The Invisible Privilege

Yesterday, Hans went to a University Fair. He came back informed and excited. He shared that he has his top 5 choices; however, he may not get into any of them. I reminded him that September is not yet done, and he is already giving up hope. I told him, like I told his brother, that Grade 12 is temporary and he only has to work hard for a few weeks.

In response, Hans told me that he could always mention, on his applications, about his single mom and her rheumatoid arthritis. What the heck?! First, I was indignant that he got my diagnosis wrong - it is 'Palindromic Rheumatism'!! And next, I am not the stereotypical 'Single Mom'. I am not struggling in any dire way, and I am not dependent on anyone. Even if I were to lose my job, my parents will welcome me into their abode ... they have been waiting for the past 3 years to do so!

I let Hans know that his mother is not exactly poor. She just made choices that have *enriched* her in other ways. No one should measure one's worth by how much money they make. That is sad and disappointing ... especially when it comes from my child. 

To his credit, Hans didn't argue and looked quite sheepish. It was easy to forgive him ... and write about it here!

This took me back to a post from 2014, ‘What’s one’s worth?’, where ASid felt insecure, and today, that boy is a young man who is super confident and doing well. And now his baby brother has so much self-doubt that he mistakenly thinks that he needs to be pitied to get any consideration! I need to talk more to the boy.

Too Personal!!

Today, we had a PD (Professional Development) day. So, students got a day off and the staff got to hang out together and learn stuff. Our principal wanted to meet the ISP team and get an update, especially since Michael is the newest addition to the team. Obviously, we delivered a positive report and the meeting ended well, with all of us feeling good about the job we are doing.

After that, the 4 of us walked into our 2 classrooms that have a connecting door.

Michael wondered why the parent didn’t respond to his email, from 2 days ago, where he mentioned that their daughter earned his *respect*. I let him know that the parent usually responds if she has a concern or a question. Otherwise, she doesn’t feel the need to respond. Despite my explanation, Michael felt that he gave a great compliment to their daughter, and she should have said thanks or something. I didn’t know what else to say to make him feel better.

Then, he proceeded to proclaim that the reason is that he is “secondary staff” and so not as important as the teacher! That hurt my feelings.

I have written hundreds of emails to family and friends as well as to parents of my students, and barely anyone responds to me! Some days I wish they would respond; but most days, I know that people are busy. I make up excuses for my most favourite individuals and have no expectations from others. That works for me. If I took every non-response personally, I would be the most miserable person on this planet.

I sincerely hope Michael doesn’t make this too personal and base his worth contingent on some parent responding to a compliment he gave their child. And I don’t want this odd perception to affect our professional relationship. That would be too tragic! 

Personal versus Professional

I don’t know how my dad did it. He was able to keep his personal life separate from his professional life. If you are reading this right now, you already know that I live one *wholesome* life on this blog as well as in real life, and I am all over the place … I am talking about my life at work, and I am sharing stuff about work at home.

Last school year, Hans heard me talk about my work almost every single day. He heard some anecdotes several times as I repeated them for my parents, my brother and some friends. So, when he had an opportunity to volunteer at my work last June, he was determined to find that student who made my life a little miserable. (I mentioned this student first time in a July post.) My 17-year-old was on the warpath until I reminded him that this was a 7-year-old kid, and he should let it go! I had never seen my boy so angry, and it reminded me of the 9-year-old Hans I wrote about in ‘The Last One Digit Birthday’. Even at that age, I could see him standing up for me regardless of whom he was standing up to!

In this scenario, he would have been looking down at that kid, both literally and figuratively.

Today, I almost clashed with Michael over this same kid. Michael is enchanted with her, and he truly believes she is this unique little thing. She is. I think she is supremely talented and incredibly imaginative. However, she is also manipulative and mean. Her classmates are terrified of her, and she is our youngest in age and smallest in size. She has not spared anyone with her hands and words. And she has the most excellent expressive and receptive communication skills. Out of the other 4 students we currently have, 2 of them simply echo and one of them shouts random words and the other talks to herself. So, this kid is the only one who can have a conversation.

