No One's Business but Ours

I wasn't going to touch this one with a ten-foot pole. Honestly, I was very content just sitting back and watching the three ring circus of outrage that started. I had my opinions, of course, but I was fine with being a spectator.

I am talking about the confrontation that happened at Spring Valley High School in South Carolina. You know the one. A cop beat down on a kid. If you don't know what I'm talking about - forget I said anything. Turn off your phone or computer and continue on with your happy life. Get away while you still can.

Anyone that knows me knows there is a time limit to something like me holding in my own opinion. That time limit expired when I saw this:

Now, before going off on a tizzy (that's a little Northern Minnesota slang for keep your panties on...), let's just take a moment and attempt to start from the beginning.

I'm a little late picking up this story, and I try to get all my information from reputable news sources, even though these words together have now formed an oxymoron (p.s. - sorry CNN and Fox News, you're not included in this list). I also try to find the original source and follow the story from the beginning so I can form my own opinion. That wasn't really possible in this case since the media jumped on this like a stripper to the pole whose rent is due tomorrow. Within three short days, this story exploded into the true media spectacle we've come to know and loathe.

My initial reaction when seeing the video was what the fuck. Seriously. What the actual fuck. Even without knowing any context surrounding the situation, I believe the actions by the officer were extreme. Unless she was physically assaulting him (which can't be seen in the video but some sources claim the girl hit the officer first) and the officer feared for his life, I don't believe this kind of force is acceptable.

So why did it happen? What events led up to this and what choices were made? The video itself doesn't show anything leading up to the confrontation, so only those in the classroom know what really happened and those stories are conflicting one another.

On a side rant, I would like to stress that this happened in a classroom. This is an educational setting, where children are supposed to be taught not only academics, but how to become responsible adults that contribute to society in positive ways. And no, this isn't the sole responsibility of the school as parents should be the main influences, but when the child spends a majority of their time during the week at school, there is a responsibility of said school to do right by their students. School should be a safe haven and it's not anymore. I was 15 when Columbine happened and I realized that the terrors of the outside world could reach me. We're so concerned with gun control and mass shootings and protecting our kids, but this video shows that we allow violence into our schools in other ways. Side rant over, for now...

So what happened? According to sources, the girl was asked to put away her cell phone in class. It's unclear whether she refused to do this or if she just didn't do it in a timely manner, but she was subsequently asked to leave the classroom. When the teacher couldn't get the student to comply, the vice principle was asked to assist. The girl still refused to leave the classroom because she deemed the punishment as unfair. This was when the officer entered the picture and things got even more out of control.

Ugh, where to start. From the very beginning, this is just a jumbled mess of bad choices and decisions from all parties involved. Let's start with the obvious but the most overlooked participant in this conflict, the teacher.

The Teacher: My first question is, if this all started with a stupid cell phone, why couldn't the teacher handle it? Isn't that part of their job? To discipline students and be able to command a classroom? They're kids. You're an adult. What is the problem? Also, it's a cell phone. I know it was probably disruptive, but for who? The students or the teacher? If she refused to put it away, there are other ways to handle it. Let the entire class know that any time a cell phone is seen or heard within the class room, there is an automatic pop quiz worth 10% of the grade. These kids are old enough to make their own choices and face the consequences. If they choose to play on their cell phones instead of pay attention, the consequence will be that they don't pass the class. The teacher could have talked to the student after class, without the pressure from her peers surrounding her, and given her an extra assignment. The next day, let the rest of the students know that anyone seen with a cell phone will be given the same assignment. Put a basket up at the front of the room for students to turn in their cell phones during class. Think, teacher, think! You own that one little square room in the this world and have the power to influence people every day. Don't waste that!

With all of this, how did the vice principle become involved? Did the teacher not have enough backbone to enforce the rules of the classroom? Or did they just not want to deal with it and needed a different adult to do her job? This teacher is being suspiciously quiet. The issue started between her and the student and I don't believe the teacher handled it well, at least from the way the story is being told.

The Vice Principal: I don't ever remember the vice principle of my high school coming into a classroom to discipline a student. I remember students going into his office. Hell, I even found myself in his office a few times (worth it, every time). I would see him in the hallway and the cafeteria, keeping a watchful eye, but never once in a classroom in this regard.

