Blended Families Aren't That Special

Recently (read: today) a friend messaged me and we chatted about teenagers. If you have, have had, or have been a teen you're shaking your head right now and smirking. You know. You know exactly what I'm talking about when I say teenagers are HARD. The best analogy about raising teenagers that I've heard is that it's equivalent to trying to hug a porcupine. Now that we have one child on his way out of his teens we can see that porcupines can be cohabitated with. You can give them their space and they stop attacking and you can live together quiet happily, mostly. But the 9 and 11 year old are right there on the cusp of teenager hood reminding us that the road is still long yet. They're currently in the stage I would describe as baby porcupines.They are still soft to the touch, but every once in a while you reach out to pet them, expecting their soft fuzzy fur, only to be pierced with a dagger of preteen angst and anger fueled by a new self-righteous attitude that seems to have developed out of no where. Thanks, hormones. I've never missed holding my cuddly babies like I do now that they are all becoming their own people. It is equal parts beautiful and terrifying at the same time. For every proud milestone they reach, there is a new pokey quill, keeping you from fully enjoying it as you did before they could walk, when there were no quills in sight.

Sometimes porcupines still let you hold them... awe <3

Not only do we have five teens and preteens in our house, we have five teens and preteens in a blended family. I like to talk a lot about my blended family, so much so that I've had to stop. My kids are getting older and don't actually appreciate me sharing the details of our lives. What I see as endearing and amusing stories they see as embarrassing and personal. I mostly now keep to private Facebook groups for blended families. But out in the real world, as I talk with my friends and still share nuggets about my crazy life here and there it has become obvious to me that blended families don't have the market cornered on dysfunction. This year marks our fifth year as a blended family and we have mostly recovered from the initial shock and explosion of emotions from moving our families in together. We are now in a stage I'd like to call "dysfunctionally normal." Dyfunctionally normal is where every family lives, most just don't like to talk about it.

How many people out there are as enamored with the show This Is Us as I am? I  abso-freaking-lutely love that show! It makes me cry Every. Single. Time. And that's saying something. I often joke that I'm so dead inside that I had to get a prescription for Restasis so I could at least cry fake tears (tear issue problem is real, however, a more probable cause is old age:P) I've been hardened by life at my young age of 38 (cough, cough) that I really don't cry much. Except now. This Is Us has changed all of that. It has opened up the flood gates and when I sit down to watch it I have my tissues ready and prepare for the water works. This show is about one of my favorite dysfunctionally normal families, and here's why I love it.

You can blame the show's success on good writing and excellent actors if you want, but in my opinion, there is more to it than that. We aren't really watching Jack and Rebecca's stories in an effort to be entertained. We aren't merely watching Kate and Kevin and Randall grow up. We are watching ourselves. We are observing patterns in human interaction and wondering in awe, how the show has captured it all so well. 

I see myself in Kate and her need to keep everyone at arm's length, Randall and his need to be perfect and plan everything, Kevin with his good guy's heart and asshole actions. How can I identify with three totally different characters? I look at them in much the same way I look at my kids; how can they each be so different and so much like me at the same time? It keeps us loving, and rooting for these ordinary characters week after week, just as we root for ourselves. 

One of the relationships I identify the most with is Rebecca and Kate. I see myself in Rebecca, the eager mother who wants to do better by her kids, but despite all she does, her own daughter won't let her in. Maybe there's a layer there that we haven't seen yet, a dynamic to their relationship that hasn't been exposed. Maybe Kate has a disorder: ADHD, autism, a physical handicap. I mean it makes no sense, right? Here are a perfectly normal mom and daughter and they can't get along. There has to be a hardship that has created this dynamic... Or maybe, all relationships are hard, no matter how hard we try. Maybe because we are all flawed, relationships are flawed too. All we can really control is how much we love people and continue to be there for them, even when they push us away. My favorite Rebecca quote this season is this:

"No, it's not your job to make me feel better," Rebecca counters. "It's not — it's my job. It's my job to keep standing there with my arms wide open, waiting for you to maybe someday fall inside if you needed it. And if you do, I'll love you. And if you don't, I'll love you, too — because that's what it means to be a parent. You'll see one day."

