am dying with laughter.
My dad: Is he … shaving his legs?
Me: Yeah.
My dad: Why?
Me: Because he likes it and society can’t tell him what to do.
My dad: Huh.
Me: Listen, I have 14 year olds with huge tattoos in my class. Like take up most of the arm tattoos. I’ve got students with crazy piercings and hair styles. If this is how Tornado S wants to rebel, I’m getting off easy.
Tornado S: (from the shower) WHY IS THERE SO MUCH BLOOD?
My dad and I start laughing.
My dad: He may live to regret this.
Tornado S: IT’S SO MUCH BLOOD!
Me: I’m so glad he doesn’t get periods. He would lose it.
***
Tornado A: I’m not going.
Me: You’re going.
Tornado A: I’m not going.
Me: You’re going.
Tornado A: I don’t want to.
Me: I didn’t ask. You’re going.
Tornado A: I’m not going.
Tornado E: Shut up and get in the car before she makes you. It’s just a hike.
Tornado A: I don’t want to.
Tornado S: She’s just going to make you. Just deal with it.
Me: Get in the car.
Ah, teenagers….
Traveling with Teenagers
July 19, 2023 — faemomI want to expand on my last post.
My mom insists that my brothers and I stopped wanting to go on family vacations, so we stopped. She uses this as a reason I should stop taking my own children on vacations. Tornado E is 18. Tornado S is 16. Tornado A is 13.
But I remember my 18th birthday. I asked to go to Disneyland, so that I could go to Disneyland for the 18th time on my 18th birthday. I was told no because we had to travel so much for my college prep. I think we went to Vegas for a few days because I quit my job to go. Don’t worry. It was a crappy job because it was at a daycare where the workers also brought their children. And those children were the worst. One tried to steal my jewelry, and another hit me. Any ways. I don’t remember ever saying I didn’t want to go.
Yet this conversation happened several more times, and I explained my denial. Finally I realized there were other witnesses to call to the stand.
Me texting: Hey, dude, mom says we stopped wanting to go on vacation. I don’t remember that.
My little brother: LIES!
Me texting: Hey, dude, mom says we stopped wanting to go on vacation. I don’t remember that.
My baby brother. Well, someone is misremembering. I think they got tired of all our fighting. They were broke.
Me: Hey, Dad. Mom says we didn’t want to go on vacation with you and mom when we became teenagers. The boys and I don’t remember that.
My dad: Well, remember the biggest car we had at the time was the Bronco. (That didn’t have air conditioning and would die after 20 minutes.) And you were all getting jobs and starting your own lives. You kids didn’t want to hang out together that much.
Me: (remembering the younger brother and I were no longer in a to-the-death-battle-for-sibling-supremecy but we weren’t really friendly either) Yeah, that makes more sense.
Traveling with teenagers has it’s own challenges. But teenagers are just like big toddlers. So I treat them like that. Make sure they have plenty of snacks, drinks, and naps.
- Involve them in planning. Ask where they want to go, what they want to do, where they want to eat, what they want to eat. They need to learn how to plan and compromise. My teens often answer I don’t know. So I give them options to choose from. While on vacation, I give them options as well. This year we didn’t go to the beach but somehow found ourselves at a random mall in LA and later at Universal City Walk.
- Give them responsibilities. Teach them how to pack. Don’t let them get to adulthood without this skill. I have mine help me pack the car. Front-seat passenger navigates. We split up tasks. It’s great.
- (Something I forgot to mention last post) Portable DVD player. I’ve been using one on long rides forever. I like them because I don’t have to worry about downloading or WiFi. And most places I can plug it into the hotel TV. Everyone gets to choose 3 movies. But most years, I make them choose a cartoon series. They may never agree on a movie, but they will always agree on Simpsons, Batman: The Animated Series, and The Last Airbender.
- Snacks and Drinks. Have them prepare their snacks. Go shopping with you. Make the snacks. I get trail mix supplies, and the kids make their own trail mix specific to their own tastes. Since I can now trust them not to eat all their snacks in the first hour, I do pack little snack baskets with snacks, a drink, a toy, and a treat. Yes, teenagers are toddlers. Give them a random little toy or their favorite candy, and they are so happy.