Not only was the vice principal called in for backup, but he also wasn't able to control the student. Let's just take a moment to let that sink in. The vice principal couldn't control a student enough to get her to leave the classroom like her teacher requested. Instead, he had to call in more backup in the form of a cop.

The Cop: I don't know what words were exchanged between the girl and the cop. Again, the video doesn't show any of that. What I do know is that, following in the tradition of the teacher and vice principal, the cop didn't handle the situation correct, either.

If she wouldn't listen and the teacher or the vice principal or the officer, how were they supposed to get her out of the room? Probably not by dragging her forcefully from her desk. The cop looks pretty big. I like to think that my 5'3" and 120 pound frame can handle itself pretty well, but put me up against a tall, muscular and trained person and I will lose. Not without a fight, but I will lose. Judging by the way he was able to lift the desk with her when he tried to yank her out of it, I bet he could have easily picked up the desk with her in it and carried it out into the hallway. I'm not saying that's the right action, but it is clearly a better alternative to what happened.

Do I think he assaulted her? Yes. Do I think it was uncalled for? Yes. Do I think she deserved it? No.

The Student: The girl, whose name is Shakara, is 18. By law, she can vote, buy cigarettes and join the armed forces. But she is a child. Her actions, lack of respect for all of the adults involved, her fellow students, as well as her actions after the fact, have deemed her a child in my mind. She had the power, just as much as the teacher, to stop this incident before it escalated.

First, she shouldn't have had her cell phone in the classroom. Keep it in the locker. I might be from a different generation, but I never had my cell phone on me in class. I did have a notebook, textbooks and pens so I could learn. That's why I was there. {Side Note: I was also a bit of a nerd. I own that now. Nerds rule.}

Second, she should have listened to the teacher. All she had to do was listen. Listen. Such a lost art. Open your ears. Keep your mouth shut. Open your mind. Listen.

She decided against this obvious action because she thought the punishment was unfair. Guess what? She doesn't get to decide that. If she believed that she wasn't doing anything wrong, then she takes it up with the vice principal and other school authorities in a respectful manner. Demanding respect with your arms crossed over your chest and pouting will not get others to listen to you. I've tried it. It backfires. Every time.

Again, I don't think she deserved the ultimate outcome of being forcefully dragged out of the classroom. However, she had multiple opportunities to change the course of events and ignored them. In this situation, I find her to be just as guilty as the teacher and vice principal.

This is a teachable moment. Clearly, this girl needed some guidance. Just because she's 18 doesn't mean she's free from being taught how to act like a decent human being. That's a lesson that can always be taught, as long as others are willing to teach it (I'm pointing my big fact accusing finger at you, teacher and vice principal and officer).

The cop was fired and got a lawyer. The student got a lawyer. The school district got a lawyer. Every one got lawyers and began screaming at each other from behind them, flinging accusations and playing the blame game. No one is taking any responsibility or sitting down and having a fucking conversation.

The student is facing misdemeanor charges for "disturbing schools" that comes with a $1000 fine and up to 90 days in jail. Yes. A student could go to jail for disturbing school. Honest to Jesus. Again, what the actual fuck. Not only did the teacher fail, the vice principal fail, the officer epically failed, but now the justice and court systems are also failing. What are we teaching this child? That she did wrong and here's why and these are the consequences so don't do it again? Nope. We're teaching her - and her peers - not to trust authority. We're teaching them that if they piss off the wrong person, even in school, they'll end up in jail. We're telling them they aren't worthy of our time, our respect, our involvement. If they aren't good enough, we toss them away and lock them up and label them a criminal.

What thoroughly aggravates me about this entire situation, even more than the worthless actions of all the adults involved and the complete lack of responsibility, is that no one did anything while it was happening. In watching the video, the teacher, the vice principal, and all the students just sit and watch as this child is pulled from her desk and dragged out of the room. The adults didn't step in and do anything. The Superintendent quoted "Student safety is and always will be the district’s top priority [...] The district will not tolerate any actions that jeopardize the safety of our students.” Yet here were two adults employed by the district, standing by and watching as a student was assaulted and did nothing. That doesn't sound like top priority to me and I would not be trusting this school district with the safety of my babies.

The students also did nothing. This, I can understand to an extent. If you look at them, most aren't even looking at the confrontation. They have their heads turned. Even the student sitting behind the girl, whose desk was moved when it knocked into his, doesn't watch what happens. My instinct tells me that this is out of fear. Either that, or they are used to this kind of spectacle in school and it simply isn't worth their attention anymore. Both scenarios are frightening.