If you didn't cry during this scene, you have no soul.

Our five kids all have baggage. They all have to be handled differently and connected with differently. Some of our kids are easier to love than others. Some of them have more baggage. Some of them deal with their baggage better. There are mornings with one child that I get up and think "I will connect with --- today." and five minutes into a car drive to school I'm ready to tap out. Then there is the child that does for others so much that you have to train them to identify their own feelings and take care of themselves. Despite all these differences, I have to be there for them, even when they don't deserve it, even when they don't want me to be, even when it's inconvenient. Even when it hurts.

Me, after asking a teenager how their day was.... *actual footage*

We all know tragedy looms on This Is Us. If you haven't watched it yet I won't spoil it for you, but what we know so far is that the family survives a huge loss. I guess as I watch Rebecca and Jack struggle with raising kids and connecting with teenagers, I'm encouraged by the fact that I know the family comes out the other side. In fact, they don't merely come out the other side, they thrive and grow and learn, and most importantly, they love. And what more can any of us ask for for ourselves and our families? It's perfection because it's real. And real is messy. Sometimes knowing every family is just as dysfunctionally normal as our own is like getting wrapped in a giant bandaid. And when you're hugging porcupines all day, you need lots of giant bandaids to make you feel like you might come out the other side too.

Me, after watching This Is Us.... ah.... all better :) 

From Tiny Homes to Nursing Homes

A couple weekends ago Eric and I went on a road trip and I wrote this post. The time I spent staring at the laptop screen may have been a contributing factor to my car sickness in the final hours of the drive but, as with most things, in retrospect it seems worth it. I finally got the chance to revise and publish it so here you go :)

Let it be known that I didn't want to drive the 12 30 hours to a funeral this weekend. If you work with me, you heard me joke about it in the lunch room. If you live with me, you saw me in a tail spin packing everyone up for a four day trip for all seven people to three different places. If you are married to me, I might have texted you about it multiple times over the course of many days in a series of messages that read something like "I DO NOT WANT TO GO ON THIS TRIP." In my defense, I was nervous about leaving the kids, nervous about being gone from home. You also might have heard me voice my displeasure about having to write sub plans. But, being the self-sacrificing wife that I am (ahem), I begrudgingly went on the trip anyway and consoled myself by remembering that I had 12 hours to complain all the way there. When it started snowing Thursday, I realized I had more like 16 hours to complain, given the treacherous road conditions. Not only do I dislike long road trips, I also have a strong aversion to funerals. Social situations in general are not always fun for me given my propensity for sticking my foot in my mouth, but sad, morose occasions can pose a problem for verbose, outgoing, socially awkward people in general so I was not looking forward to seeing who I might offend or what kind of off-topic story I might accidentally end up telling at the wrong time.

My own neurotic worries aside, Eric had already attended a funeral the weekend before in Oregon for his grandpa so this seems to be a season of funerals in his family. The one in California was for Eric's aunt Karen, a kind woman who I had met a couple times and had passed within seven hours of her father, Eric's grandpa. Eric is a family guy, one of the reasons I snatched him up, but also a reason we keep the roads well worn between Washington and Oregon.Staying in the Copper Rooster Water Tower Inn was on the agenda but it was just a distraction so we would have something to look forward to in the midst of all the driving and the sad reason for the visit to California in the first place. Even though we got there at 2am Saturday morning, when we pulled up we instantly remembered we planned to make this a getaway. A time to relax and have fun and do something we both enjoy, be tourists and stay in fun, funky places we could tell our friends about. It isn't often you get to stay in a water tower built in 1910. Even though we would barely get to sleep there, we peppered our trip with exploring the nooks and crannies of our abode and creating a video to share on Facebook. The water tower was, hands down, the most unique place I've ever stayed. It was cozy and quaint and quite special. When would we ever be in this area without our kids again and get to stay in such a great place? It would be best to enjoy it.

