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As I’m nearing what I consider the 7th inning stretch of my teaching career, I’ve been thinking about all the young teachers that are just coming up to bat for the first time this school year. I decided to write an open letter directly to this hard working group of energetic and optimistic young educators. Here it is:

Dear Miss or Mr. (insert your name),

I know that it still gives you a thrill to have someone address you this way after working so hard for 4 years on getting prepared to become THE teacher in your own classroom (one day in the future, you will cringe when you hear your surname in the grocery store). Congratulations! I can remember how happy I was when I was hired for my first teaching position at a Catholic school. I was teaching all day kindergarten with 25 kids, 2 of whom spoke no English, and another 4 with what is clear to me now was undiagnosed ADHD. I received $10,000 for the privilege which increased to a whopping $10,800 year two. I was mandated to teach religion but could alternate teaching math and reading each day. I set up cots every day for rest time and brought 25 5 year olds to First Friday mass each month hoping that everyone used the restroom beforehand. Good times…

Whether you are working at a private or public school, there are some things that I think weren’t covered in your college courses. As much as student teaching felt like actual teaching, it was still guided by (hopefully) an experienced and caring fellow teacher. When you are on your own, it is much different as I’m sure you have discovered. If you tried to start off as the “friend” to your students, I’m so sorry for the havoc that has produced because of that misguided decision. Remember, they have plenty of friends. They need a teacher who can set boundaries while still showing they care. If you can’t make that work this late into the school year, maybe try bribery….the promise of a Skittle or an M&M can go a long way (Think about good ole Pavlov who I’m sure you had to read about in Childhood Psychology).

What I have done is to compose a multimedia list of items to help make your journey into your career a smoother one. I was going to make this just a reading list but let’s be honest: you won’t have much time to read until summertime. I also realize that many of you are of the generation that don’t pick up books as much as you download them. No worries. The titles I’m suggesting are easy to find on amazon.com or as I like to call it “The Place Where Most of My Paycheck Goes to Live”. Nothing like finding coin manipulatives, 100 day crowns, and bulk containers of Advil all in one place! (Splurge for the Prime Membership because days like Dr. Seuss’ Birthday and Earth Day will sneak up on you. You’ll be glad to be able to get items in 2 days).

So without further ado, here are my recommendations for helping you develop into a well-rounded and fairly sane teacher. This list is in no order of importance, but it does require that you have a sense of humor and a sense of adventure for the wild ride ahead of you.