No one did a thing. I don't care what the circumstances are. If you see someone being treated in a way they shouldn't be, whether it's by a person of authority or not, you step in and say something. You help. End of story. No one did that. That is what pisses me off the most about this entire situation.

This thirty second video details every way we are failing our youth as a nation. Again, the girl is not innocent. She is just as guilty as the rest of us. Yes, she's a kid, but she's been taught to behave this way. She's learned this either from home or school or the media or somewhere or everywhere. The actions of everyone else involved, including the justice system and the media, has only confirmed the bad behaviors that she has been taught.

We are losing, folks. We are losing and this is why. We've lost our damned minds.

Normally, this is the part of the post that would have the call to action. We can fix this! Let's do something! Not this time. I'm just one person, spouting off an opinion. To fix this, we need more than one, but that's not going to happen when everyone is the enemy. Anger is the only emotion we're really capable of listening to now and if this incident tells us anything, it's that our anger is justified, which it isn't.

Alright. I'm done. So. Done. I'm going to crawl back into my happy little Midwestern life, slip on my rose colored hippie goggles and read a good book.

Oh, and take out that ten-foot pole again...

Santa and the Second Mortgage

Ah, Christmas. It's only two months away people. Can you feel the anxiety starting? Have you started saving? Already scoping out Christmas gifts and worrying if you'll have to take out a second mortgage?

I mean, are you super excited to be spending time with family and friends and celebrating the joys of the season?

There is a viral Facebook post that has been circulation for a few years now. regarding modesty with Christmas gifts. I saw it again the other day and it caught my attention. Here it is:

"Just a reminder to all you parents out there to be modest with your gifts from "Santa". Not all parents have a ton of cash to spend on making their kids Christmas special, so it doesn't make sense to have Santa give your kids a PlayStation4, a bike, and an iPad, while his best friend at school gets a new hat and mittens from Santa. You know? Give something small from Santa and make the more expensive presents from you. You can explain the value of money to kids, but you can't explain Santa's discrimination to a heartbroken kid. Keep that in mind this year and always..."

Ugh. I have so many thoughts on this I just had to sit and stew for a few days. I believe the intention in this is good. The mark is completely missed, however, and here's why.

First, don't remind me to be modest with gifts from Santa. Modesty is subjective, and if how much I spend on gifts really bothers someone, that is their problem and not mine. Frankly, it's no one's business what is or isn't spent on gifts. If you want to judge another parent for giving their kid an "expensive" electronic, just remember that you're the one doing the judging.

The amount of cash dropped on Christmas does not directly correlate to how special Christmas is. Therefore, it does make sense to give your child whatever gift you deem appropriate because the highlight of Christmas shouldn't be the gifts. You know?

If my child goes to school with his new toy and sees that his best friend got a hat and mittens and then proceeds to judge said friend, I'm failing as a parent. Here's the thing about kids: they're kids. They don't automatically know this stuff. We teach it to them. We teach them to judge each other based on material possessions. We teach them the monetary value of things and to think differently about people that have less expensive items. Santa doesn't do that. We do.

How exactly is giving the expensive presents from the parents and not from Santa making a difference? When my children get to a certain age, they will know that "Santa" is really not a person and then I'll have to explain to them that I didn't want them to feel bad for the neighbor kids so I gave him expensive presents anyway... wait... let me try that again. I didn't want them to think Santa was a discriminating asshat so I took his place... hold on... I think I can get it this time... The gifts were too nice to be from Santa so I wanted all the credit... wait... that's not right either...

Stating that Santa discriminates against kids based on the gifts he hands out is the coward's way out. Again, one day, the kids will know that Santa was actually mom and dad. If my child comes home and is upset because Jimmy got something really cool from Santa and all he got was this lousy gift, I would first take away that lousy gift and preach a little about being thankful. Then I would teach my son the dangers of comparing himself to others.

I also explain the value of money to my children, just not at Christmas. There are far better times to teach this valuable lesson. For example, when we're at the grocery store and he wants the name brand cereal but the store brand cereal is an entire $2.50 cheaper. That's a great time to explain the value of money. I don't want to put a price tag on their gifts because then they learn to think in terms of money and equate happiness to a price.