I have only been to a few funerals in my life. The one for Karen was really quite beautiful. She was remembered as a kind and thoughtful woman. A wife and mother that devoted herself to her husband and kids. We are talking DEVOTED. I didn't know her well but when I was around her I remember feeling encouraged by her. Her husband was a mountain climber so she climbed Mount Hood, just once, and said "I'll never do that again but I see why you like it," Her daughter is a runner so she walked her cool down laps with her. The simple stories of a mom finding ways to relate to her kids were touching and seemed worth every minute in the car. Karen's legacy will live on in every person she met and everyone who hears her stories. Someone behind us made the comment "She deserved every kind word in that service.."  I would wager to guess people left there wondering how they could be more like Karen. I know I did. I was so worried about saying or doing the wrong thing at the funeral but once we got there I remembered it was not about me (duh) and I was glad we drove all that way to hear Karen's stories.

When we made the decision to drive to Lodi, California for Karen's funeral I knew I was couldn't drive all that way and not drive four extra hours to see my great  Aunt Evelyn in Fresno. When I was a kid my Aunt Eveyln would drive up with my Grandma Jump every couple summers to visit us and my cousins, from Fresno to Moses Lake. Her visits meant so much to me as a child. Her stories about her life are the only connection I have to my mom's parents and grandparents. I loved hearing her talk about being a drapery saleswoman for Sears. She loves to mention how she still gets a profit sharing check from them (still mentioned it today). She used to say she always took the stairs because if she stopped taking the stairs she wouldn't be able to use the stairs anymore. She wore heels and got her hair done and never stopped living life. I was always fascinated by this Californian woman. As I got older I became even more enamored with her. She seemed to be somewhat of a control freak, as evidenced by her house looking like a page from the Sears catalog, circa 1955, to this day. There is something I found comforting in not being the only control freak in my lineage. It's like I could say, "See, I was born this way, just like Aunt Evelyn, and she and I are both fine."

When we got to the facility today she was sitting up in her wheel chair wearing a purple jump suit and she assured me she had a closet full of clothing to wear. I'm not sure she entirely remembered who I was but here are some things she said that stuck with me:

"This place is nice... I like it here."
"The food here is good... this chicken is really tender today."
"They take care of me here and do things for me I can't do anymore."
"Do things now that you can't do when you get old."
"How old are you?.... oh... you're young!"
"I'm healthy. I've been really lucky. I can't complain."

My Aunt Evelyn is 99 years old. We visited for about 45 minutes and finally her roommate, who was probably in her 70's, asked us to either leave or go to the hallway because we were being loud. I'm not sure why they didn't put my aunt in a room with the guy that was waving at everyone in the hallway because I'm sure she is driving her roommate crazy. She'll be 100 in September and I have every intention of taking the whole family down to see her on or near her birthday. I told her we would send the kids in to her room two by two. Hopefully she is in a new place by then because her room mate might kill us all.

Our final stop was to visit my cousin, Xochitl, who was just a little girl a few years ago it seems but who is now a high school Spanish teacher in Klamath Falls and is adulting all on her own. We got some pizza and drinks and chatted about life and got to see the town she calls home. Seeing the kids you helped raise become your friends is an adventure all it's own and I can't wait to get their with my own kids, though there is a part of me that misses that little girl I used to know, too.

For all my complaining about the hours on the road, this trip has been an eye-opening adventure. Rather than look at the unfortunate parts of the trip I choose to look at the inspiring parts... The legacy of a wife and mother and a life well-lived that will carry on in her loved ones. A fun-filled tiny house adventure with my husband who wants nothing more a life filled with adventures with me even if they are sandwiched between the realities of adulthood and life. Words of wisdom from my 99 year old aunt I will carry with me all of my days. Love from my cousin who I have watched grow her entire life. All of it was worth the 30 hour drive.