- Bring things to do. This year I bought a half a dozen fidget toys for each kid. Tornado A is antagonizing the crap out of his brothers, and I figured I would keep his hands busy. This also keeps the older two from trying to hit him. It worked great. We also do trivia games. When all else fails, I pull out my phone, and I give them riddles.
- Make them rest. Teen brains need lots of sleep. So make them go to bed early the night before you need to be up early. Let them sleep in when you can. Have rest days at beaches. And parks. I took my kids to a park this year, and they really enjoyed it. Who would have guessed?!
- FEED THEM. Teens get so grumpy and stupid when they are hungry. Don’t push back meal times. I suggest eat earlier due to all the walking and moving you’re doing. Plan to know where you want to eat. Plan alternatives. Our hotel is near a smoothie place; so when the kids sleep in too late for breakfast, they grab a breakfast cookie and get a smoothie. The random mall was because no one could decide on a restaurant, so I found us a food court.
- Bring charging cords and adapters. More than you need.
- Do something unique. We visit the same area every year. We have to do the some of the same things every year. But I insist on at least 2 different things. This year I found outdoor art installations. Tornado A tried Mediterranean food. We did a sushi bar. I took them to a zoo and park we hadn’t been to since before Tornado A’s birth. Great times.
- Be patient. Stay the course. Teen brains are immature. Teens act weird. Last year Tornado A complained about EvErYtHiNg. He complained when I planned it, complained when we were going to do it, and complained while we were doing it. Then he would say it wasn’t that bad and thanked me for making him do it. Then the cycle would repeat. I kept my cool and made him go. This year Tornado E nearly threw a temper tantrum in the middle of Disneyland because he wanted alone time. We compromised. He got 30 minutes and met us for dinner. That day he also refused to say what he wanted for a meal, so I just ordered him something small. He reluctantly ate it and then mention that he was now hungry, could he please get some food.
In Nurture Shock: New Thinking about Children by Ashley Merryman and Po Bronson, the writers talked about the importance of making good memories as a family and how important that was for the sibling bond. So don’t give up on your teenagers. Just picture them as darling little toddlers and take a deep breath. It’s going to be great.
The Dean Conversation
July 3, 2023 — faemomWe don’t do things in the usual order in this family. And by this family, I mean my tornadoes and me. I finished the FASFA months before Tornado E even applied to his one school. It took months to apply only because Tornado E thought he had to make a decision that could not be unmade and set a course for his life that he must follow for the rest of his days.
At his age, I had an anxiety attack at the thought that as I neared 18, life would continue at a break neck pace until, before I knew it, I would be 80, staring down death with nothing to show for it.
“Hey, Fae, don’t you think your over-reacting by just a little. We still have two months of school and a play to put on.”
“If anything, I’m under-reacting. I could be dead of old age soon!”
“Or dead tomorrow. Then I can get that codpiece for my costume that I want.”
*Snort* “You know what. Go to hell.* I stood up and marched off the stage.
Really, it runs in the family.
So today we toured the campus with all the other potential high schoolers who still had several months to decide to put in applications. My knowledge of the campus only extends to the library, a few lecture halls, and the stadiums. Tornado E is obviously going to need more information.
As we stood listening to why students would need to talk to the Dean of Students, I whispered to Tornado E.
Me: You’re only called in to the Dean of Students if you do something wrong. Like say get caught dying a water fountain.
Tornado E: But you wouldn’t know that.
Me: Ours tried to be very intimidating. Father S begged for forgiveness and blamed it on stupidity. I just took the punishment. Your Dean is very nice. She talked at the parent orientation last week.
Tornado E: Huh.
Me: Word of advice, be kind to secretaries, front office staff, and janitors. They are helpful. The Dean’s secretary was nice. When I turned in my apology letter and cleaning fee, I asked her how long this would be on our record as both Father S and I wanted to go to grad school. “Honey, he wants these files to last forever, but in four years, no one will ever know what you did.”
Tornado E: Stay out of the dean’s office. Check.
Me: Don’t dye this fountain. It’s much older than the one I did. And Father S and I were on the Dean’s List for our high grades.