Instead, I'd like to take that time to teach my children how to be grateful and thankful for what they have. I'd like to teach them how to value their possessions, not because it was an expensive gift from Santa, but because it was a gift that was purchased with his happiness in mind. It was given to him because someone else was thinking of him. The cool thing about that lesson is that it applies to both iPads and underwear. I want my children to be thankful for the action figure toy they wanted as much as for the hat and gloves they needed.

When my children think of Christmas, I don't want their entire holiday hinging on what Santa will bring. Yes, that's part of the fun and yes, they should be excited. But when they're older and think of Christmas, I don't want them to remember it in the form of "that was the year I got this." I want them to remember the smell of Gram's house, sledding down the hill, hearing the sounds of family and friends laughing and having a great time together. I want them to remember Christmas, not gifts. 

I get the intention of this post, I really do. However, I think it's things like this that is creating a generation of people that are offended by everything. Why should I be offended or upset or have any feelings at all towards what other people have? I shouldn't, and neither should our kids.

This Little Light of Mine

Yesterday, October 15, was Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. My Facebook feed was filled with friends and family lighting candles for the babies they no longer get to hold and sharing their stories. It warmed my heart to see that so many are now willing to talk about this and that as a community, we are no longer ashamed.

Except me. I stood in my kitchen, looking at my candle, and I couldn't light it.

I couldn't bring myself to bring flame to the wick and remember the two babies I carried that never made it. Even writing this now, I'm feeling a little panicky.

I'm trying to figure out why. I will gladly share the details of my stories. Everything, from when I found out I was pregnant to the aftermath of losing the child. I've shared my one experience many times and you can read it here. I thought it was common knowledge until I was speaking with my mother one day and she was shocked to find out that I'd had two miscarriages.

I slowly began to realize that I don't really talk about it. Not that I want to. Not that I need to. But I simply don't.

It's the same reason I was staring at that candle last night, unable to light it. If I lit the candle and stood alone there in the dark with just a single flame, I'd be right back where I was when it happened. Alone. In the dark. 

I can tell you all the details and facts of what happened when I lost my babies. But I'll never tell you of the emotional pain that still lingers. I've made my peace with what happened. I know it wasn't meant to be. I have three beautiful and healthy babies now and if the others had survived, I wouldn't have that. I know this. I know it wasn't my fault. I know it couldn't have been prevented. I know that it happens, much more often than we care to realize.

I knew all the facts and they gave me comfort. What I didn't know was that it would tear me apart from the inside out. I didn't know that after my body healed, my mind and soul would still be scarred. What I didn't know was that they always would be.

In true strong woman fashion, I tried to ignore this. I worked straight through my first miscarriage, not wanting to share that detail with any of my coworkers. I tried to go back to work the next day after my second miscarriage, but my body wouldn't let me. My mind needed something to focus on but it wasn't physically possible.

I was sent home with words of sympathy and hugs and looks of pity that were extremely well intended, but that I hated just the same. I didn't need pity or sympathy. This shit happens. Just let me move on.

And I won't tell you how after I went home to rest my physical condition, my mental condition started to deteriorate. I won't tell you how I locked the bedroom door, turned off my phone and laid in the dark for a week and cried.

I won't tell you because the pity on your face won't change it. The hugs won't make me feel better. It's something that I had to endure even though I fought it every second. It's something I have to live with, always burning the back of my brain.

So no. I can't light my candle yet. One day, hopefully, just not today. The last thing I want is to be left alone in the dark with my thoughts again.

Ask me if I've lost babies, and I'll boldly tell you about them. I'll share the details of when and how and what it was like. But I won't tell you all of it.

I'm sharing this because I know there are other people out there who couldn't light their candle, either. I'm speaking, not as someone who has been through it and made it, but as someone who is going through it still.

And while I feel like I suffered through it alone and that I always will, I know that I have an incredibly strong support system in my family and friends. They know me and how I deal with things and they always seem to offer the right kind of comfort, even when I think I don't need it. That has been what has gotten me through, knowing that other people have felt what I have, even if it's something that can't be described in words.

One day, I'll be able to light my candle. I'll be able to sit in the dark and not let the bad thoughts win. I'll be able to cry and walk away feeling lighter instead of heavier. Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next year. Maybe someday.

One day, their little lights will shine.