I wonder where the most unique nursing homes in America are? I guess someday Eric and I might find out... :)

I've Spent My Whole Morning Reading About the Penguin Scandal and Here's Why

The Scandal of the Homewrecking Penguin, courtesy of National Geographic, has caused a hubub on the interwebs that I didn't take notice of until this morning. It is quite an interesting video. If you haven't seen it, check it out here before you keep reading.

This blog post is about cheating so don't read it if you don't want to know my honest opinion about it or if you are a cheater who is going to try and defend themselves to me. Stop. Just stop. Well, wait, I mean read it anyway cause I would love more traffic to my blog but don't read it to engage in an argument. I actually have a list of 'other things to do besides cheating' towards the end of this post, so maybe you should read it actually :P Also, *disclaimer* there are like 5% of couples who reconcile after a cheating scandal and who go on to have a successful marriage, much like a You Tube video game playing millionaire, you are an exception, not the norm.

So, my initial reaction was that yes, this video is sad. There is blood. Mr. Penguin just lost his wife and kids and it was all recorded and then posted online, so typical of the drama in today's society really. And as if that wasn't entertaining bad enough, he trips on the twig. It was a humbling, Jerry Maguire leaving the office alone and pathetic, sort of way to end things.

But having lived through my own cheating scandal this video made me keenly aware of something. The headline for the video is 'Homewrecking Penguin.' While I think it's important to note that the Homewrecker is indeed a horrible penguin and has caused a lot of pain for the penguin family, let's not forget to put Mrs. Penguin on blast as well. She knows Mr. Penguin intimately and brought the Homewrecker into her home knowingly and willingly leaving Mr. Penguin blindsided.  I feel that because I've been on the Mr. Penguin side of the story before I should share with people what I consider to be common sense for people (and penguins) who aren't cheaters and don't understand what is happening here. Let me break some things down for you...

1. Mrs. Penguin clearly has self-esteem issues, as most cheaters do. She has issues with herself that Mr. Penguin will never be able to 'fix.' Mrs. Penguin actually did you a favor, Mr. Penguin, by taking herself and her cheating ways on to other prospects that she will leach from. Mr. Penguin is recorded on video at a very low moment! He will realize later that Mrs. Penguin is not worth the fight. The narrator is not doing Mr. Penguin any favors, just like the haters who will try to blame him for not keeping her happy. Hold your head high, Mr. Penguin. Some people are just jerks. 

2. There is a common misconception that cheaters need to be forgiven and your marriage or relationship needs to be preserved. I have watched couples do this over, and over, and over and spend 10 or more years with a cheater before they finally conceded "Hmm.... I guess I can't forgive you." Please, Mr. Penguin, if she comes sliding back on her belly, DO NOT TAKE HER BACK! Cheating runs in some people's blood, They love the triangulation, Don't do it, Mr. Penguin. Go find a sweet divorcee penguin that was also cheated on and shack up together and hold each other tight and be thankful you both got rid of cheaters. TRUST ME this works.

3. Cheaters want us all to think they cheated because their 'needs weren't being met.' This is bull. Mr. Penguin, this is 100% not your fault! You got married for better or worse. Spoiler alert: Life has a lot of "worse" parts in it. During those "worse" parts I would like to suggest there are fifty million things a potential cheater could do BESIDES CHEATING to make yourself feel better. Here are just a few:

• Develop a hobby
• Invest in your career
• Go on a walk
• Eat a good meal
• Do something nice for someone
• Exercise
• Watch TV
• NOT CHEAT
• Write a blog

Ok, so the part I found hilarious were all the memes and comments that this video generated. Cheating is not funny, but once you have had it happen and survived it, you realize you are stronger for it. Much like burnt popcorn, it is terrible, but it happens, and you just have to throw it away and start over.