Guide: So twice a week they bring in dogs for students to play with. Once the Dean brought in miniature ponies and capybaras.
Tornado E: Capybaras!
Me: That’s my boy!
More Parenthood and Teacherhood
June 30, 2023 — faemomWhen I was in high school, I wasn’t a fan of William Shakespeare. I found him overrated and a hack. I did give him a chance. I read “Romeo and Juliet” and “Antony and Cleopatra” on my own in my freshmen year. I hated Shakespeare’s version of Cleopatra. I hated the women of “Midsummer Night’s Dream.” I hated Lady Macbeth. Surprisingly I loved Richard III. Somehow I got Hamlet.
When I voiced my opinions to one of my professors in college, he thought my opinions were based on my ignorance of Shakespeare. I’m sorry, what? So to prove his ass wrong, I took all the Shakespeare classes. I read every one of those damn plays and sonnets. I never let on to my Shakespeare professor what I thought of the Bard; hence, she thought I loved him. I left college believing Shakespeare was a hack. But he was also a genius.
Now I teach him. Because I have to. The man’s imprint on literature, all literature, is unfathomable. Also nerd humor. So much nerd humor.
So when my colleague said she decided to teach “Macbeth” this last year, I exclaimed, “I have MEMES! So many! I’ll sent them to you!”
Because this woman is my mother’s age and not tech savvy at all, she said, “What is a meme?”
“Do you live under a rock?”
“You’re a b—–.”
“Yes, well, memes have been around literally forever. Since humans have been able to make contemporary jokes based on pictures and words. Basically memes are taking one or more allusions and combining them in relative ways.”
“Why do you know so much?”
So I made her a PowerPoint of over 100 Macbeth Memes. It was a lot. But every time I wanted to stop, I found a new one. She ended up using them as bell work, where the kids would write about what they thought the meme meant and why it was relevant to the scene or character. Then she had the kids explain the meme to her because she often didn’t get the reference. It was great.
So when Tornado E said, “Remember how you wanted me to tell you when we read Shakespeare? We’re reading Macbeth.”
Me: I have MEMES! Like So Many Memes! I’m sending them to you!
Tornado E: Please don’t.
Me: Too late. Sent one.
Tornado E: Why are you like this?
Me: Oh! And you’re about to find out what I yell ‘The Birnam Wood is moving!’ every time you carry my Poet-tree for me at my school.
Tornado E: ….
Me: You’re going to love Macbeth.
So for weeks I sent him Macbeth memes every day. Poor kid.
Until one day:
Tornado E: Hey, remember when you told me to tell you when we’re reading Hamlet?
Me: It’s finally happened.
Tornado E: We’re starting it tomorrow.
Me: Ok. Sit. I need to explain something very important. If you don’t understand this, Hamlet will suck. Ok. Hamlet is your age. He’s no older than 22. He’s in college.
Tornado E: That’s not what my teacher says. She said he was like 30.
Me: That makes no sense. Hamlet is in college. He had a big fight with his dad before going back to college, and his dad died. So he’s dealing with the guilt. Then before he can even come home, his mom marries his dad’s brother. Which now Hamlet is mourning, filled with guilt, and this is over the top. And Hamlet should be king and he’s not. Why? Because he’s too young to be king.
Tornado E: Ok, this makes more sense.
Me: If Hamlet is 30, then he’s a loser, failure to launch, too immature to be trusted with anything. The whole play makes no sense. If he’s a young adult, then his indecisiveness makes sense because he’s too young to know what to do or who to trust. Ignore the age of any actor. Trust me.
Tornado E: Ok.
A week or two later.
Tornado E: I’ve decided to ask for your help. Because it seems you know what you’re talking about.
Me: And?
Tornado E: You seem to know more about Hamlet than my teacher.
Me: I think I should be offended somewhere.
Tornado E: My teacher wants me to analyze Hamlet through the Freudian lens.
Me: What the f? Are you kidding me? Freud? What is wrong with your teacher? That’s not even- No. Freud is wrong over most things. Like most things. And that interpretation is wrong. Like so wrong. And. It’s not even in there.
Tornado E: What are you even talking about?
