At a time where justice seems to becoming more myth than reality I have been following the proceedings related to Jared Loughner, the young man accused of shooting Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords and 18 others. He has been diagnosed with schizophrenia and in May the courts decided he was not competent to stand trial for the 49 counts against him, including the deaths of 6 people. He was transferred with little fanfare to a federal facility in Springfield, Missouri in June and since the 21st has been receiving psychotrophic medications against his will.
His attorney's argued that the federal facility did not provide enough evidence or reasons for medicating Loughner and that he should not be forced to continue the medications without a judge's approval. Wednesday, Federal Judge, Larry Burns ruled in favor of the doctors treating Loughner,"I have no reason to disagree with the doctors here," Burns said. "They labor in this vineyard every day." Amen brother, amen.
I admit to being conflicted about how we care for a man in Loughner's condition. I am too well aware of how limited mental health services are in the U.S. and how easy it is for someone with a severe mental illness to spiral out of control when they are off of medication. I know also, how these medications can impact a person's daily life and the plethora of symptoms the medications cause while treating the voices, tics, visions, and panoply of misery that is schizophrenia.
Long before my nursing degree I worked with adults with mental illness who were on parole for the Texas Department of Corrections, the vast majority also had a substance abuse problem due to their years of self medication to cope with the aforementioned mental illness. My job in a nutshell was to act as their guide back into the land of people who take care of themselves outside of an institution. How to ride the bus, buy groceries, take medication on time, go to AA, and meet with your parole officer were all part of our lessons, as well as reminders like, "Have you bathed this week?" and "No, you cannot wear that shirt again unless you go to the laundromat."
I did home visits to check up on their self care at everywhere from seedy motels, homeless shelters, the Salvation Army, boarding houses, group homes, and occasionally squallid apartments that would make sex offenders hope for death. I went with my clients to their parole appointments, to apply for social security benefits, and to get blood pressure medicine or teeth pulled. What I learned every single day in that job was that no matter how shitty I thought my life was...I had nothing to complain about.
The few clients I had who still had family members actively engaged in their lives were either ill themselves or looking to "borrow" money from them. Most reported their family members were dead, or simply did not want anything to do with them any more. Their families were fed up, tired, emotionally and/or financially exhausted and when the clients ended up in the pen, that was it.
The bulk of the individuals I worked with ended up in jail because they were accidental criminals. A prime example was a lovely gentleman named Wilbert, he was in his mid sixties, had been diagnosed with schizophrenia for all of his adult life and lived with his mama on the north side of Fort Worth, quietly tending her tomatoes, going to church with mama twice a week, and
staying away from alcohol and drugs.
Then his mama died, and Wilbert inherited her home. Not too long after he stopped taking his medicine and the neighborhood crack dealer offered up friendship as well as crack cocaine to calm his new buddy's voices and lickety split Wilbert had a new best friend. Fast forward six months and Wilbert's house was now the neighborhood crack den and when the police arrived everyone was smart enough to get out except... Wilbert.
By the time I met him, Wilbert had served three years in prison for dealing crack cocaine even though he could not tie his own shoelaces, manage his medications, ride the bus independently, or smoke a cigarette without setting the couch on fire. Quite the criminal mastermind.
Wilbert was fairly mellow when he took his medications, when he didn't he became very paranoid and hid from the world. He was never violent. Many of the people I worked with could become very violent when they became paranoid or heard voices and for my part I had no trouble imagining feeling pretty violent myself if I heard someone repeatedly calling me names or singing nursery rhymes, or thought I could hear my dead baby crying all night.
There was a constant pendulum swinging in the lives of the people I worked with between medication and non medication and sometimes over medication. They clients I worked with had limited education, less than limited insight, and getting them engaged in the process of finding just the right dose of medication was a battle punctuated by frustration on their part as well as that of their psychiatrist.