Here are a few of my favorite funnies :)

I don’t always miss my kids being babies… but today I do and here’s why

I had three kids, each two years apart. At one point I had three kids, 5 years and under. When I think back on those times, I think that is the point where I slowly went insane. There are lots of reasons I don’t always look back on my kids’ baby days fondly. Here are just a few:

• Kids are selfish little beings. I’m selfish too but I have the burden of knowing right from wrong so when it came down to their wants or mine, they always won. I hate losing. 
• They are impatient and demanding. And the way they show this is through constant tears. Constant. Tears. 
• Changing the diapers on a two year old is the equivalent of changing the diapers on a hobo. 
• I got interrupted a lot. My thoughts were interrupted, my conversations, my meals. That’s annoying. 
• There was a solid 7 years where I fell out of touch with popular culture. I still have no idea what the fuss Lost and Grey’s Anatomy were about.  It’s a shame.

For me, having babies was crazy time. I wasn’t the mom who sat and stared at my babies and was just thankful to hold them. On the contrary, while I held them I thought about all the things I needed to get done. True confessions here, people. So I spent a lot of my time with babies, being annoyed.

But God makes allowances for us all and gave me the precious gift of a horrible memory. My close friends and family know this is 100% true. I am terrible about keeping commitments and showing up places on time, mostly because I just plum forget. However, I also am very forgiving and don’t keep a record of wrongs, mostly because I can’t remember them. My bad memory has been a joke in our family for a long time, but truth be told, I am pretty good at remembering negative things. I'm just not quite as good at remembering the good.

Because of this inability to store information in my brain, I started hoarding saving physical items I felt were connected to memories. It started when I moved out of my mom’s house and was on my own. I took my childhood toys and books with me and kept them in a room in my first house. When people came over, they assumed I had kids. Now those items are stored away in the attic. When I had my kids I wanted to save all those small moments in time I knew I would never remember so I started scrapbooking. Each of my kids have a book with letters I write to them on their birthdays and pictures from that year. Each of them has two scrapbooks that span their lives from birth to five years old. Then there are the family Christmas and vacation albums. My focus in these albums was not to have the best page layouts and most creative, artistic products. An experienced scrapbooker can see that I threw pictures into books and have very little skill in making things look nice. But what I did focus on was writing down the wonderful things happening in my family and the endearing things about my kids’ childhoods that I knew I would forget.

For someone with a negative outlook on life who is mostly always angry or annoyed, scrapbooking seemed to bring out the fun and happy side of me. I’m a perfectionist and, spoiler alert, life is rarely perfect… or is it? As I flipped through my kids’ albums this morning I saw adorable kids in swimming pools, laughing kids playing in the snow, a family taking their kids to Disney World. No one took pictures of all the different ADHD meds Lena has tried and how none of them have really helped. There is no record of the summer Ben freaked out and had major panic attacks over people supposedly watching and judging him. I have yet to take a single picture of Evy playing the ‘baby of the family’ card and pestering her siblings to get them in trouble, though it seems to happen daily. My marriage slowly falling apart while we had kids and tried to rebuild trust not knowing it would never happen… not on those pages. What IS on those pages are all the happy moments. All the funny things Lena has said because she has no filter on her brain. All the things Ben has excelled at because I may not be the only perfectionist in the house. I have an entire book full of our beloved baby of the family, Evy and how fun it is for her to be the youngest. I have pictures of two people trying to raise three kids and enjoy it.

Good grief. I have around 20 scrapbooks. That’s hundreds of pages of happy moments from a time in my life I also have an equal amount of terrible memories locked in my brain. How can it be that even in a time of my life where I was stressed and discouraged, I was also living some of my best days?

The past five years have been some of the hardest in my life, but also some of the most personally fulfilling. I think often about my failures and what I haven’t given my kids in the way of a happy family. But when I sit down and look at the photographs in their scrapbooks I realize what I gave them is a life worth living and that the good outweighs the bad. The sad thing is I haven’t documented any of the events of the past five years. I guess when I sit and think about it, it’s too sad. There is too much not going my way. There are too many hurt feelings, and hurt kids. I guess somewhere along the way I forgot, I don’t have to document the parts I don't like.I don't have to dwell on the parts that don't seem fair and make me sad. I can choose to focus on the positive and enjoy each moment every day that brings me joy.