Me: Ok. Freud coined the theory of Oedipus complex. That boys are secretly in love with their mothers.
Tornado E: What the hell?
Me: It’s been disproven. It’s very stupid once you think about it. Can mothers and sons have strong bonds? Absolutely. Does that mean that the boys want to screw their moms? No.
Tornado E: What was wrong with that man?
Me: The drugs. Any ways. There’s a modern interpretation of Hamlet that the reason Hamlet is upset that his mom marries his uncle is because he’s secretly in love with his mom.
Tornado E: Ewww.
Me: It’s not in the literature. It is in some of the movies. And it’s gross. But that’s not the reason Hamlet is angry. 1. Hamlet is mourning. His mom should be mourning. 2. His mom remarried quickly. Most kids have a hard time with their parents remarrying after a divorce or death. Then his mom marrying so quickly feels like a betrayal. 3. His mom marries his dad’s brother, leaving Hamlet to wonder if this relationship started before his dad was dead. So yeah, Hamlet has every right to be angry.
Tornado E: That makes sense. But I still have to use Freud.
Me: I got you covered. She said a Freudian lens, right? Freud was right about psychoanalysis, which is our past trauma can affect our present. He was right about the talking theory. So. How has Hamlet’s past shaped his decisions today? OR How would Hamlet handle the situation if he had someone who he could talk to and who could guide him or at least give him a better line of thinking?
Tornado E: Ok. I think I have an idea. You know you’re rather good at this.
Me: Yeah, it was my major. It’s my job.
A few weeks later.
Tornado E: Hey, I have to come up with a metaphor for Hamlet or an aspect of the play.
Me: Cool. Do you need help? I’ve got some ideas.
Tornado E: I already have one. A Burger King crown.
Me: Kid, you’re going to go far. I’m proud of you.
I Do Pay Attention to my Kids
June 29, 2023 — faemomThe summer is when I get things done. I don’t know if this is how other parents do it, but I don’t have a lot of free time in the school year to even call to make appointments much less take kids and myself to appointments. Which leads to weeks like this one with multiple appointments throughout the week and throughout the day.
Here I was sitting in the 2nd doctor’s office for the day, and I looked at Tornado A’s shoes.
Me: How long have you had that hole in your shoes?
Tornado A: A while. You noticed it like a month ago.
Me: What? You can’t have a hole in your shoes. We need to get you new shoes.
Tornado A: You said that a month ago. But I don’t need new shoes.
Me: You can’t walk around with a hole in your shoes.
Tornado A: Yeah, you said that already.
I wrote down the word shoes on my wrist.
This is with the doctor in the room and after conversations like these happened:
Me: Tornado S has been having ticks. But they are a lot less now that school is over.
Tornado S: I haven’t had one in weeks, Mama.
Me: Tornado A was complaining about headaches when he reads.
Tornado A: I haven’t had a headache while reading since 2nd quarter.
Me: Wait. But you said that’s why you didn’t like to read.
Tornado A: Yeah. But that was a while ago….
My grandma says that kids will make a liar out of you every time. Mine just make me look like I’m not paying attention to them.
Oh, and I took Tornado A to get shoes right after the doctor’s appointment. He just picked the same type he already had, just a size larger.
When Work and Parenthood Meet
June 28, 2023 — faemomWhen I first started teaching, I ended up in a poorly run charter school. But that charter school had optional Fridays. Students could come in and work on their assignments and get help from their teachers. None of these students needed help from their English teachers, so I would spend the morning grading.
One of these Fridays I had no childcare for Tornado A, who was 3 at the time. No preschool, no grandparents, uncles at work. I got permission to bring him to school, where I set us up in a lab, where he watched cartoons on a projector while I graded. Well, my English colleagues and I graded as no one else wanted to miss out on cartoons.
Tornado A was happy to interact with the students and staff. In the afternoon, he joined the meetings, looking at books and coloring. For years, Tornado A has been trying to get back into my classroom.
Tornado A: Can I go with you now?
Me: You have school.
….
Tornado A: Can I go with you now? You have school, and I don’t.
Me: Sweetheart, I have to teach the kids.
Tornado A: I can teach the kids!
Me: You are only in 1st grade.
….