1. Read Alice in Wonderland or alternatively watch the Johnny Depp version (Yes, he is creepy in this role, but I promise he will prepare you for at least one parent conference in your future). If you have no idea what happened in this story, watch the music video “Don’t Come Around Here No More” (RIP, Tom Petty…I can’t believe Keith Richards and Willie Nelson both outlived you). There is a section in this book where Alice finds a piece of cake that says “Eat me” and a bottle of something (pretty sure it was liquid morphine because Lewis Carroll had to be one freaky character to dream up that whole Tea Party scene) that says “Drink me”. When Alice follows these directions, the results are completely different from what she needs. What Alice doesn’t realize is that these signs are both extremes and that neither of them is the end all and be all. Takeaway #1: When it comes to teaching a group of kids, no one method is going to work for all your kids. Be prepared to develop a toolkit of strategies to help you reach the diverse population you will likely have in your room. Don’t believe anyone who tells you THIS is the way to teach (insert reading, math, science…). The more tools you have in your toolbox, the better you’ll be able to reach every one of your students. And speaking of the kiddos….
2. Read The Hunger Games or even better, watch the first movie in the series. First of all, Lenny Kravitz is smoking hot in the film even though his character definitely was in touch with the feminine part of his soul. But the real reason I want you to watch it is that it shows two realities of teaching. First of all, the turbulent scenes of the Tributes going after the food when first dropped into the jungle is an exact replica of what it can be like in the cafeteria on pizza day. No matter what school you work in, you can rest assured that you will have a pizza day and it’s usually a Friday. Listen closely: stay away from the cafeteria. Most days the chaos and noise produced in these rooms (which usually have the most God awful echo) is enough to drive anyone insane (Be extra nice to lunch monitors…they’re not Tributes but they’re also working for less than peanuts. 3 finger salute to them all). More importantly, the Hunger Games shows kids at their worst. But remember, THERE WAS A REASON FOR THEIR VIOLENT BEHAVIOR. Their names were chosen randomly just as your students were born randomly to their families. A Tribute had no control over his destiny (except for Katniss, heroine for this generation of kids). Takeaway #2 Bad behavior from a child always has a reason behind it. Katniss and Peeta were normally laid back kids who spent their free time hunting for food for the family and working at the family bakery (Something I eerily have in common with Peeta…have to admit I was rooting for him to win). Being chosen as Tributes changed them into killers. When you have a student who is constantly misbehaving, look for the cause. Swallow your pride and see if it has something to do with the lesson you are teaching. Are you requiring the kids to stay still for too long? Is the content so far over this child’s head that he has given up trying to pay attention? Talk to him and see what is going on at home. Some of the home lives of my students have reduced me to tears. I am amazed that they have the courage to show up every day. Misbehavior always has a root cause. And it’s your job to find out what that is and do your best to help him even if it means reporting abuse. You are their Sponsor sending down parachutes of tools that they need to survive. You are sometimes their main lifeline. Speaking of parts of your job you didn’t realize were there…
3. Buy one Transformer toy at any place toys are sold. OK, I know this sounds juvenile, but hang with me here. Transformers were big in the 1980s when most of you weren’t even a glimmer in your father’s eyes (yes, that was said with contempt). But I was in high school and college, working with kids in daycare centers and summer camps. These toys were everywhere! And they were just amazing to me. One minute a 4 year old would be showing me a car toy and the next minute it would suddenly morph into a big robot! I was never good with my hands so it amused the kids that I had to ask them how to transform the toy back. This is a lot how teaching can be. Takeaway #3: Be prepared to switch your role from teacher to  counselor to nurse to mom to secretary to protector to advocate to referee and finally back to teacher again…many, many times within the span of a typical school day. You will have so many tasks to do during a single hour that will require different roles to come out. Bandaids are must haves in any primary classroom, and I have had to provide emergency female health related resources when teaching sixth grade. You will help your kids settle arguments although your final goal should always be to model for them how to solve those problem themselves. And I don’t want to go into how in the 21st century you may have to one day protect your students from an intruder (phrases like active shooter and thoughts about how to keep my frightened 7 year olds silent are realities I wish I could joke away). So onto the role of secretary…
4. Get a handheld version of Pac Man or Lady Pac Man. Again, this may seem like a frivolous use of your paycheck, but I will explain. In this classic video game, the pacman is constantly running away from these ghosts that seem to be around every corner. Go ahead and practice getting away from the ghosts and gobbling up the “power cookies” that are spread out around the path. Build up your confidence and rejoice in those times when you do get rid of all of the ghosts. This will be the last time you feel victorious. For you see, those ghosts are real and are made of charts, checklists, and other paper products. Takeaway #4:You will have a countless number of paperwork over the course of your career. From IEP forms to behavior checklists, you will be asked to fill out a variety of forms for countless number of people. You often will fill out the SAME EXACT INFORMATION multiple times over the course of a semester. Supply orders, notes home, behavior checklists, reward systems, report card comments, surveys, endless email, and so many more piles of dead trees will come across your desk. Invest in lots of folders to keep all of this paper work straight and practice your slapped on smile for the idiots…err…I mean colleagues who will ask you to fill out these forms which “shouldn’t take more than a few minutes” (translation: goodbye prep period). The next two suggestions will help you bond with both supervisors and colleagues.
