Well after months of preparation Henry's elementary school production is now a moment for the history books. The "Mousical" was staged three times, once for the littler ones, yesterday afternoon for the 3rd-5th graders and last night for all of the obnoxious parents, grandparents, siblings, and neighbors. In what I can only describe as a true stroke of genius the mastermind of the event, Mr. Scheuer, raised the house lights and said to the audience,"Let's just get it out of the way-this is your turn to wave at your kids and let them wave at you."
So we all got a little goofy and then the play began. As far as I'm concerned it could have been Hamlet at the Globe for all the sincerity the kids and their teachers poured into the production. This being his last year in the school I found myself becoming very emotional watching these "big kids" perform, sweating in felt mouse ears under the hot lights, trying not to fidget or play with their tails. The performance was not perfect-but it was exquisite in its imperfections. There were missed lines, stumbled over words, North Carolina British accents that came and went with the imaginary tide, and an errant double decker bus.
It was simply divine.
I told Henry after the play that I was so proud of him, not because of his performance, which was delightful, but because of his courage. This week he had a hard time going to sleep on two nights and fretted over the possibility of forgetting his lines or missing his cues. On the nights where he climbed into our bed Bob and I reinforced to him that everyone gets nervous before a performance. Actors on Broadway, surgeons in the O.R., me before I start a new patient in the clinic. Those nerves are a part of life and so many people miss out on life because they are too scared to get on their own stage.
I told Henry I was proud of his performance, but that his courage was what I admired most, because I knew he was scared to get up there at 11 years old in front of the whole school wearing mouse ears and a British policeman's cap, but he did it anyway. And that kind of courage makes all the difference between a life well lived and a life of "what if?"
When Henry's father died I was 31 and a college drop out who hadn't managed to drop back in. I was scared, sad, angry, overwhelmed and grief stricken, but I knew then that this was my only chance to go back to school and become a nurse. So I reapplied and come August I was sitting in the front row of Anatomy and Physiology.
Over and over again people told me,"I just don't know how you do it." "You're amazing." Frankly, it was a huge source of annoyance to me, because I didn't think I had a choice. In retrospect I can see that what they admired wasn't me going back to school or becoming a nurse or caring for the boys. They admired my courage in the face of what seemed unimaginable to bear. They admired the fact that I was still getting up in the morning and for many I think that alone would have been enough for me to accomplish.
I look back now on days where I am tired or the boys are being miserable little beasts and I think how far we've come, literally and figuratively, and I'm grateful for the grace to keeping getting up on the stage of life, alone or as an ensemble cast of characters. I don't want to miss my chance to steal the show.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Earning and Learning What Our Culture Values
New list out on TIME.com this morning shares the ten top earning college degrees and the ten lowest paying degrees.
Highest Earning Majors
Read more: http://www.time.com/time/specials/packages/completelist/0,29569,2073703,00.html#ixzz1NHB0KOBS
Highest Earning Majors
Lowest-Earning Majors
- Health and Medical Preparatory Programs
- Visual and Performing Arts
- Communication-Disorder Sciences and Services
- Studio Arts
- Drama and Theater Arts
- Social Work
- Human Services and Community Organizations
- Theology and Religious Vocations
- Early-Childhood Education
- Counseling and Psychology
I was stunned to see that 8 of the top 10 are Engineering degrees, not shocked though that all of the top ten require a heavy dose of Math and Science.
To be sure, we need engineers and I know that the work they do is invaluable for every facet of life, so I don't have any problem with them being well compensated for their work. What disheartened me most is the second list. The 10 lowest earning college degrees. There is nothing shocking here either-I know how poorly people in these professions are paid, but I can't ignore it and I can't stop thinking about the constant message the low wages and often rotten working conditions of these professions sends out to students pursuing their educations and to the world in general about what our culture values most and what it values least.
The Washington Post in relating this same information actually had the nerve to refer to some of these majors as "Fluffy." Pardon me? I dare any electrical engineer to go on a home visit with one of my social worker friends and remove a battered, lice ridden child from drug addled, abusive parents. It is with a true sense of pride that I see how many young men and women continue to pursue professional life as social workers, knowing that when they graduate they will have to pursue a 2-3 year graduate degree and will still earn less than a first year computer programmer.