Tornado A: Can I go with you now? I know what I can teach.
Me: Do you?
Tornado A: None of your students know how to read a clock. I could teach them! And I don’t have school, and you do!
Me: Huh. They don’t know how to read a clock. But I don’t think I can get permission to bring a 2nd grader to school.
….
And then the pandemic happened. And the lockdowns happened. And then online learning happened.
While it was stupid and hard, I did enjoy a lot of the aspects. My kids came over every day to do their school work, so I got to see them every day. I got to have lunch with my kids every day. I could get random hugs. My dad brought us all snack at 10am.
Tornado A finally got to go to school with me.
He would randomly pop into my class. (What are you doing here? I’m on break.) He would listen to stories. He would watch videos. He would answer questions.
Once I read a children’s book to my class. (A great way to teach protagonist, antagonist, and conflict.)
Me: Now that everyone has written down the protagonist and two inferences about them. Now type in the antagonist.
Tornado A: Mama! That book doesn’t have an antagonist!
The chat: Is he right? / He’s right? / Wait, is that true? /Miss!!!!
Me: *sigh* Thanks, Tornado A. Yes, he’s right. Some stories do not have a traditional antagonist.
Tornado A: I thought you said you didn’t do trick questions.
Me: That wasn’t a trick question.
The chat: I think he’s right, miss.
Me: All right. Next question. What is the conflict? *whispering to Tornado A* Don’t tell them the answer.
The chat: He can tell us if he wants.
And another time…. We were doing a Kahoot, and Tornado A stood with me, so they could see him in the camera. I asked a question.
Tornado A: Is the answer…. *whispers in my ear the correct answer*
Me: Yes.
The chat: He knows the answers!!!
Me: Sometimes I practice Kahoots and stories on him.
Student: *unmute (a rarity in my class)* Hey, kid, tell us the answers!
Another Student: *unmute* No. Kid, tell me the answers in the chat so I could win.
Another Student: *unmute* Kid, tell me in the chat. I have $5. Right here. It’s yours if you give me the answers.
Me: He’s not going to be able to deliver on that money.
Tornado A shook his head and continued to whisper answers into my ear.
….
There was a time a kid forgot to silence his mic and cussed. I have never seen teenage boys chew out their classmate over cussing. They did it faster than I could. “Not ok.” “Not cool.” “You know Miss has little kids.” “What the hell is wrong with you?” Sheepish reply: Sorry, Miss.
Then several kids passed on messages in the chat to Tornado A, whether they saw him or not. “Tell your son hi.” “Tell your son to have a good day.” “Tell your son to come to class tomorrow.”
Tornado A loved it all.
….
Then last year the AP tests for the district were held at my school. Tornado E took 2, and I told him to come visit me. The first test he was worried about getting in trouble.
Tornado E: What if they stop me in the halls?
Me: Tell them who you are and who I am.
Tornado E: What if they don’t believe me?
Me: Take off your mask. No one who sees your face will doubt your my kid.
So the second time, I wrote him and his bff hall passes.
During 5th period, the boys sneaked in as I was doing bell work.
Me: How the test go?
Tornado E: You promised candy. Also why does your hall smell like crap? Why is your room caution taped off?
BFF: The test was fine. Also I want to know what’s wrong with the hall.
Me: The boys bathroom is on the fritz again. (My room is across the hall.) No doors to lock. No barriers to put up that freshmen boys won’t ignore.
BFF: Does this happen often?
Me: The school is over 60 years old. So this year. At least once a week.
BFF: Oh, that sucks.
Tornado E: Candy?
I gave them the box of candy and directed the boys to sit in the back of the room while I went over grammar bell work with the class. I put on a video about the gender gap for background information on the poems were about to do.
Me: *whispering* How was the test?
Tornado E: *whispering* It was fine. It’s weird to see you teach.
Me: *whispering* I teach you all the time.
Tornado E *whispering* Not like this. We’re going to get lunch. Money?
Me: *whispering* Nice try. I gave you money this morning.
Tornado E: *whispering* Fine.
The boys get up, and we start walking towards the door by the side of them room while the class was focused on the video.