Here's a picture of our family today! I am going to use this to start a new scrapbook. In real life two of the people in this picture hate each other, one wants to move out of our house, and there are two other people who are exhausted and not sure how to handle all these kids... but in our family scrapbook I shall write "Valentine's Day 2016" and I will put some cute heart stickers around it and in five years when the teens are moving out for reals we will look it and say "Remember that day? We ate Chinese food and went to the movies and everyone had fun." <3

Things I've Learned About Myself Whilst on Strike for 8 Days

This week I have had to come to terms with several aspects of my personality that I find cringe-worthy. I blame the strike for pushing me to my limits and showing me what I am (and am not) made of.

Without further delay, here is my list of:

Things I've Learned About Myself 

Whilst on Strike for 8 Days

1. Should I ever desire to go on the Discovery Channel show, Naked and Afraid, I would be that person who freaks out on day 3 and has to be emotionally "carried" by the other, more mentally astute person the remainder of the time. I admit that on approximately day 6 of our strike I had a mini mental breakdown. Something in my brain snapped and I just freaked. I got very, very, very sad and couldn't stop crying.

"But the kids still get 180 days of school," my teacher friend said.

"You're doing this for the right reasons," my husband said.

"Go work at another district," my almost 12 year old said.

"Pasco needs you," The internet stranger I only know via Facebook, said.


Nothing anyone said helped, I just felt sad. And eventually my brain liked the sad feeling, and then it wouldn't go away. I'm currently being "carried" by my husband, who understands that I hate everyone, but I hate him the least; my bff, who knows how to commiserate and cheer me up with memes; my school family, who know the value of laughter; and 25 kids, most of whom I've never met, who I long to share my day with.

2. The worse I feel, the better I look. It's true. I've gotten many a compliment after a good two week bout of the stomach flu or strep throat.

"Hey, Mari, you look really great!"
"Thanks! I haven't eaten in 5 days!"

"You look fantastic! What's your secret?"
"Thanks! Just going through a messy divorce and running 7 miles a day so I don't kill anyone."





At first I felt ok about the strike, like maybe it would be over in the first week. In fact the day before school was supposed to start I still sort of thought there was a chance the two sides would make a deal. (Yes, I am naive.) But then the worse things got, the worse I felt. The second week brought with it body aches, headaches and nausea. I couldn't eat and I started running again (channeling the not killing people thing). Now I'm off sugar and have been taking my vitamins. Why does it take a life crisis to focus my efforts on healthy living? And should I hope that the strike is over soon, or hope that it goes another two weeks because I think I could probably drop a pant size in that time. #Priorities


3. I can be on time for things. An actual work meeting? Put me down for five minutes after. But if we have to be somewhere to picket or walk around the neighborhood you bet I'll be rolling up 5, or even 10 minutes early. I have no explanation for this.

4. "Serenity Now, Insanity Later" is a real thing. So, there is an episode of Seinfeld where George Constanza, in an effort to handle life in a more calm way adopts the phrase "Serenity Now." He tries to calm himself as he goes head to head with his nemesis and rival, Lloyd Braun. Throughout the episode he learns that holding things in and faking that he is calm actually makes it worse until he blows up. A better way of handling life is if you feel like crying, cry. If you want to rant find someone who will listen and not slap you. If you want to write a blog and get all the thoughts out of your brain, then do that. But, whatever you do, don't hold it all in.



5. Much like Baby, Mari also dislikes being put in a corner. I don't respond well to bullies. I wish I could say I punch them in the face and then move on with life. Nope. I am nice to bullies. I try to figure out why they are such jerks and if I can help them in anyway. I look for any possible sign that they are better than the behavior I am witnessing.