I am not even asking for people in the humanities to earn the same as engineers, but can't we at least make sure that people who go to college and earn a degree and work for a living in their profession actually be paid a wage that does not require them to work two or even three jobs to sustain a family? Forget the nonsense of competing for bigger houses or cars. I mean just being able to raise a couple kids, a dog, pay for karate lessons, and save for retirement.
Our society is dependent on the variety of professions that spring from math and science, but it is also dependent on the humanities, fine arts, and helping professions of all kinds. The world needs art of every kind to inspire everyone from engineers to physicians and we should be happy to pay for it. Every child should get to experience art firsthand and more importantly, try their hand at it themselves with an art teacher or artist.
Our society needs to have advocates for those most vulnerable and they should be compensated well for the emotional and physical work they do day in and day out. Social workers reach every kind of person in every stage of life and without them millions of children with disabilities, aging adults, people with mental illness, and every other kind person in need would go without the support they need to be successful. Two individual examples from my own little corner of the world, Mr. Scheuer and Mrs. Mountz.
Over the weekend and for the last 6 weeks the kids at Henry's elementary school have been preparing to star in an original musical production. There have been myriad rehearsals, set buildings, and costumes to prep and the two adults most responsible for all of this are an inherently goofy and inspiring music teacher who wrote the play and the score, and the school art teacher who helped Henry create his own Andy Warhol portrait. Saturday I watched Mr.Scheuer herd 50 elementary age kids through a rehearsal and direct parent helpers without once losing his temper. When one student was obnoxiously noisy while others were performing he called attention to the quiet ones without shaming the noisier and got the quiet he was looking for at no expense to anyone's pride.
In truth, Henry joined chorus this year on the sheer exuberance of Mr. Scheuer alone. He can't sing like Placido, and will very likely never sing for any kind of recording, but Mr. Scheuer has reinforced and rewarded Henry based on his participation all year along. In fact one afternoon I got home and Henry proudly announced that he had gotten Skittles from Mr. Scheuer during rehearsal that morning. When I asked why he said, "Cause I'm so enthusiastic!"
Every child deserves to have a teacher like Mr. Scheuer and be exposed to the way music can make you feel physically and emotionally, the way music moves you body and soul is a gift worth without price. As for the art teacher Mrs. Mountz, to say she is dedicated is simply an understatement. She has collected boxes and managed to keep a swirling group of parents and volunteer middle schoolers on task and painting and building for the better part of 8 hours Saturday. By showtime tomorrow the Kindergartners will see a working version of Big Ben and a rolling double decker bus. (I myself helped put the cockroaches in the villains kitchen.) Like Mr. Scheuer she makes progress with unruly kids by reaffirming their positives and she manages to keep a sense of humor when all that stands between her and sanity is a cadre of hormonal fifth graders and a sea of tempera paint.
Neither one of these teachers is going to get a financial reward for all their efforts-money doesn't motivate their work-the work and their love of art and children motivates them to devote almost every moment of their free time to productions like this, a production I know will be remembered fondly by every child included in the adventure. When Henry auditioned and got a call back he ultimately got the role he coveted most, police chief. But since the play is set in London he is Constable Wiggins and since the play is about a lost mouse, he is in fact, a mouse police captain. In Henry's mind this was, in fact, a major casting coup, "Mom, I get two costumes! I'm a MOUSE and a POLICEMAN!"
When Henry talks about school he says 5th grade is his favorite year ever and I know in large part it is do to the extra effort of two artists who know their real value no matter what price our culture places on them. As a nurse I get compensated with a living wage, yes, I could earn more, but what I earn is enough because I love what I do, I am rewarded emotionally, professionally, and in so many other ways by the work I do and I know the work I do is valued by our culture at large. Professionals who share the joy of learning, the arts, speak for the least of these, entertain, help others find their voice, and tend to the spiritual health of their communities should be lauded and compensated like their work means something.