Tornado E: *whispering* You know if you read Cinderella backward, it’s a story about a woman knowing her place is in the kitchen.
I gently smacked his arm.
Me: *whispering* I taught you better than that.
He snickered. Outside the classroom I gave Tornado E a hug and sent the boys on their way.
I got back inside my classroom in time to change the video.
Boy: Who were those boys, Miss?
Me: My son and his best friend. They’re here taking the AP test.
Boy: Is your son smart?
Me: Pretty smart.
Boy: Which one was your son?
Girl: The one she hit obviously.
Me: You were supposed to be watching the video.
Another Girl: Your son is cute, Miss. He looks like Kurt Cobain.
I still do not know how to process this.
Me: Let’s watch another video before we read our next poem.
Teaching as a Parent
June 27, 2023 — faemomMy superpower, as I tell my students, is grammar. It is a very lame superpower. But I’m good at it. In my Catholic school, we had grammar class and a literature class. I excelled at both. Writing came as easy as understanding grammar. Spelling and typing are nearly the bane of my existence.
I still remember as a pissed off sophomore telling my English teacher I did not need to learn to spell because everything will have spellcheck by the time I’m an adult. Whiteboards do not have spellcheck. Those words haunt me every school day. Also first teacher to give me a B on a creative writing project. And I mean gave. She said my poem was too dark. It was the first time I earned a B in English, no matter that I did all my work, turned in corrected assignments, and did every piece of extra credit. I became an English teacher to spite her and all her kind.
Any ways. Writing and grammar were easy, but I have always known it was hard for other people. As far back as I can remember helping friends with essays and papers, I always broke everything down to a formula. Plug and play. Once they understood the formula backwards and forwards, I would show them how to break it and subvert it.
Clearly teaching English was a natural fit. My degree is in Creative Writing. I know my stuff.
Which is why it’s weird at home.
A few years back I was sitting at the dining room table with Tornado S, helping him write an essay. I explained the formula my school uses to write essays, which was a slight variation of how I had always understood writing.
My mom comes in to watch.
My mom: Are you sure that’s the best way to do that?
Me: Yes.
My mom: I don’t know….
Me: Mom, I teach English. This is how to teach writing an essay.
So this year. This scenario played out. Over and over.
Sitting with Tornado S, convincing him just to start on any late work.
Me: Well, let’s work on this essay for AP World History.
Tornado S: You can’t help me. You don’t even know what it’s about.
Me: Here’s the directions. *reading* Ok. So it’s a DBQ (Document Based Question). You need to use three of the documents. Here are the documents. Yeah. Ok. So what’s your opinion?
Tornado S: You know what a DBQ is?
Me: Um, yes. You know I went to college, right? You know I teach English, right?
Tornado S: But this is history!
Me: Yes. I have taken history classes in the past. I have had to write essays and papers in those classes.
Tornado S: But you don’t understand this.
Me: Ok. So you know that I teach English, right? Like how to right essays? It’s all the same format. I mean, there are differences but not enough to really derail the writing process.
Tornado S: Oh. Ok. Let’s do it.
After writing the essay together.
Tornado S: Wow. That wasn’t so hard. I should ask you for help more often.
Uh, yes?
Then weeks later.
Tornado E: *acting like a dead bug on the coach* I don’t know what to write for my college admissions. Do I even have to do it? Ugh.
Me: *Taking his computer and reading the directions* It’s not mandatory, but if you apply to more than one college, you probably just want to knock out the essay first.
Tornado E: It’s too hard.
Me: It’s just a personal essay. Those are fun. The original essay form was about expressing your personal opinions.
Tornado E: Mama….
Me: Fine. Well. Here’s one on your personal values. Like how our family has courage, intelligence, empathy. Pick 3 things you value.
Long, long pause.
Tornado E: Friendship, loyalty, honesty.
Me: *writing it down on the paper with lines in between* Now I want you to write 3 reasons why each value is important to you. *numbering the lines* For each reason, write down an example, either from your life or from a movie or book. Here. Take this. No sentences notes.
A long, long while later. Tornado E walks into my bedroom with the paper.
Tornado E: Here.