Day in and day out I saw that even though these people were legally adults they were not capable of making healthy choices for themselves on a consistent basis and while that was certainly their choice the consequences were shared by the entire community around them. No antipsychotic medication for some of these people meant public drunkeness, robbery, violence, and further costs to everyone for medical care and legal interventions. How does a community balance freedom from medical intervention with the need to provide a safe healthy community for the rest of its' citizens?
Jared Loughner is mentally ill, and absolutely no one denies it. Neither the prosecution nor the defense has debated his need for care or debated his inability to stand trial for his devastating actions. Rather the debate is about how much medication and what kind of evaluation is thorough enough before medications are forcibly administered to an incompetent adult.
Loughner's attorneys have stated that the physicians at the federal facility medicated him without a full and proper evaluation and that he is being overmedicated against his will. Here's the kicker though-how do you evaluate a man you have only just met, who has reacted violently to his own attorneys and family members and can't or won't assist in his own care? At some point, push has to come to shove, and prescriptions are written. So much of working with these patients is based on observation before and after medication and developing a plan of care that results in optimal health and behavior.
What would be the best possible outcome for this whole sorry mess is if our elected officials, people who vote and love those with mental illness, and budget bureaucrats would come together and realize that there will be more mass shootings and forced medications, suicide attempts and psychotic episodes, jail time and institutionalizations if we do not stop treating mental illness like the common cold.
Major mental illness does not blow in and stay for a week or two of misery. Major mental illness is not "the blues" or "feeling down." Major mental illness effects every single part of a person's life and therefore it effects every single person they come in contact with, every member of their family, workplace, school and it must be managed daily just like diabetes and hypertension. People with major mental illness deserve and require daily support to maintain their health, to stay on the proper dosage of medications, and to prevent harm to not only themselves, but to their communities. That harm isn't just physical, it's financial, legal, and emotional and the cost in dollars and cents is astronomical.
Case management works, there are multiple examples of ACT (Assertive Community Treatment) teams that work providing daily medication monitoring and support for people. The only problem is that these programs work so well people are able to hold down jobs and manage large portions of their lives independently-so they no longer qualify for the services that helped them get better. Surprise, surprise months later many are off medication, hospitalized, or in jail because they no longer had the support they needed to stay well and the cycle begins again. Except this time they have to recuperate or rehabilitate to a lower level of functioning because their brain has been even further impaired by mental illness.
Case management is expensive-but far less costly in money and human lives than this repeated roller coaster of mental health devastation. Time and again we are presented with an opportunity to change business as usual. When will enough be enough?
Read more: http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,2080687,00.html#ixzz1QnBakmAz
Judge: Loughner Can Be Forcibly Medicated
Friday, July 1, 2011
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Call me Corny
Last night New York became only the sixth state in the U.S. to legalize marriage between same gender couples. The Empire State Building was lit up with rainbow colors, crowds took to the street to sing and celebrate throughout Manhattan and the five boroughs and according to the New York Times, Marriage licenses could be granted in late July, barring any attempts to block the new law.
Throughout the week there have been opponents and proponents of the law all over television throughout the U.S. and commentators have been abuzz on the web. Friday morning I watched a three minute segment from Keith Olbermann and was overwhelmed by the way he just cut to the heart of the matter.
Most days I care for an assortment of adult patients with cancer. Many are older and simply interested in comfort, some are younger than I and hope for remission and the chance to dance with little girls at their grown up weddings, or see young boys become men themselves. Those that are most hopeful are usually the least self motivated of the patients I meet-motivated by their abiding love for others, rather than fear or selfishness for one more moment of their life. Their life is no longer about them, but about those they love.
To be sure they are enduring often brutal treatment for their health, but they are inspired by the love they give and receive. The kind of love that is exponential and grows stronger with each exchange. I remain grateful I have that kind of love in my life, from my children, my family and family of friends, and yes, my husband. That kind of love allows me to wake up and go forth to work in an emotionally draining and physically taxing job and come home to a messy house and hungry children, stinky turtles and shedding dog. To sleep at night, worry about bills and taxes, contemplate graduate school and professional writing, and what mark I might leave on the world.