Because without it all the well engineered inventions in the world will be meaningless if the culture surrounding them does not inspire creativity, celebrates all kinds of gifts, and is willing to pay the price.
When Henry talks about school he says 5th grade is his favorite year ever and I know in large part it is do to the extra effort of two artists who know their real value no matter what price our culture places on them. As a nurse I get compensated with a living wage, yes, I could earn more, but what I earn is enough because I love what I do, I am rewarded emotionally, professionally, and in so many other ways by the work I do and I know the work I do is valued by our culture at large. Professionals who share the joy of learning, the arts, speak for the least of these, entertain, help others find their voice, and tend to the spiritual health of their communities should be lauded and compensated like their work means something.
Because without it all the well engineered inventions in the world will be meaningless if the culture surrounding them does not inspire creativity, celebrates all kinds of gifts, and is willing to pay the price.
Read more: http://www.time.com/time/specials/packages/completelist/0,29569,2073703,00.html#ixzz1NHB0KOBS
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Friday, May 20, 2011
Peace, Antisemitism, and a Palestinian State
Today Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu will be meeting with President Obama at the White House. The timing is awkward given that yesterday President Obama laid out his vision for the Middle East and North Africa, including returning boundaries in the contentious Israeli/Palestinian border back to there 1967 locations. Kind of like telling your mother in law you never intend to bear grandchildren for her and then having a cookout the next day.
To say that this is a hot potato diplomacy wise is an epic understatement. Realistically, making any suggestions as to where the lines are drawn in the Israeli/Palestinian land disputes is akin to political and social suicide. Someone at some point will brand Obama as an antisemite and then the fur will fly and once again any reasoned conversation will give way to extremist nonsense that benefits no one, most especially the people who populate the coveted real estate.
Much like the abortion debate in the U.S. it seems impossible to have a reasoned, thoughful conversation on the topic of the Israeli/Palestinian conflict. Dating back to before many in the dialogue today were even born the debate is rife with feelings of betrayal and anger-much of it directed at groups of individuals who had nothing to do with the centuries old conflict. The debate has become a pivotal issue for politicians seeking backing and more important, money from PACs and private donors with deep pockets and deep ties to Israel.
I don't pretend to be an expert on Arab-Israeli politics. But I do know that for my entire life there has never been a moment of true rest for that part of the world. There is no one my age living in that part of the world that knows what it would be like to live without the specter of violence overhanging every walk to school, to a mosque, to sit Shiva for a lost relative. Every day suicide bombers, gunfire, bloackades, threats, streetfights, discrimination, food shortages, mandatory evacuations or evictions.
A life where by age 5 you have seen a bloodied body in the street and been told over and over again that you are worth more or less than another child who is of the opposite persuasion-when really, all you are is a child stuck in the no man's land of conflict that adults have created and perpetuated.
Therein lies the problem for both Israelis and Pa;estinians-no one alive in either group has any idea what peace and quiet look like and no one is willing to believe that committing faith and energy to a true peaceful resolution of the confict is really worth it. for years I struggled with trying to build healthy relationships with people-I was stuck behaving the way I always behaved in my intimate relationships with family-crazy alcoholic family nuts. I sought out crzy, broken birds to be in relationship with, because even though it was misery-it was a misery I knew how to live with-not an unknown quantity to be reckoned with or learned.
In simple terms that is the crux of the conflict between Israel and Palestine-no one has any idea what it would be like to simply stop fighting over neighborhoods and boundary lines and simply let one another live. The very thought of putting down their arms and simply sharing power is too threatening to even consider and so anone who suggests Israel relent is antisemitic and any one who suggests Palestinians share leadership with Israelis is branded anti Islamic.
Enough.
The children born this morning to Palestinian and Israeli mothers deserve the opportunity to play in the street without dodging bullets, have safe homes not dictated by arbitrary politics, worship with their grandparents without fear of retribution. And the only way that true lasting peace can come between Israel and Palestine is if the leaders of other nations can speak to the need for compromise without being branded Anti Semitic. Name calling gets no one anywhere, and thousands of years of violent history should be proof enough for anyone.