Me: *Looking it over* Great. Now when you write this introduce each value at the beginning of the paragraph and conclude why it’s important and feed it into the next value. Like ending the friendship paragraph mention the importance of loyal friends. Once you finish writing the 3 paragraphs, go back and write your introduction paragraph paraphrasing your introduction sentences from your body paragraphs. Then your conclusion is a remix of the introduction paragraph.
Tornado E: *gives skeptical look*
Me: If you get stuck, I can help you. Just write. You can’t make it better unless it’s on the page.
Tornado E: But I’ve already done all this work already.
Me: Uh-huh. Ok. Write the rough draft and you can play video games.
Long while later but not as long as I thought it would be.
Tornado E: Here, Mama. Read this please. *Hands me his laptop*
Me: For theme or grammar?
Tornado E: Um, both.
Me: *reads essay as Tornado E messes with my stuff* Excellent work. Just a few grammar errors. A few sentences need to be combined and a few words could use synonyms, but overall it’s really good.
Tornado E: Yeah, it wasn’t too hard once I followed your directions.
Me: Good.
Tornado E: I probably should trying do this with my other essays.
Me: Yeah, probably.
Like I tried to teach him several times.
Which leads me to wonder, does my family know what I do?
A Little Prom Story
June 22, 2023 — faemomNo one warned me about the expenses of senior year. Or least, if they did, I forgot about it. Every time I got some extra cash, I needed to pay for something for senior year. To a point. A congratulation ad in the yearbook was 100 bucks. And I laughed and laughed and laughed. Um, no.
I had mentioned to Tornado E that I wanted him to go to prom. Just for experience. He didn’t need to take a date. He should go to at least one school dance, and if it was only one dance, then it should be prom. (His school is horrible at planning events. At least 2 homecoming dances started while the homecoming game was still being played.)
Since I worked at a school, I noticed when prom tickets were available at my school.
Me: When’s prom?
Tornado E: I don’t know.
A week later.
Me: When’s prom?
Tornado E: No one said anything.
A week later.
Me: Hey, dude, when’s prom?
Tornado E: *I don’t know noise and shrug*
Me: Dude, there has to be signs.
I checked online. Several times. Nothing. God, the school is the worst in communication. Weeks go by,
Tornado E: Oh, hey. Um, prom is like next week. I’m thinking of going with my BFF.
Me: Like Friday or Saturday?
Tornado E: *I don’t know noise*
Me: Where?
Tornado E: *I don’t know noise.*
Me: How much are tickets?
Tornado E: *I don’t know noise.*
Me: I’ll pay for them if you buy them at school because they’re more expensive at the door.
Tornado E: Cool.
Me: But I need to know how much. … When do you want to get a tux?
Tornado E: *I don’t know*
Me: Hey, did I tell you that noise actually has a name and all languages have verbals, such as –
Tornado E exited stage left because we weren’t in a car where he would be trapped in a grammar lecture.
It only took 3 days of prodding for the price information and the exchange of cash. Luckily the venue was on the ticket. So was the date. Saturday.
Wednesday night.
Tornado E: So I was thinking we should go thrifting for my tux. That would be cool.
Me: ….
My dad: Actually I have pictures on my phone of jackets I thought you would like from a store at the mall.
Me: ?
Friday Night. (Between my extra grading for having 4 preps and Tornado S digging an academic hole, there’s not a lot of time.) I took Tornado E and Tornado S shopping for Tornado E’s prom clothes.
First we found the clearance section by accident. I unsuccessfully tried to convince one of the boys to let me buy the panther print jacket. “You don’t need to wear it for prom.” “It’s $15!” “Tornado S, it would be a great companion to your velvet burgundy jacket!” “Come on, look how awesome it is!”
Then we found the suit and tux area. Tornado E immediately found the silver tux jacket.
And I immediately realized that I had no idea how to make sure a suit fit. How long should the jacket be? How long do the sleeves have to be? How tight should it be? Um, huh.
Then I remembered how my college best friend gave a speech about his most embarrassing moment in his life. Having his pants rip up the back as he knelt during his services as an alter boy and how he heard a click of a camera. Now he dances, stretches, and moves around when trying his pants. Also my best friend is a bit of a fashion nut.
So I texted him: Hey. I need your help.