In a Special Education classroom, we need people who have the utmost patience to speak with a child who cannot reciprocate in any way. The silence can be deafening and sometimes it gets drowned by YouTube videos of endless singing of the songs of childhood. So, when a child comes along with speaking skills, that child has a captive audience. Such is the fate of Michael. Today, I had to take the other 4 students and walk them to a safe space while Michael dealt with this one kid. While I was gone, she trashed our classroom and needed time to calm down. The main reason I evacuated the classroom was because of a rain boot that was deliberately thrown at one of the other 4 students. If we hadn’t left, more bodily damage would have ensued.

At the end of the school day, I send personalized email updates of our students to their parents. This takes me about an hour after work. Michael has requested me to CC him on these emails. I have been doing that since September 2^nd. Today, for the first time, for no good reason, he decides to respond to my email to this kid’s parent. Here is what he wrote:

She just wants to be seen and be heard for who she is (and there is nothing wrong with that).  She just needs a little help controlling her impulses sometimes (and I have every confidence she will continue to do so in time).  … she earned more than a sticker today.  She earned my respect.

What the heck?! Michael wanted to know if I thought his response was alright?! I told him that it was more than alright … it was spectacular! I didn’t know what else to say! This was the kid who tried to silence another by placing a beanbag over the latter’s face, and today, she threw a boot at the same kid. On what planet is such behaviour deserving of respect? I am baffled. Right now, I feel like going back in time and letting Hans know that I respect his feelings … he was just being protective of his mother!

This is something I feel like I cannot talk about anywhere but here. This is my safe space. No one can silence me here.

A Ray of Sunshine

The following poem was written sometime in August. I believe I wrote it on the train ride back from Ottawa.

I am a ray of sunshine

I bring warmth

But sometimes I burn

Myself and others

 

Then I disappear

To cry at night

Yet I show up again

To make things (b)right

My friend KPF’s first name is very similar, in terms of the way it is spelled, to a name in another language. If a letter is deleted from his name, the edited version literally means ‘a ray of sunshine’ in this other language. I was pondering about that and wrote the above poem!

My Best Life

My not-so-new teaching partner, Michael, approached me the other day and said that I am a smart person. I wondered where that was going. Turns out he self-published 2 books of poetry and wanted some feedback from me. I was like 'what makes you think I am smart?', and he was quick with a response that I have 2 degrees. Guilty as charged. I do display my 2 degrees prominently in my work email signature - "B.A. (Honours), B. Ed". They are just Bachelor's degrees and nothing special; however, Michael seemed to focus on the 'Honours' bit a bit too much.

So, I was tasked with reading Michael's poetry. Since I have a long bus ride home, I was able to read his poems literally in one sitting. Then, I felt the responsibility to provide constructive feedback. Obviously, poetry is personal. As always, I tried to focus on the positive. I chose a poem from each collection that I could relate to - one was about a moment with a child, and the other was about a mirror on the wall. Since my blog is all about capturing moments with my children, and recently also about seeing myself in a figurative mirror, I could readily relate to those themes.

And then, I had to deal with the "constructive" part of my feedback. I told Michael that his poetry is too personal, and thus, inaccessible. I sent all my thoughts to Michael in an email. I chose the written format over the oral one as I always feel like I have some control over the words I use. I am quite terrible when I have to convey anything "constructive" in person! Anyways, despite my careful consideration, Michael still felt like I missed certain nuances as he used what he called Canadian slang! Then, it was my turn to be a little upset.

I am as Canadian as Canadian is.

However, I did not go that route. Instead, I told Michael that I need to read his poems in a leisurely manner and perhaps not all at once. That way, maybe I will get the nuances he intended. Michael was happy about that. I did not tell him that I also dabble in poetry. Currently, I have 7 poems "published" on this blog - the most recent one was a modified version of a "song". I do believe a couple of them are a little personal; however, the others are quite relatable I think. Unfortunately, I don't have a clue as my handful of readers are too kind and do not provide *any* feedback!

I wanted to take a moment and throw light on how I am churning out quite a few posts even though I am back at work?! Well, I have only ever wanted to be a teacher and a writer. After I spend an entire school day teaching, I am on a long bus ride back home. The last school year, I spent that hour and a bit, on the bus, playing ‘Candy Crush’. I am at level 18, 000+. This school year, I have decided to instead write if I have something to write about. How cool is that?! I am living my best life.