But... PSD is using tactics like filing injunctions, accusing teachers of abusing kids by not babysitting them, asking for fines to be collected from the union and individuals in union leadership, and today, the final straw, scheduling a special board meeting with the purpose of suspending compensation and district paid benefits because we won't go back to work without a contract. A contract they have had all summer to work on. A contract they have not been willing to negotiate about. A contract that would hold them accountable for the things they are currently not providing Pasco students. I am no longer looking for evidence that they are not as bad as they seem to be. I am now ready to continue to stand with my union colleagues and say: BRING IT ON. I am not an unruly student you can sit in the corner and force to obey (my parents can attest to that!). The more you push and intimidate me, PSD, the harder I will work to be my very best at the end of summer dance party (Ok, that's where the analogy sort of falls apart... but you feel me, right?)




Will the strike last another few days? A week? Two more weeks? I have no idea. I can only hope that we are all back in our classrooms soon, after having a fun time with our friends in summer camp and learning how to believe in ourselves enough to dance (See! That analogy did work after all!!) :)

Pasco... I Wish I Knew How to Quit You... Top 10 Reasons I'm Staying

I woke up at 5:30am this morning with knots in my stomach. Reality hits me in the face every day as I get up and put my red shirt on and report to my picketing station while crossing my fingers that today is the day we will reach agreement and I will get to be back in my classroom soon. I am surrounded by turmoil all day and then I get home and my kids are wondering why I'm gone so much and why I'm on social media talking to people all the time. They don't fully understand the significance of the stand we are taking, or why I would want to educate people in our community about why we are doing what we are doing.

But with all the stress Pasco teachers are under and all the truth that has come out about our district, people have to wonder, why do we stay? Why not go to Kennewick  or Richland? I know principals in both districts and have the qualifications needed. Why not go? Are we all just gluttons for punishment? Does Pasco just attract "bad" teachers that can't get hired anywhere else?


In the spirit of David Letterman, here are my

Top 10 Reasons I Can't Quit Pasco

10. Pasco has THE BEST authentic Mexican food. Have you been to La Fama or El Sazon? Try it. It's life changing.

9. Dust Devils play at the TRAC in Pasco. Russell Wilson was a Dust Devil. I love the Sea Hawks, therefore I love Pasco.

8. The traffic on Road 68 still pales in comparison to 5 o'clock G Way traffic.

7. It's easy to get to the airport.

6. I like football and I like winning. #Riverhawks #WeAreChiawana

5. I like money. We bought a house with a little over 2000 square feet and I know the same house would sell in Richland for at least 20k more. My parents raised me on a budget and I love a good deal. No way could I pay more than something is worth just for the name brand or label, unless I believed it was truly a better item, which I don't. We have five kids who all go to Pasco schools and three of them will be at the school I'm teaching at this year. Plus also when you do unpermitted work on your house it is harder to sell so we aren't going anywhere.

4. Pasco has some things to brag about... Did you know some of our schools have better test scores than some Richland schools? Did you know we actually have higher graduation rates in Pasco? Did you know Pasco has four STEM elementary schools and they are the only ones in Tri Cities? Did you know many Pasco graduates leave school speaking two languages fluently? We are doing more right than wrong.

3. These are my people. I was raised by a field worker and factory worker. My parents went to school as adults to become a land lord and preschool teacher. They worked hard, and continue to do so everyday of their lives. I got free lunch when I was in school but the rest of what we had my parents worked their butts off for. That is ingrained in me. I'm a teacher, my husband works in IT, we are middle class. My kids wear hand me downs. They didn't all get new shoes for school this year. Pasco is filled with people like me. People who work hard and are proud of what they have.

2. Diversity. There is no better place to be a half Mexican with half Mexican kids married to a borderline albino man and his blonde-haired, blue-eyed kids. There are so many Hispanic people with Caucasian last names and Caucasian people with Hispanic last names. Diversity is applauded here. Plus if you need a pinata, party supplies, or a reasonably priced formal gown, downtown Pasco has you covered.