5. Read or watch Carrie by Stephen King . I’ve only been able to watch the movie once but certain scenes have eerily played out in my teaching career. The scene where Carrie gets covered with blood is iconic, but my focus isn’t on the goriness of the blood (pretty tame to what kids see in video games these days). I want you to focus on the part where Carrie is wild-eyed and shooting destructive looks all around the gymnasium (yes, proms used to be held in gymnasiums not wedding halls or places too expensive for any teacher to stay for even one night). Not to frighten you, but this look will most likely be given by one supervisor or another during the span of your career. Takeaway #5: Some crazy people get involved in education. I had a principal who not only had this unpredictable and unstable nature, but she actually resembled Carrie’s portrayer in the movie, Sissy Spacek. Although Carrie had reason to be angry, I think we can all agree that she took things a tad too far. There will be people you work for and with who are emotionally unstable. Now, I’m not talking about the occasional emotional breakdown that EVERYONE has during a stressful school year (yes, this will include you). I’m talking about a person who consistently finds ways to put you down and to find fault in everything you do. The reason they are highly critical is usually because they KNOW they could never do what we do, day in and day out. It also could be just like the kids who act out: they could just be dealing with problems at home. Not all people leave home problems at home. This, unfortunately, may include your teaching colleagues. I have had grade level colleagues who would get angry if I didn’t do the same activities that they did. Or others who stopped talking to me because I read the same book to my class as they did. In other districts, I have worked with people who clearly did not like children. What they DO like is having control over a group of children. Control freaks aside, the best advice I can give you for dealing with these people is keeping your classroom door closed. If that person is your supervisor, try to gauge his/her mood and avoid them whenever it looks like Carrie might make an appearance. On a more positive note, the next takeaway will help you with those great colleagues and supervisors you will have.
6. Read or watch Eat, Pray. Love. I haven’t seen the movie version because Julia Roberts is in it. I just can’t get past the fact that she was born only 5 days after me yet looks about 15 years younger. Bitch. Anyway, my advice is connected directly to what I hope are the majority of your colleagues and supervisors. Takeaway # 6 Eat with, pray (for) and love your colleagues. Now, I have to admit that I don’t follow the first part of this trilogy very well at all. Eat in the faculty room when you can. This will help you learn about your colleagues and bond over your similarities. It also will give you time to decompress from the stresses of the classroom. Sometimes faculty rooms can be negative places so this advice won’t always work. But do always keep a stash of candy in your desk. Then you can bond with anyone you want or be a hero at the next meeting. Bonding with your colleagues will include hearing about how their problems may be 10 times worse than yours. If you pray, keep them in your prayers…especially if they teach the grade before you because you want them to be strong teachers. Otherwise, you are going to end up with undereducated students and nobody has time for that. If you don’t pray, just remember to smile at them or hug them (not my style…unless Lenny Kravitz comes to teach with Ms. Lo). And when a colleague is going through a hard time in their personal life, really send out the love vibes to them (1960s child coming through). If you can do something like donate sick days to a colleague caring for a parent in hospice or make a meal for someone who has had a death in the family, do it. Teaching is hard enough without us not being there for each other.
7. Watch reruns of Married with Children and Modern Family. First, watch the Married with Children reruns. You will see the worst of the worst as far as parenting goes. You will see parents who don’t spend any quality time with their kids. You will see a daughter who flaunts her body because she thinks that is her only asset (played by the awesome teenaged Christine Applegate, one of the bravest and most versatile actresses I’ve seen). You will see a son who is constantly put down and made to feel like he is worthless. You will see parents who constantly insult each other in front of their kids. Go ahead, laugh and enjoy the bawdy humor. And then know that there will be kids in your class that face this and much worse on a daily basis. But make sure you then watch some Modern Family episodes. You will see a quirky, funny, and REAL family. There are arguments but peaceful resolutions in the end. There are the branches of the family that are “traditional” like Clair and Phil (with Phil always trying to be too cool for his own good). Then there is the blended family of Jay and Gloria (and don’t forget my favorite Frenchie, Stella). And my favorite by far, the adorable family of Mitch and Cam. Takeaway #7: Know that no two families are the same. Take the time to get to know your families. Write newsletters to get them involved. Use texts and other forms of technology to stay in touch. Invite them into the classroom. Your families may seem “scary” to you but once you get to know them and they get to know you, most will be your biggest supporters.