The Feeling of Failure

Hans had his G2 Driver's Test scheduled for 3:22 pm this afternoon. He had a new instructor who got lost on his way to our home and picked up Hans at 2:39 pm instead of 2 pm and brought Hans to the test centre at 3:25 pm.

A few minutes later, I received a text from Hans ... I failed ... and I responded with ... It is alright.

At 3:58 pm, my parents picked up Hans from the test centre and brought him home. They were there at 3 pm and had been waiting patiently.

First thing I did was to write an email to Young Drivers expressing my utter disappointment. It would have been nice to have his usual instructor and the car he did his lessons in. Having a new instructor and a new car, and arriving late, did not help with nerves. I was sure of that!

Young Drivers called about 3 hours later. That was when I got Hans to share all the details of his ordeal … while I was on the phone with a woman named Irene. Until that moment, the boy wanted to be left alone in his room and not speak a word. While on the phone, I wanted my kid to know that I was advocating for him, and I was in his corner. I also wanted him to see how strong his mother is … I did not swear (and never do anyways) and I spoke calmly and clearly; stated facts (even asked to verify them with the instructor) and finally thanked Irene for calling me. At the end, I refused to pay the $700 for an extra lesson and for rescheduling the test. I had already paid over $2K for the program! I was only willing to pay the fee for the test … they owed Hans a free lesson. I was firm on that!

Hans sat beside me on the couch for a few minutes even after the call ended. He apologized for not eating dinner, and then he wondered if he could step out for some fresh air. I told him to take care and never forget that his mother is there for him.

I am writing about this because providing feedback is challenging. I am 51 and I have always given a 5-star rating to all the restaurants I have frequented, to all the drivers who have given me rides and to all the services I have used. If I had any constructive feedback, I have provided it privately to them without compromising their reputations. Hans is 17. Like his mother, he is positive with his feedback. He is a happy kid and does not want to hurt anyone’s feelings. One day, he will find his voice, and I want it to be purposeful - to speak when it matters!

Individuals and Their Shoes

My paternal grandfather loved buying shoes for his son. In the last few years, the son’s son has enjoyed buying footwear for his father. This grandson is Bambino, my brother. He has bought footwear for literally everyone in the family.

The above fact, by itself, does not make a moment. A moment is made when something unexpected happens - good or bad!

Bambino has been buying shoes for Hans for maybe 3-4 years. Quite frankly, I haven’t been keeping track! All I remember are Hans’ responses to these shoes - especially when Bambino is there in person! (Some shoes have been delivered by mail) Hans usually responds with a big smile, sometimes followed by a hug and always with words of gratitude.

In the last few months, as I settled into my predictable daily routine, I have been paying attention to Hans’ shoes. I observed that his running shoes were quite worn out and falling apart in 3 places. I wasn’t the only one to notice this! For his birthday in May, his maternal uncle gifted Hans with a brand-new pair of shoes. I was visibly emotional as I had been asking the boy to buy a new pair, and he was like “I am okay Mom”. Hans is acutely aware of our current situation, and he refuses to burden me with extra financial demands.

I have told Hans repeatedly that parents must provide children with the basic necessities of life, food, clothing and shelter, and that list includes shoes! 

Since school started 2 weeks ago, Hans and I seemed to have switched our arrival times - I have been home before Hans on most days. As I got out of my footwear at the door each day, I consistently saw that Hans’ not-so-new pair of shoes were there and not his worn-out shoes! I was perplexed and finally questioned him about it 2 or 3 days ago. At that point, he said that they were hurting his feet, and he put them away in the closet - outta sight! So, I reminded him about how he expresses such joy on receiving shoes from his uncle, and I recalled how he hasn’t worn the last 2-3 pairs with the same enthusiasm. I asked him to let Bambino know that maybe they should go shoe purchasing in person, and he could choose what he likes instead of the fake appreciation he has displayed. As predicted, Hans’ response was “it is okay Mom” and he was gone!

Perhaps I was too tough on the boy. He is genuinely happy when he receives the shoes. It is when he wears them that he is not so happy anymore. Since I work with kids who have specific sensory needs, I get that part.