CNN Sports Anchor Nick Charles died today at age 64 after a two year battle with bladder cancer. In one of his last interviews with Dr. Sanjay Gupta I was struck not by his gaunt appearance or loss of his trademark curly locks, but by his continued optimism and his committment to living a life based on looking forward and remaining positive in the face of terminal illness. "I wake up every morning expecting it to be a good day." Corny? Maybe, but living a life based on love and optimism is what really allows the world to keep moving forward.
Tonight I toast the people of New York who choose to be hopeful about the state of the world and the institution of marriage, despite all the negative and nasty the world can dish out. I'm grateful to be loved, grateful for the lump in my throat when I hold a new baby, hear a love song, hold my child close. Grateful to be one of the corny, sentimental fools who keep Hallmark in business. I know I'm not alone.
Throughout the week there have been opponents and proponents of the law all over television throughout the U.S. and commentators have been abuzz on the web. Friday morning I watched a three minute segment from Keith Olbermann and was overwhelmed by the way he just cut to the heart of the matter.
"[Gay marriage] won't destroy the democracy; it doesn't destroy the family; it strengthens the institution of marriage and its principal premise of fidelity; and it increases the number of people living in stable and loving homes. ... This is, corny as it seems, not about politics or religion or power or lobbying. It is about love. In a time of impermanence and fly-by-night relationships these people over here want the same chance at permanence and happiness that is already yours. They don’t want to deny you yours. They don’t want to take anything away from you. They want what you want: a chance to be a little less alone in the world. And your acceptance of their love turns out to be your own expression of love to your fellow human beings."It's true that in 2011, the idea of love and marriage has become a bit corny yet here I am newly remarried myself and tearful at the thought that some of my dearest friends might someday be able to wed as well, for better or worse. There is a lot to be cynical about if a person just goes about life with everyday sort of expectations. Greenhouse gas, violence and war throughout the Middle East, Africa, and almost everywhere else, AIDS, poverty, illiteracy, and the rise of celebrityhood as a proper profession, are all good examples. Yet, there are perhaps 10 good reasons for hope to replace each and every negative image and idea you can come up with, including Paris Hilton.
Most days I care for an assortment of adult patients with cancer. Many are older and simply interested in comfort, some are younger than I and hope for remission and the chance to dance with little girls at their grown up weddings, or see young boys become men themselves. Those that are most hopeful are usually the least self motivated of the patients I meet-motivated by their abiding love for others, rather than fear or selfishness for one more moment of their life. Their life is no longer about them, but about those they love.
To be sure they are enduring often brutal treatment for their health, but they are inspired by the love they give and receive. The kind of love that is exponential and grows stronger with each exchange. I remain grateful I have that kind of love in my life, from my children, my family and family of friends, and yes, my husband. That kind of love allows me to wake up and go forth to work in an emotionally draining and physically taxing job and come home to a messy house and hungry children, stinky turtles and shedding dog. To sleep at night, worry about bills and taxes, contemplate graduate school and professional writing, and what mark I might leave on the world.
CNN Sports Anchor Nick Charles died today at age 64 after a two year battle with bladder cancer. In one of his last interviews with Dr. Sanjay Gupta I was struck not by his gaunt appearance or loss of his trademark curly locks, but by his continued optimism and his committment to living a life based on looking forward and remaining positive in the face of terminal illness. "I wake up every morning expecting it to be a good day." Corny? Maybe, but living a life based on love and optimism is what really allows the world to keep moving forward.