That’s about it for now friends. Hang in there, because February break is coming up. Be sure to rest up because March is a looonnnnggg month. From one teacher to another, you can do it.

Sincerely,

Ms. Lo

When I first started listening to the Avett Brothers, I noticed that their songs were very heavy with negative emotions. There were songs about lost love, death, divorce, and regret. Even the musical instruments they used gave off a melancholic sound that added to the misery coming from the song. The deep bass sounds and tangy banjo licks sounded like wails coming from some wounded animal. My romantic, codependent, and miserable old soul just loved these moody songs. The grimmer, the better. That is why I was so surprised when I realized that the song, “True Sadness”, actually has an upbeat melody. Their song “Divorce Separation Blues” is another one that was more jovial than the title would suggest. I guess this can be categorized as not judging a book by its cover.

This song actually seems to be about expressing gratitude to a friend who has stood by the writer even through his worst moments. It also talks about how most people wear masks to hide the pain felt inside. This reminds me of how the kids who act out the most in school are usually dealing with the worst home lives. Because I try to make my classroom a safe space for my inner city students, I know that something is deeply wrong if a child acts out. There is almost always something heartbreaking going on in his/her life. A funnier example is when I have a very quiet child in my class. My radar goes off when I realize a child hasn’t contributed much to any class discussion despite doing great work during the first quarter. So, I always bring up my concern about the child’s quietness during first quarter report card conferences with parents. 9 times out of 10 the parent laughs in my face and says “I wish they were like that at home!”. The parent goes on to tell me how their child never shuts up at home and that I must be thinking of another child.

Of course, kids aren’t the only ones who wear masks. Even though I consider myself to be a person with great intuition, I have been fooled by many people. One of my former principals was supportive and friendly when I first met her. Anytime she came to my room, I only received praise and positive questions about what I was doing in my room. I, in turn, became a sounding board for her when she was grappling with issues at work. We developed what I thought was a true friendship. Her mask slipped as soon as I began speaking my mind about issues that she didn’t agree with Suddenly, I was persona non grata. She became vindictive and critical of my work. Her whole body language (which I don’t think can be masked) was closed off and haughty. I’m sure she had mental and emotional issues that I knew nothing about, but it came from so far out of left field that I was caught unaware. Once I saw evidence of her true nature, I felt ashamed and stupid for being tricked. That is something that shook me to my core because I always felt that my intuition about people was usually on point. The fact that she changed her colors so quickly and so completely made me unsure of myself and my decisions.

As confusing and hurtful it was to lose what I thought was a friendship with this woman, it was nothing compared to how masks have played a role in my relationships. One guy who was super sweet to everyone else was for months emotionally abusing me with his words and actions. He put me down at every opportunity and made disparaging comments about my weight. Romantic gestures like holding doors and sending flowers were foreign to him. He was an alcoholic who spent his free time drinking at his local pub where he was easy-going, laid back, loving and kind to others, and jovial. Then we would go home and this ugly little man would appear. I wondered what happened between that bar stool and our bed. I put up with it for a while but then I had to leave. He had begun to talk about marriage, and I shudder to think what my life would be like if I had stayed just a few more weeks. His mask was solid concrete as people still believe to this day that he is a sweetheart, and I am the bitch who left him broken-hearted. It took years before I trusted another man with my heart. His mask led me to believe that he did have feelings when he didn’t. At that point, I had become fed up with masks and relationships and wanted never to feel that vulnerable again.