Yesterday, ASid and I had dinner with Bambino and his family. Bambino brought up shoes, or rather boots, as winter is coming up. He wondered about Hans’ shoe size. Since his nephew is unwilling to provide honest feedback to him, I decided to tell my brother that he should stop buying shoes and boots for my youngest. Obviously, Bambino was surprised. He was like “but the boy is always so happy” and I was like “because he doesn’t like to hurt anyone’s feelings”.

This is when my brother proceeded to tell me about my parental responsibilities and how I should teach Hans to provide proper feedback to people. I may not recall the exact words as his words hit me hard … because I take my responsibilities as a parent seriously and my brother just told me that I am not doing a good job! Unfortunately, I don’t have one single tragic flaw. I have many faults and one of them is to react emotionally and mindlessly when my parenting is questioned. I could have said something diplomatic like “it takes a village to raise a child, and we can all take responsibility”; however, I said something like “my child is 17 and can you teach your child to try something new?”. My nephew is 11 and a fussy eater.

It was a moment of embarrassment for me, and I seem to be creating these moments in the heat of the moment and regretting them later!

I got home and I knocked on Hans’ door. He was a little under the weather and had skipped dinner with his uncle and his family. I let Hans know about the exchange of words with my brother. Hans’ immediate response was that he was sorry to put me in a confrontational situation. He knows how much I hate them! I told him that he is my child, and I am happy to speak on his behalf; but he needs to start doing that for himself soon.

Since I like to end a moment on a positive note, I would like to share that ASid who was present at the dinner offered to take his brother shoe shopping and buy him his next pair!

It was a moving moment … it reminded me that Hans and I have wonderful brothers.

Mystery Mail

I believe most of us have lost a thing or 2 over our lifetimes. Some of us lose things regularly. Sometimes it is a big deal and other times, it is of little importance.

Yesterday, Hans was at a One Piece card game tournament. It was quite the fun day until at the very end he realized that he couldn’t find his wallet. He had his Presto card in there and he got worried about losing it. I got a bunch of texts from him about it. I assured him that I would cancel autoload on the card and take care of the balance.

I won’t go into too much detail, but when I transferred the balance of funds online from Hans’ Presto card to mine, it became his card - a youth card! That meant that I lost my card in the process. While I was processing it, Hans got home, and he told me that his wallet was most likely pickpocketed. I know the boy and I know how careful he is about his things. And it hit me that his wallet also had his G1 license!

That’s when I got a call from Craigley. He was with Hans the whole day and apparently, they retraced their steps back and couldn’t find the wallet. Craigley said that he would buy Hans a new wallet. I was like I don’t care about that as we had a bigger problem … Hans’ G2 driver’s test is on September 15^th, and he needs his physical driver’s license. I had read all about it earlier in the day.

So, now, we must file a report with the police; visit a Service Ontario centre and get a replacement license that would arrive in 4-6 weeks. Meanwhile, I sent a note to Young Drivers wondering what the next steps are with the possible cancellation of the G2 road test! I also need to get a new Presto card which is the least of my problems!

After a busy week, I was hoping for a quiet weekend. I had a serene Saturday morning, and I feel blessed. It would have been so easy to get upset with Craigley for disrupting my Saturday afternoon. Stuff happens. But why does it have to happen to me? Seriously, I need a break, and I need more than a Kit Kat!

All the above was written and not posted on Sunday, September 7^th!

On Sunday, I had brekkie with my friend C and got a new Presto card. Young Drivers also got back to me. They called me on a Sunday! They said we should be okay with a replacement license, and we don’t need to cancel the G2 test. My weekend was redeemed!

Meanwhile, Craigley filed a report at some police station.

On Monday, he went to a Service Ontario centre; waited in line for a long time and was told Hans needed to be there! So, Hans got there on Wednesday and missed half a day of school but got the temporary license.

Today, I got home and found a package for Hans. It had his middle name on it. I was a little surprised as he never mentions or uses it. I waited for the boy to get home so I could find out who is sending him mystery packages addressed to his middle name?! He got home quite late and said that he was catching up on the half day’s worth of missed school and he had a very busy day. And I was like ‘what new business are you involved in that you are using your middle name?’ and urged him to open the package. He looked genuinely perplexed as he proceeded to reveal its contents. It was … his wallet!! Everything was in it except for $145 in cash.