CBFF: What do you need? Bail money? A lawyer? Exorcist? My Latin is rusty.
Me: We’re looking for a tux for Tornado E, and I don’t know anything about how it should look.
CBFF: Send pictures.
First jacket picture.
CBFF: It’s a little tight, and a little short. Do they have a larger size?
Second jacket picture.
CBFF: Great fit. See how far the sleeves go down? Can he button it?
Me: Yes.
CBFF: Good.
Tornado E: I don’t need pants. I have my concert pants. But Mama, this jacket is kind of expensive.
It’s not. It was much less than what I budgeted for a tux. But there were other things.
Tornado S: *on his phone*
Tornado E wasn’t impressed with the selection of shirts, so I bought the jacket. We headed to the next store.
Tornado E: *holding up a horribly bright Hawaiian shirt* So is this what they wore in the 80s?
Me: I was in elementary school, so I have no idea. Also, no. You may not wear that with your tux.
Tornado E: It matches!
Me: No.
Tornado S: *on his phone*
Walking through the mall.
Me: This store has lots of tuxes. Let’s try here.
Tornado E: I will not shop at a store with a dress that monstrous.
Me: It’s a quinceañera dress. Be less judgemental.
Tornado E: They also have a white tux. No.
Me: *rolling my eyes*
Tornado S: *on his phone*
Next store.
Me: Ok, silver tie? Black shirt? What do you say? Look, shiny!
Tornado E: No.
Me: Fine. You’re no fun. What are you thinking?
Tornado E: That red shirt from the first store and the black tie.
Me: Well, I’ll just grab a black tie from here. Holy Crap! It’s $50! Um, we’ll go find a tie somewhere else.
Tornado S: *on his phone*
Back at the first store.
Tornado E selected a burgundy shirt, and I made him try it on against his wishes. I also made him show me the combination, against his wishes.
I texted a picture to my CBFF. What do you think?
CBFF: Good color combination. It looks good on him. He did a good job.
Tornado E: You know I’m going to need to get shoes.
Crap.
Tornado E: But let’s do that tomorrow. Let’s get food.
Tornado S: *on his phone*
Tornado E: Hey, Mama. Before I go to Dad’s, can I get your car paints? BFF and I are going to decorate the car for prom.
The next day. In the afternoon. After several texts of “get home now if you want new shoes.”
Tornado E showed up with the windows decorated with a frame of dots and the name of the car written on the back window. The Snazz Wagon. Huh.
Tornado E: So I was thinking I should get a haircut.
A what? Oh happy day.
(Over lock down my boys refused haircuts. Until the start of school, where my mom buzzed their heads. A 1 all over. Except after doing Tornado A’s hair, starting on Tornado S’s hair, my mom forgot to put a cover on the razor and shaved a strip right to the skin. Tornado E refused to have his hair buzzed.)
Hair cut place.
Hairstylist: (She’s new to the place.) So you like long hair?
Tornado E: Yeah.
The other hairstylists who have shaved my boys’ hair for years all began to laugh.
Tornado E has ringlets. He likes his haircut to his chin. He looks like a Lancelot. If he doesn’t shave for a while, he could pull off Errol Flynn’s Robin Hood. Tornado E is not vain and still forgets to do basic things like shave or wash his face.
Next department store. Time running out. No shoes. But a cheaper black tie. I buy this more affordable black tie.
Shoe store.
Please don’t like the Cole Haans. Please don’t like the Cole Haans. Please don’t like the Cole Haans.
He did not like the Cole Haans. Also:
Tornado E: Holy Sh*t. These shoes are expensive!
Me: Don’t cuss. There are Littles. Yeah, your dad likes that brand.
Tornado E: Why?
Me: *I don’t know noise*
Two shoes later. New socks. We buy shoes.
I take him home, and he showers and shaves. He gets dressed. My boy in a tux.
You know what.
Tornado E and his BFF showed up at midnight to say hi and discuss their lit teacher’s bad take on Hamlet. And it’s horrible. And discuss AP Government with me before going to the BFF’s house to play video games.
Tornado E: Oh and I had like 6 cream puffs.
That’s my boy.
Faemom 