Since I have been spiritually awakened (sorry, I know that is an awkward term but it is very accurate), I have decided that I’m not going to let masks scare me anymore. Afterall, one of the biggest reasons that people mask their true feelings is because it keeps them from feeling vulnerable. If I pretend I don’t care about you, then maybe the feelings I really have will disappear. In the end, we all wear some kind of mask or another. I don’t go around telling people my deep dark feelings (well…uh…except on this blog) and am generally a positive person. Do I always feel that positive? No, especially lately. The thing about masks is that if a person really cares about you, he is going to be able to tell when you are wearing it. When someone really cares, he is going to take the time to unpeel the layers to find out what makes you tick. I am blessed to have so many people in my life who can tell within seconds that my mask is on. The hard part is admitting it. It feels wonderful to share your burden with someone else even if she can’t help you. But once you trust someone enough to let your true feelings known, you can at least be proud of the fact that you took the chance and for one small moment led a more authentic life.

One of the latest buzzwords in education is growth mindset. Basically it refers to believing that everyone can learn despite any of the challenges presented such as poverty, previous experience, or any other perceived obstacles. We are encouraged not only to be sure that we help nurture this mindset in our students but also in ourselves. If educators have doubts about a child’s ability to accomplish the task, that is already placing the child at a disadvantage. I’ve been cognizant of mindset theory and practice since around 2014, and it has helped me reach many students.

Physician, heal thyself! Yes, I have found that applying the growth mindset to my own spiritual journey has been much harder than I anticipated. Since about November of last year, I have been applying manifestation techniques and coming at problems from a place of love rather than fear. For the first time in years, I actually enjoyed the holiday season despite having my mom stuck in a rehab center and not getting to spend a lot of time with my niece whose social calendar is far more full than mine. The results have been positive enough for me to carry this perspective well into the month of January. I have kept an even keel in my life and really was beginning to feel like there was no going back to the cautious and quite frankly darkly lonely existence I had known too many times in the past.

Well, just like the child who thinks he is “stupid” because he failed one test, I woke up feeling very down this morning. You see, I made what I consider an error in judgement last night. As soon as I did it, regret came knocking on my soul. I went to bed feeling disgusted with myself and even used the word stupid when talking to myself. It is amazing how hard it is to build a new positive habit and how easy it is to slip back into negative patterns. I doubt if any of the doomsday scenarios that I envisioned happening because of what I did will ever come to pass, but last night I felt that every one of them was a distinct possibility. Of course, my energy was very low because of this mindset.

But here is what I’m figuring out about bad decisions. The faster you can look for the lesson in or the motivation for the perceived mistake, the faster your vibration can change. In the past I would wallow in the embarrassment, shame, or anger I felt when making a mistake like I did last night until it ended up swallowing up days of my life. I wouldn’t look for the reasons why I made the mistake because I was too busy beating myself up for breaking some kind of perfectionist contract I had with the world. It was all black and white to me: you either were right or wrong and nothing else mattered.

There’s a darkness upon me that’s flooded in light
In the fine print they tell me what’s wrong and what’s right
And it comes in black and it comes in white
And I’m frightened by those that don’t see it

This lyric from “Head Full of Doubt” reflects how strictly I judged myself (and others…which of course made forgiving hard to do) in the past. You screwed up? Again? What the hell is wrong with you? These toxic thoughts went through my head last night and streamed through my dreams as well. Of course, no good came from that. I was unfocused and disorganized this morning when I had a list of errands and chores that I wanted to get done. And then I realized that this dark mood was threatening to take over yet another Sunday and something inside of me said “No!”. I was not going to deal with the negative aftershocks of last night’s mistake and let them degenerate into a pity party. I’m not that person anymore.

I told myself that I would get my errands and chores done and then write it all out in my journal. I would give myself the time to figure out why I did what I did. I showed myself the compassion and self-love that was absent from my life for so many years. Just as I would analyze a computation error in math class for one of my young mathematicians to explain where he went wrong, I would gently guide myself into understanding why I slipped back into a bad habit. As soon as I gave myself that time to really focus on the problem, I could feel myself getting lighter. This turnaround in emotions was strong enough for me to be able to clearly write about it here. So the next time you are ready to tuck your tail between your legs due to a mistake , remember to give yourself the time to figure out why you made the mistake and how you can fix it if needed. It’s a much better alternative than contributing to the number of people walking around in a bad mood. Sundays can handle that all on their own.