To say that this is a hot potato diplomacy wise is an epic understatement. Realistically, making any suggestions as to where the lines are drawn in the Israeli/Palestinian land disputes is akin to political and social suicide. Someone at some point will brand Obama as an antisemite and then the fur will fly and once again any reasoned conversation will give way to extremist nonsense that benefits no one, most especially the people who populate the coveted real estate.
Much like the abortion debate in the U.S. it seems impossible to have a reasoned, thoughful conversation on the topic of the Israeli/Palestinian conflict. Dating back to before many in the dialogue today were even born the debate is rife with feelings of betrayal and anger-much of it directed at groups of individuals who had nothing to do with the centuries old conflict. The debate has become a pivotal issue for politicians seeking backing and more important, money from PACs and private donors with deep pockets and deep ties to Israel.
I don't pretend to be an expert on Arab-Israeli politics. But I do know that for my entire life there has never been a moment of true rest for that part of the world. There is no one my age living in that part of the world that knows what it would be like to live without the specter of violence overhanging every walk to school, to a mosque, to sit Shiva for a lost relative. Every day suicide bombers, gunfire, bloackades, threats, streetfights, discrimination, food shortages, mandatory evacuations or evictions.
A life where by age 5 you have seen a bloodied body in the street and been told over and over again that you are worth more or less than another child who is of the opposite persuasion-when really, all you are is a child stuck in the no man's land of conflict that adults have created and perpetuated.
Therein lies the problem for both Israelis and Pa;estinians-no one alive in either group has any idea what peace and quiet look like and no one is willing to believe that committing faith and energy to a true peaceful resolution of the confict is really worth it. for years I struggled with trying to build healthy relationships with people-I was stuck behaving the way I always behaved in my intimate relationships with family-crazy alcoholic family nuts. I sought out crzy, broken birds to be in relationship with, because even though it was misery-it was a misery I knew how to live with-not an unknown quantity to be reckoned with or learned.
In simple terms that is the crux of the conflict between Israel and Palestine-no one has any idea what it would be like to simply stop fighting over neighborhoods and boundary lines and simply let one another live. The very thought of putting down their arms and simply sharing power is too threatening to even consider and so anone who suggests Israel relent is antisemitic and any one who suggests Palestinians share leadership with Israelis is branded anti Islamic.
Enough.
The children born this morning to Palestinian and Israeli mothers deserve the opportunity to play in the street without dodging bullets, have safe homes not dictated by arbitrary politics, worship with their grandparents without fear of retribution. And the only way that true lasting peace can come between Israel and Palestine is if the leaders of other nations can speak to the need for compromise without being branded Anti Semitic. Name calling gets no one anywhere, and thousands of years of violent history should be proof enough for anyone.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Addiction Apologists
By the the time I post this most everyone in the world will know that Arnie couldn't keep it in his pants and fathered a child outside of his marriage. Probably not the only straw on Maria's back, but I'm guessing it probably lit the match as far as her decision to separate from him formally.
For his part, Mr. Schwarzenegger has been appropriately contrite and apologetic in the press, no looking for redemption or offering explanation as to his shitheel behavior. This doesn't make it any nicer, but in contrast to some of the other celebrity divorces of late it is certainly an improvement. Now for something completely different.
Meet Jesse James, tattoo afficionado, chopper creator, loser ex husband of Academy Award winning actress Sandra Bullock. "I cheated on my wife. Guess what millions of men do that." Indeed they do, but most at least have the good grace to appear contrite and keep their mouths shut. They do not go on to write a tell all book detailing their conquests or describing in detail their preferences and the fact that good old Sandy isn't quite as wild in the sack as say the newer tattoed broad he is currently bedding.
Is it too much to ask to just, SHUT UP.
I do not care that you had a miserable childhood, get in line.
I do not care that you have an addicition. In fact-shut up about your addiction and recovery. You are the reason people and lawmakers do not believe in funding treatment for addiction. If you were truly in recovery you would be making amends to your former wife, your children and your friends. You would not be airing out every bit of dirty laundry, sexual prowess, and history of trysts to the world and making a profit off of it.