1. The most important reason... We, as educators, have a responsibility to the parents. Now that the truth is known and we have parents' attention we owe them to see this thing through. We have all heard the complaints and whispering. We know our district is labeled and seen as "failing." We are standing in agreement and saying "Yes, there is work to be done," With integrity, we now owe it to the parents to fix what we are pointing out as broken. I cannot "quit Pasco" knowing I have made this commitment to the parents and community that I call home.

An Open Letter of Apology to Teachers, Plus Also the Real Reason You Shouldn’t Strike… Maybe

Based on the events that did, and did not, transpire at my house this summer, I feel I need to apologize to all the teachers who are eagerly preparing for their students in just 1 short week.

I want you to know I tried to pick up the baton you passed to me in June. With excitement I hung up schedules, I made “learning tubs” for each of my children, I assigned them “work time” each day, I spent a bajillion dollars on books I thought they would like. I set my house and schedule up to support my kids being home and was confident that they would learn a thing or two on my watch. My struggling reader? We were going to fix that and get her to grade level. I organized binders of lessons. I devised a reward system that exchanged productive minutes for tv minutes and Carpenter Cash that could be traded for real cash. And just like you, I wanted to educate the whole child so I signed them up for swim lessons and football camps and took them to the free school lunches and had friends over to play. All of this was an effort to simulate what you did with them during the school year, and what they love about school.

But as I look around my house now, at the very end of this summer race, I feel I need to do some groveling. I’ll admit, my kids did very little reading this summer. I tried to make them, but they have a major emotional aversion to doing anything I want them to do. Plus also I just ran out of energy. I realized half way through the summer that I needed some support staff: cooks, custodians, paraeducators, and maybe even some admin to help me stay on track. And without those fine people to help I had to lower the bar of what I could accomplish with my charges. The schedule I implemented began and ended sometime in June, maybe even within 24 hours. We managed to complete 3 tutoring lessons with my struggling reader and we left off on long vowels (phonics aren’t “in” right now anyway, right?). I started handing out Carpenter Cash for simple tasks, such as flushing after using the bathroom. Yes, I even paid my kids for acting normal while I took them out into public and on errands. We took the advice of T Pain, and “got low”.

And now, as the days inch closer to the first day of school I am filled with fear about the impending teacher strike. I’ve spent ten weeks with my children and I can tell you, we need you. They need you. I need you. Right now the world doesn’t make sense. The kids have lost interest in the above ground pool we bought. What was fun in the beginning of the summer has now been added to the chore list as I make them go outside and swim for 30 minutes a day “or else.” We’re trying to watch some educational tv but it’s sandwiched between episodes of Steven Universe and Uncle Grandpa, which are probably undoing any real learning that might have inadvertently happened this summer.

It’s not only my kids’ brain deterioration that I am worried about with this strike, though. Selfishly I need you to not strike for my sake. I’ve held it together all summer but I’m not sure I can give you a few more days. In the past ten weeks I’ve already dealt with: kids sitting on furniture in wet swim suits after repeatedly being told not to, the piles of dishes in the kitchen from all the “cooking” they did while I slept in until 7, the three tables my son has covered in engineering challenges of his own design that usually result in leaving the glue gun plugged in and me burning myself as I clean up after him, the countless items on Christmas wish lists they’ve now filled my Amazon cart with (Side note: No wonder stores start stocking shelves for Christmas so early, they are bored!) and I have PTSD over how many times my 11 year old has said “just watch this Vine, it’s so funny!” wasting minutes of my life I’ll never get back.

Please take my children, dear teachers. They are ready. I am ready. They may not be any smarter than they were when you gave them to me in June, but they are taller. Is that ok? Because that’s all I accomplished. And even though my own children don’t want to do school with me, I know 25 students who will be walking through my door next month will want to. I need my routine back. I need my classroom where life makes sense. I need to be with people who appreciate my schedules and “learning tubs.”

Please consider my plea,

Maribel Carpenter Smith

Frazzled mom who is against the strike for her own selfish reasons
6^th grade teacher who understands we need to take a stand for our kids J