Tonight I toast the people of New York who choose to be hopeful about the state of the world and the institution of marriage, despite all the negative and nasty the world can dish out. I'm grateful to be loved, grateful for the lump in my throat when I hold a new baby, hear a love song, hold my child close. Grateful to be one of the corny, sentimental fools who keep Hallmark in business. I know I'm not alone.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Weiner on the Grill
In what can only be described as some type of self fulfilling prophecy related to childhood name calling Representative Anthony Weiner finally confessed what everyone else in America has known for days... that he was showing off his little weiner to the world via his Twitter account.
Really?
Sad to say, this almost makes Arnold look classy. Especially when Rep. Weiner inferred that he had not been unfaithful to his wife by sending pictures of his privates to other women. Presumedly this is because he did it before they were married (only engaged) and he never actually met these other women. It was simply a consensual exchange of lurid material to get himself and the other unknown woman some sort of sexual healing of a kind most people who behave like this manage to get in the shower or with a Playboy while their mother is standing outside the bathroom door wondering why little Johnny is suddenly so interested in personal hygeine.
Here's just a couple of quick facts for the Representative:
1. If you are sending pictures of your genitalia to anyone other than your spouse or significant other-it is in fact, inappropriate.
2.If you are in fact stupid enough to take pictures of your genitalia and send them to women other than the previously mentioned spouse, perhaps you should send them from a phone, not download them to your Twitter feed.
3.Thank you so very much for bringing such a lovely tenor to dinnertime conversations around the country between flustered parents and curious preteens and teens. You just can't imagine how delightful it is to discuss why a man might want to send photos of his erection to strangers and how this same man might be qualified to hold public office.
Good times.
Honestly, whatever happened to discrete dalliances? Is it too much to ask in this multitasking tech savvy world that if people are going to cheat on one another that they do it without involving all the rest of us? I do not want to see your crotch or listen to your repeated and increasingly stupifying rationale for sending said pictures out into the known universe.
I do not want to know what you or your wife think about your behavior, I simply do not care. It's your mess, clean it up, wallow in it, whatever, but please leave the rest of us out of it.
I imagine when reelection time comes the people of New York will have more to say about the issue. They are a forgiving lot, but frankly even this may be pushing the boundaries of good taste. Time was you could count on politicians to have a lover on the side, but you could also count on the discretion and inpenetrable wall of denial as well. Representative Weiner seems to have missed those pivotal conversations in his orientation to political office and instead is clinging to the belief that the more details the American public receives about his indiscrete behavior, the more likely we are to understand it and absolve him of any wrong doing.
Here's the thing. There are many marriages that recover from infidelity and indiscretion, many well known political ones in point of fact. It really isn't anyone's business how or why a couple chooses to muddle through a mess, even one of their own making. What is the business of the American people, and in particular, the voters of New York State, is what kind of judgement their elected officials display day in and day out and in this particular instance Representative Weiner has displayed the poorest, most self serving type of judgement of all by arrogantly presuming that his behavior is no big deal.
It is a big deal when someone that voters elect to make decisions for them cannot exhibit enough self control in his own personal behavior to keep vulgar pictures of himself from being seen by complete strangers. It is a big deal when the same elected official fabricates and attempts to blame others for this same lack of self control and poor judgement.
Most importantly it is a very big deal when a man who must negotiate decisions that effect those who put him office and their day to day lives chooses to lie repeatedly to avoid accountability for his boorish behavior and then expect the media and his constituents to excuse and ignore it.
Representative Weiner would do well to excuse himself from the political dialogue in New York and look for a new job. Maybe he could get a hot dog cart and manage to profit off his ill chosen behavior and moniker.
Really?
Sad to say, this almost makes Arnold look classy. Especially when Rep. Weiner inferred that he had not been unfaithful to his wife by sending pictures of his privates to other women. Presumedly this is because he did it before they were married (only engaged) and he never actually met these other women. It was simply a consensual exchange of lurid material to get himself and the other unknown woman some sort of sexual healing of a kind most people who behave like this manage to get in the shower or with a Playboy while their mother is standing outside the bathroom door wondering why little Johnny is suddenly so interested in personal hygeine.