There are hundreds of millions of people in recovery and they have worked and continue to work to stay sane, sober, and healthy. They do not seek the limelight, they seek real life, unimpaired by their addiction (s) and you sir are not in recovery and the only steps you are working are the ones that lead further down the path of no return. I believe sexual addiction is a real problem, and I believe recovery is possible for anyone. I do not believe for a moment that Jesse James is in recovery and I am tired of him and others of his ilk bastardizing the process of healing with their moronic, self serving myopia.
At the heart of it all addiction is the most devastating form of selfishness and self absorption. It takes years to retrain and refocus a brain, body and spirit to living life differently. Not 6 months, a new girlfriend and a fresh tattoo. So Jesse take a moment, go to a meeting, get a new sponsor, and SHUT UP.
For his part, Mr. Schwarzenegger has been appropriately contrite and apologetic in the press, no looking for redemption or offering explanation as to his shitheel behavior. This doesn't make it any nicer, but in contrast to some of the other celebrity divorces of late it is certainly an improvement. Now for something completely different.
Meet Jesse James, tattoo afficionado, chopper creator, loser ex husband of Academy Award winning actress Sandra Bullock. "I cheated on my wife. Guess what millions of men do that." Indeed they do, but most at least have the good grace to appear contrite and keep their mouths shut. They do not go on to write a tell all book detailing their conquests or describing in detail their preferences and the fact that good old Sandy isn't quite as wild in the sack as say the newer tattoed broad he is currently bedding.
Is it too much to ask to just, SHUT UP.
I do not care that you had a miserable childhood, get in line.
I do not care that you have an addicition. In fact-shut up about your addiction and recovery. You are the reason people and lawmakers do not believe in funding treatment for addiction. If you were truly in recovery you would be making amends to your former wife, your children and your friends. You would not be airing out every bit of dirty laundry, sexual prowess, and history of trysts to the world and making a profit off of it.
There are hundreds of millions of people in recovery and they have worked and continue to work to stay sane, sober, and healthy. They do not seek the limelight, they seek real life, unimpaired by their addiction (s) and you sir are not in recovery and the only steps you are working are the ones that lead further down the path of no return. I believe sexual addiction is a real problem, and I believe recovery is possible for anyone. I do not believe for a moment that Jesse James is in recovery and I am tired of him and others of his ilk bastardizing the process of healing with their moronic, self serving myopia.
At the heart of it all addiction is the most devastating form of selfishness and self absorption. It takes years to retrain and refocus a brain, body and spirit to living life differently. Not 6 months, a new girlfriend and a fresh tattoo. So Jesse take a moment, go to a meeting, get a new sponsor, and SHUT UP.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Making Peace
My favorite patient died on May 1st. I discovered this on Saturday night about 4 a.m. after I finished writing he and his sweet wife a little note to say hello. I went to look up his address and had the wind knocked out of me by the word deceased on his facepage.
He was 83 years old and had been diagnosed with a form of lung cancer over the winter. He had a short course of treatment, lost his hair, lost a little weight, otherwise he did ok. At the end of his treatment though his doctors recommend he do 25 radiation treatments "Just to be sure." He wasn't happy about it. He didn't want to do it, but at 83 he was used to the doctors knowing what they were talking about and so he resigned himself to doing the treatments.
But he also looked to me and the other nurses who cared for him to confirm that he should do it. Now, I sit here feeling like a traitor to him and his precious wife. I feel like I gave him the company line, when what I should have said was, "Well you are 83 years old and you have had chemo and if you don't want to do the radiation just tell them no and make peace with your decision."
But I didn't. I said something like,"Well if the doctors think this will give you the best chance at survival you should go ahead and do it." So, his life ended on a ventilator, in an Intensive Care Unit, with pneumonitis and pneumonia likely brought on at least in part by the damn radiation treatments and here I sit, complicit in the crime.
No, I didn't kill him-but did I do enough to make sure he knew the decision was his and not the doctor's? Not his wife's Not his cancer's or his grandchildren's or his priest's. The decision to endure radiation treatments should not have been accompanied by the external pressure of his healthcare providers-we should have given him all the details, respected his choices, and let him go home for 6 months, a year, or a decade.