Someone took the trouble to mail his wallet, and they also had a return address on it. I will be mailing this person a thank you card. This person put a smile on my child’s face and restored his faith in the goodness of people.

Finders need not always be keepers and losers need not always be weepers.

One more attempt at humour!

My loyal readers, who are down to one or maybe none, may remember that I try to write something humorous for my friend KPF for his birthdays. This year, I decided to give him a break. I mean, it is not much of a gift to compel him to read a post written by a very unfunny me! So, this is just a coincidence that I am writing what I think is comical just 10 days before the special day.

I have been back at work, for the first week of back-to-school, for exactly 3 days now.

The 1^st day I walked in determined to be the best teacher ever for my students as well as for my new CYW. So, I decided to go outside for bussing along with Michael (I am calling him that after our favourite actor to play Batman). That way, we can both welcome our students, and I could introduce him to them. Michael was struggling with the vest we must wear when on duty. It is the worst piece of equipment - it is 3 pieces of clothing attached together flimsily with Velcro. I instinctively reached out and started fixing it for him. It took me maybe 2-3 seconds to realize what I was doing. I immediately stepped back and said, “I am always in mom mode. I am so sorry. Please let me know if I ever invade your personal space like that again!”. That was not cool; but Michael was! After that, we got busy with helping the students in and getting them back to routine. It felt like the day was never going to end. I have a new prep teacher, and I had to also help her get to know our students. On top of that, our principal wanted the kids to play on the big playground with everyone else, and they had never done that before! There is no way to explain the fear I felt. One of our kids decided to run past all access points and people who know me know that I never run, and I ran after this 7-year-old like my life depended on it and caught him just as he went past the school building towards the street! When I got home that day, I crashed on the couch and willed myself to not sleep at 6 pm.

The 2^nd day was a bit of chaos. For whatever reason, TDSB decided to close some of the classrooms in the school building. So, instead of the kids going to another classroom for Music, the prep teacher is now supposed to deliver her lesson in my classroom. I am not particular about my "free time", and I am happy to help as my kids are in an Intensive Support Program (ISP) and transitions can be tough on them. It just so happened that Michael was on call with IT Services, and all the students decided to scream together. I decided to take the loudest one out for a walk. I was back in 5 minutes and found out that one of the students tried to drown out another’s screaming by placing a beanbag on the latter’s face. Luckily, Micheal got there on time and avoided further trauma. When stuff like that happens, we must write incident reports and call parents, and it just extends the school day by several more minutes. At the end of the day, I got my first bit of constructive feedback from Michael. In my report to parent 1, I wrote that Michael “managed to move student 1 away from student 2”. Michael felt like that came across as ‘he physically moved the student’ and that could be perceived as an extreme measure by some parents. He requested that, in the future, I write “student 1 was verbally redirected from student 2”. That made me feel terrible as I pride myself on writing the most descriptive communication to parents that captures their children’s school day vividly and accurately. I got home totally wiped and felt better when Hans shared these words, “Who your parents are makes a huge difference to how your life will be.” … something close to that! I took that as a compliment and stayed up to watch some random YouTube videos with him.