Teaching has been a terrific career for me for so many reasons. I am one of those rare people who knew what she wanted to do from a very young age. From the moment I became a big sister at the age of 20 months, I loved being around children who were younger than me. I was the little mother always spending time with the younger kids in my family and my neighborhood. Part of the reason that I never shooed away younger kids, I’m sure, was because I was such a shy and unsure little girl that I knew most younger kids would accept me just because I was older. But it was also because I just was and still am a nurturing person who likes to make others feel comfortable.

Becoming a teacher was a given for me by the time I started high school. I made plans to not only learn as much as I could about teaching in New York but also around the world. I was determined to go to England and learn what I could about their system of education which I did end up doing for 6 months in 1988. I can remember observing in a few schools and just being gobsmacked by the abilities of the kids especially in the area of working together in small groups which is now a daily reality in my life. But in 1988 at age 20 it just amazed me, and I let every teacher I spoke to know how impressive it was. I can recall the now familiar dead-eyed stares from a few teachers who clearly were burned out by the challenges of teaching. They chuckled, wished me luck, and went back to their cigarettes and card games in the faculty room.

I’m probably at the age now that those veterans were then but I still find so much about teaching invigorating. I’m a student at heart and love nothing more than a professional development meeting that actually does further my skills. This is the main reason I left the classroom to step into the role of literacy coaching in the recent past. I wanted to provide the tools, materials, and knowledge that I had received and help others teachers avoid that “dead eyed” look. In the end, I realized that although teaching and coaching were similar, I just missed working the kids too much. So, here I am teaching a primary grade at age 51 with 28 years of educational experience under my belt. Many of my colleagues that I started teaching with are looking at the retirement horizon and counting down the days. Why can’t I do that?

It doesn’t have to do with not wanting to retire. As one of my favorite memes from the movie “The Help” says…”I is tired. I is poor. I is a teacher.” There are days that I wish I could retire immediately due to my absolute disgust over how public education is run. Watching resources not being used equitably and urban classrooms being converted from places of learning to basic “life triage” rooms for damaged children is extremely frustrating. And I want you to think about this: I’m a professional with 28 years of experience working for less than $70,000 a year (and I’m considered well-paid in my field). I have spent thousands of dollars not only on my education (2 degrees) but also on scissors, glue sticks, books, crayons, storage bins, books, snacks for hungry kids, gloves, pencils, valentines, books, and a million other things that my kids needed but no one could supply. Find me a doctor, lawyer, or architect who has the same qualifications and experience, who buys their own supplies, and who makes less than me (teaching- the only career where you steal things from home to bring to work). It will be a long search. If I could retire and live a comfortable life, believe me I would.

But retirement scares me. Not only the financial side of it but much more. My whole identity is wrapped up with my career which I know is not the healthiest thing in the world. Many teachers have families and that helps fill in the space left after retiring. Who am I going to be when I’m no longer Ms. Lo? Well, this is something that I’ve been thinking a lot about. Here is what I have figured out so far:

I am a writer.- I am so much better at expressing my feelings in writing than in the spoken word. This blog is helping me get back into the habit of writing which has always been so therapeutic for me. It also is talent that I believe I have underused in my life…up until now. One of my goals for the future is to be a published writer. I’m not sure how this is going to come about but I do know that I need to build time for writing into every day. It not only is good for me but it is a waste of my God-given talent if I don’t use it more.

I am a learner.– My favorite genre is nonfiction, and it shows across my many bookshelves. Like I said above, I love me a good pd session, but those can be few and far between especially when you work in an urban district that cannot get any substitutes in to cover for pd days (or sick days for that matter). So, I have applied to be a candidate for the Ph.D program in Literacy at SUNY Albany. I realize that if I am accepted, student Fran may push writer Fran to the side for quite a while. But with the amounts of writing I’ll be doing in the program I figure that writer Fran will be too busy to complain much.