Here's just a couple of quick facts for the Representative:
1. If you are sending pictures of your genitalia to anyone other than your spouse or significant other-it is in fact, inappropriate.
2.If you are in fact stupid enough to take pictures of your genitalia and send them to women other than the previously mentioned spouse, perhaps you should send them from a phone, not download them to your Twitter feed.
3.Thank you so very much for bringing such a lovely tenor to dinnertime conversations around the country between flustered parents and curious preteens and teens. You just can't imagine how delightful it is to discuss why a man might want to send photos of his erection to strangers and how this same man might be qualified to hold public office.
Good times.
Honestly, whatever happened to discrete dalliances? Is it too much to ask in this multitasking tech savvy world that if people are going to cheat on one another that they do it without involving all the rest of us? I do not want to see your crotch or listen to your repeated and increasingly stupifying rationale for sending said pictures out into the known universe.
I do not want to know what you or your wife think about your behavior, I simply do not care. It's your mess, clean it up, wallow in it, whatever, but please leave the rest of us out of it.
I imagine when reelection time comes the people of New York will have more to say about the issue. They are a forgiving lot, but frankly even this may be pushing the boundaries of good taste. Time was you could count on politicians to have a lover on the side, but you could also count on the discretion and inpenetrable wall of denial as well. Representative Weiner seems to have missed those pivotal conversations in his orientation to political office and instead is clinging to the belief that the more details the American public receives about his indiscrete behavior, the more likely we are to understand it and absolve him of any wrong doing.
Here's the thing. There are many marriages that recover from infidelity and indiscretion, many well known political ones in point of fact. It really isn't anyone's business how or why a couple chooses to muddle through a mess, even one of their own making. What is the business of the American people, and in particular, the voters of New York State, is what kind of judgement their elected officials display day in and day out and in this particular instance Representative Weiner has displayed the poorest, most self serving type of judgement of all by arrogantly presuming that his behavior is no big deal.
It is a big deal when someone that voters elect to make decisions for them cannot exhibit enough self control in his own personal behavior to keep vulgar pictures of himself from being seen by complete strangers. It is a big deal when the same elected official fabricates and attempts to blame others for this same lack of self control and poor judgement.
Most importantly it is a very big deal when a man who must negotiate decisions that effect those who put him office and their day to day lives chooses to lie repeatedly to avoid accountability for his boorish behavior and then expect the media and his constituents to excuse and ignore it.
Representative Weiner would do well to excuse himself from the political dialogue in New York and look for a new job. Maybe he could get a hot dog cart and manage to profit off his ill chosen behavior and moniker.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Cymotrichous and Other Powerful Words
Couldn't have even spelled it on my hand, but the lovely Sukanya Roy, age 14 and a seasoned academic competitor nailed it and won the Scripps National Spelling Bee.
The word itself means having wavy hair and the Miss Roy actually recognized the word which is a feat in and of itself. Most 14 year old girls in the U.S. are obsessively texting and deleting unnecessary vowels and consonants in a faux effort at cleverness. More and more our society is opting out of full length conversations in person, by phone, by mail and I worry the loss of so many lovely words.
Cymotrichous is one that I made all the way to 42 without ever hearing in conversation and yet I have known many people with cymotrichous hair, and even mine can get a little cymotrichous when it is longer and I go to sleep with it damp.
For many years now I have made it my habit to compliment the boys on their use of a new word,"Nice vocabulary there buddy." So much so now that they will prompt me,"Nice one, huh mom?"
I love using words to paint a picture both verbally and in writing and I dread the loss of real conversation to all of it's abbreviated forms. To be sure I love the internet and facebook, and email, but I also love the heft of a book in my hand, the feel of stationary under my pen, the joy of a 50 point word in Scrabble.