Today, the 3^rd day, I walked in to work and told the other ISP teacher that the last 2 days have felt like 20 days! This teacher is 10 years my junior in terms of our age and 10 years my senior in terms of our work experience as TDSB teachers. We are respectful of each other’s age and experience, and we get along nicely. We both commented on the rainy weather and how that will affect our students. We also wondered how long the staff meeting after school was going to last! The ISP program was on the agenda, at the very end, and I wanted her to give the update. She was fine with that. Then, we got busy. I ended up being part of a very imaginative “99 nights in the forest” game with a student. She is the one who is very unkind to me, and this was an opportunity to reciprocate with kindness. And I killed myself with that kindness. I was ready to go home at the end of the school day and remembered that we had that staff meeting to attend. I decided to pop some chewing gum in, so my face looks a bit animated, and I look somewhat alive. The ISP team sat together - the 2 teachers and the 2 CYWs. We found some mini chocolate bars on the table. I needed a sugar rush, but I had the chewing gum. After the 99 nights game where I got “to sleep” for 2 seconds on a cushion on the carpet and “wake up” … which meant sitting down and standing up several times! So, I was not in a mood to get up from my chair and get rid of the chewing gum in a garbage can! I was only going to stand up one more time, at the end of the staff meeting, to walk out of there! Then I saw Michael reach for one of the minis. I thought what the heck, I need a break, and I need a Kit Kat. I decided I could have the chewing gum on one side of my mouth and the Kit Kat on the other side. I was confident I could chew them separately. Guess what?! At some point, they got mixed up and I accidentally swallowed the chewing gum. I was in a bit of shock and needed to Google it to make sure I didn’t *really* kill myself. However, I never bring my phone to meetings, and so I had to wait.  After that though, I had stopped paying 100% attention to what was being said … I was preoccupied with where in my entire digestive system this piece of chewing gum would lodge itself indefinitely?! After about an hour or so, it was the ISP team's turn to speak. The other ISP teacher was great, and I thought we were done. Our principal looked at me and wanted to hear from me as well. I wasn’t prepared but started off well by thanking her for hiring Michael. I said we had a good 3 days, but our 3 students felt like 30 students. What? Then I said that I was just kidding. What? I had all the teachers look at me like ‘what the heck?’ … yes, that’s the plot twist. Michael and I have only half our students right now!

The meeting literally ended after that.

On the bus home, I closed my eyes for a few minutes. I thought about the last 3 days and smiled. I wanted to write about it all. And I did.

Addendum:

Yesterday, Friday, September 5, 2025, on the 4^th day, the new prep teacher quoted me, she said “3 can feel like 30!”. I was both amused and embarrassed. And then I realized that the people most likely to see the humour in this post are Special Education teachers and support staff. I also realized that I am writing for myself now.

One more addendum:

Tuesday, September 9, 2025, on the 6^th day, Michael walks over to my desk and asks if I could do “the motherly thing” and help him with the Velcro vest again?! I wanted to correct him and state that it is called “mom mode”, and then I realized that I now have an extra “work kid” and let it go!!

A shoutout to a friendship that was!

Tomorrow, I go back to work and will most likely have no time to write until a long weekend, or Winter Break comes along! So, this could be the last post for a while.

The last 2 months, I got to see almost all my friends. I have resigned myself to the fact that I may never see Smoggie in person, and that meant the only other friend I did not see was G … until I saw him from the bus I was on the other day. I couldn’t get off the bus or shout out his name to get his attention, but I was happy to catch a glimpse.

Of all my friendships, my friendship with G was the most scrutinized and the most divisive.

In my 22 years of marriage with Craigley, I was mostly miserable. I should have walked out in July 2014, but I did not. There are important reasons why I didn’t act and waited patiently for an ending that seemed to take forever. (As always, I digress. But that needed to be mentioned as it adds meaning and understanding to my friendship with G.)

When they came up with “the pursuit of happiness”, they weren’t kidding. I know it is American in origin, but it can be applied universally to anyone. I do believe it is a fundamental human right and most of us pursue happiness in our own way. Sometimes we find it in a person and sometimes we find it in our children and sometimes in something else. For me, I usually find happiness in helping others find their happiness. And that can get addictive! (And I digress some more!)

My association with G began in early 2016 when he worked on the school yearbook with another parent. After a few days, I was called in as a “mediator” as G and this other parent, a mom, were at loggerheads with each other. So, I decided to step in and help them. That mom was already a friend and then G became a friend as well. I don’t need to go into all the drama that ensued from that particular friendship. Despite that, I think of him fondly because working with G created some of the happiest memories of my life. And yet, I couldn’t keep him in my life. I protested, rebelled and tried my darndest and nothing worked.

This post is about acknowledging a friendship that was grossly misunderstood and eventually relinquished. But nothing is over until it is over. If there is life, there is hope.

My solo trips to Ottawa are always fruitful. This time around, I realized that I need some growing up to do. I had to admit to myself that I also needed to heal and get better. That means acknowledging everything that is damaged with my life and trying to fix it.