But we didn't, he got pushed by all of us into radiation, and now he's dead.
The day I accepted by original hospice nursing position I was working an overnight shift in a San Antonio ICU and the patient was an 80 year old man who had been "found down" in his nursing home, and got "brought back" before anyone checked to see if he had a DNR. As luck would have it, he did. But by the time anyone saw it the poor SOB had been shocked, intubated, and was now spending his last miserable freaking days on a ventilator being continuously dialyzed, and that night every time I suctioned secretions from his lungs I chanted to myself, "This is why I am going to hospice, this is why I am going to hospice...."
And I did. I worked in Hospice for close to three years with adults and children and it was rewarding and challenging and I loved it-but between remarriage and two deaths at home on hospice I had begun to feel like everyday was "Take your sickle to work day" and I needed a change. So I came back to the medical and surgical side of things and there isn't a day that goes by where I do not find myself torn between telling people what they want to hear, what they need to hear, and what I can responsibly tell them as a part of their healthcare team.
This time I didn't do it right and now I am left with my grief, my conscience, and the hope that I will do better next time. The next time you are a patient remember that the people prescribing and providing your care are human too and therefore your care is inherently flawed.
Clinically he should have had the radiation treatments, but realistically, an 83 year old man with a 50% survival rate after chemotherapy should have been allowed to go home and read the paper and flirt with his wife. Next time I hope I err more on the side of flirtation than radiation.
He was 83 years old and had been diagnosed with a form of lung cancer over the winter. He had a short course of treatment, lost his hair, lost a little weight, otherwise he did ok. At the end of his treatment though his doctors recommend he do 25 radiation treatments "Just to be sure." He wasn't happy about it. He didn't want to do it, but at 83 he was used to the doctors knowing what they were talking about and so he resigned himself to doing the treatments.
But he also looked to me and the other nurses who cared for him to confirm that he should do it. Now, I sit here feeling like a traitor to him and his precious wife. I feel like I gave him the company line, when what I should have said was, "Well you are 83 years old and you have had chemo and if you don't want to do the radiation just tell them no and make peace with your decision."
But I didn't. I said something like,"Well if the doctors think this will give you the best chance at survival you should go ahead and do it." So, his life ended on a ventilator, in an Intensive Care Unit, with pneumonitis and pneumonia likely brought on at least in part by the damn radiation treatments and here I sit, complicit in the crime.
No, I didn't kill him-but did I do enough to make sure he knew the decision was his and not the doctor's? Not his wife's Not his cancer's or his grandchildren's or his priest's. The decision to endure radiation treatments should not have been accompanied by the external pressure of his healthcare providers-we should have given him all the details, respected his choices, and let him go home for 6 months, a year, or a decade.
But we didn't, he got pushed by all of us into radiation, and now he's dead.
The day I accepted by original hospice nursing position I was working an overnight shift in a San Antonio ICU and the patient was an 80 year old man who had been "found down" in his nursing home, and got "brought back" before anyone checked to see if he had a DNR. As luck would have it, he did. But by the time anyone saw it the poor SOB had been shocked, intubated, and was now spending his last miserable freaking days on a ventilator being continuously dialyzed, and that night every time I suctioned secretions from his lungs I chanted to myself, "This is why I am going to hospice, this is why I am going to hospice...."
And I did. I worked in Hospice for close to three years with adults and children and it was rewarding and challenging and I loved it-but between remarriage and two deaths at home on hospice I had begun to feel like everyday was "Take your sickle to work day" and I needed a change. So I came back to the medical and surgical side of things and there isn't a day that goes by where I do not find myself torn between telling people what they want to hear, what they need to hear, and what I can responsibly tell them as a part of their healthcare team.
This time I didn't do it right and now I am left with my grief, my conscience, and the hope that I will do better next time. The next time you are a patient remember that the people prescribing and providing your care are human too and therefore your care is inherently flawed.
Clinically he should have had the radiation treatments, but realistically, an 83 year old man with a 50% survival rate after chemotherapy should have been allowed to go home and read the paper and flirt with his wife. Next time I hope I err more on the side of flirtation than radiation.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)