Beyond the spelling bee this week I have seen or heard 3 or 4 news stories regarding words coming under fire as in the "F" word (faggot) and the "R" word (retard). The new PSA with Jane Lynch and her lovely young costar from Glee who happens to be a person with Down's Syndrome is short and to the point-and really takes your breath away when you hear the streak of vulgar names in quick succession.
My mother would have preferred I used the word F*ck at the dinner table than to have ever heard the word "Ni**er" cross my lips. Having been raised in Northern California she was horrified by the lingering racism in Texas and reinforced that there is no time ever to use such a hateful word. As I became a parent there are words I reinforce with the kids that "we" do not use, ever.
Yet, there seem to be few parents like me at my son's middle school because this week the "G" word crept into my house and knocked me down in the kitchen. "That is soooooooo gay," I heard from the livingroom. "Pardon me?" "Oh mom, you know what I mean." "Yes, I know exactly what you mean, you mean it's stupid and I'd like you to go call one of the many gay people we know and love and tell them you think they're stupid." (Heavy sigh) "I got it mom."
So I'd like to offer a solution to both of my concerns. In order to air out the Thesaurus and the treasure trove of words within it and correct the use of inappropriate pejorative put downs I am now going to require anyone around me to give me 5 other words to replace their offensive one...should the offensive party in question be an adult who refuses, I will offer up five suggestions.
For example, "That is so.....gay." "No, no I think you mean witless, doltish, inane, imbecilic, or idiotic."
Just doing my part to change (adjust, advance, correct) the world.
The word itself means having wavy hair and the Miss Roy actually recognized the word which is a feat in and of itself. Most 14 year old girls in the U.S. are obsessively texting and deleting unnecessary vowels and consonants in a faux effort at cleverness. More and more our society is opting out of full length conversations in person, by phone, by mail and I worry the loss of so many lovely words.
Cymotrichous is one that I made all the way to 42 without ever hearing in conversation and yet I have known many people with cymotrichous hair, and even mine can get a little cymotrichous when it is longer and I go to sleep with it damp.
For many years now I have made it my habit to compliment the boys on their use of a new word,"Nice vocabulary there buddy." So much so now that they will prompt me,"Nice one, huh mom?"
I love using words to paint a picture both verbally and in writing and I dread the loss of real conversation to all of it's abbreviated forms. To be sure I love the internet and facebook, and email, but I also love the heft of a book in my hand, the feel of stationary under my pen, the joy of a 50 point word in Scrabble.
Beyond the spelling bee this week I have seen or heard 3 or 4 news stories regarding words coming under fire as in the "F" word (faggot) and the "R" word (retard). The new PSA with Jane Lynch and her lovely young costar from Glee who happens to be a person with Down's Syndrome is short and to the point-and really takes your breath away when you hear the streak of vulgar names in quick succession.
My mother would have preferred I used the word F*ck at the dinner table than to have ever heard the word "Ni**er" cross my lips. Having been raised in Northern California she was horrified by the lingering racism in Texas and reinforced that there is no time ever to use such a hateful word. As I became a parent there are words I reinforce with the kids that "we" do not use, ever.
Yet, there seem to be few parents like me at my son's middle school because this week the "G" word crept into my house and knocked me down in the kitchen. "That is soooooooo gay," I heard from the livingroom. "Pardon me?" "Oh mom, you know what I mean." "Yes, I know exactly what you mean, you mean it's stupid and I'd like you to go call one of the many gay people we know and love and tell them you think they're stupid." (Heavy sigh) "I got it mom."
So I'd like to offer a solution to both of my concerns. In order to air out the Thesaurus and the treasure trove of words within it and correct the use of inappropriate pejorative put downs I am now going to require anyone around me to give me 5 other words to replace their offensive one...should the offensive party in question be an adult who refuses, I will offer up five suggestions.
For example, "That is so.....gay." "No, no I think you mean witless, doltish, inane, imbecilic, or idiotic."
Just doing my part to change (adjust, advance, correct) the world.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Courage and the Elementary School Play
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.
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.
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
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