I am a spiritual being.- This has been a huge realization for me. I have been learning so much about myself as I have read and interacted with like-minded spiritualists who feel a strong sense of connection to Spirit, the Divine, God, the Universe, or whatever label you want to throw on it. Through my spiritual readings and actions, I have begun to realize that I have wounds from childhood that are only now beginning to heal. But what is wonderful is that spiritual Fran has transformed how she views herself and the world.No longer do I consider myself my own worst enemy. I make a practice of talking to myself as I do to my friends (with slightly more cursing at times). I have a ways to go but I am now enjoying the journey of my life instead of being anxious all the time and am becoming my own cheerleader. Go me! (Too much? OK, namaste then).

I am a woman in love. – Didn’t see that one coming, did you? Yeah, well neither did I. I guess I should qualify that statement by saying I am a woman who is ready to love. I still feel a connection to a special man who has been out of my life for a few years now. When I lost him, I really felt like it was the end of the world. Some of my happiest days contained time spent laughing with him. I do think about him often and have really wanted to renew a friendship with him. But part of my spiritual journey has made me realize that I need to let go of always wanting to be in control when it comes to relationships. I used to be desperate to be loved so I would try to push, push, push myself into someone’s heart. All that did was make me feel unworthy and the man pressured or turned off. So, I’m trying to “let go and let God”. If we’re meant to be together, then I know somehow we will be. Who knows? Maybe he’ll read this blog and reach out. (See! Push, push, push…I’m trying!) But I also know that my heart is stronger now than before so even if I never see my guy again, I will love another. That is something Ms. Lo never could admit to. Yeah, Loving Fran is really kind of kick-ass courageous.

I’ve been trying to link each blog post to a specific lyric to an Avett Brother song. I have actually found the song lyrics help inspire my writing (Thank you Scott and Seth Avett). But I feel that one part of this song isn’t enough to describe the kind of overhaul I see my life getting this year. Yeah, I’m looking to tear down the whole darn house. So, I’m posting the entire lyrics below. Writer Fran thanks for you reading.

Tear Down the House written by Scott and Seth Avett

Tear down the house that I grew up in.
I’ll never be the same again.
Take everything that I’ve collected,
and throw it in a pile.

Bulldoze the woods that I ran through.
Carry the pictures of me and you.
I have no memory of who I once was,
and I don’t remember your name.

Park the old car that I love the best.
Inspection’s due and it won’t pass the test.
It’s funny how I have to put it to rest,
and how one day I will join it.

I remember crying over you,
and I don’t mean like a couple of tears and I’m blue.
I’m talking about collapsing and screaming at the moon,
but I’m a better man for having gone through it.
Yes, I’m a better man for having gone through.

Ever since I learned how to curse.
I’ve been using those sorry old words.
But I’m talking to these children and I’m keeping it clean.
I don’t need those words to say what I mean.
No, I don’t need those words to say what I mean

Tear down the house that I grew up in.
I’ll never be the same again.
Take everything that I used to own,
and burn it in a pile

Bulldoze the woods that I ran through.
Carry the pictures of me and you.
I have no memory of who I once was,
and I don’t remember your name.

By now you may have figured out that I am obsessed with the music and lyrics of the Avett Brothers. If you’re a college student or recent graduate, you may be wondering why I’m so late to the party. I just can’t get enough of their songs and am discovering new ones every day. I look up lyrics that I can’t make out and realize that they really are speaking about some deep topics: death, family bonds, fierce independence. “No Hard Feelings’ and “Murder in the City” are two of the most brutally honest songs about facing death with no regrets (at least that is how I interpret the words…as a writer I feel that only the writers know for sure what the inspiration and intended message is) that I have ever heard. But the songs that touch my heart the most are the ones that deal with love. Soppy Scorpio that I am, I just can’t get enough of their love songs.

My favorite that I’ve discovered so far is the title of this post. It details a young man’s pleas to his girlfriend not to let the outside world (i.e. mom, dad) intrude on their very own private world inside a laundry room. Whenever I play it (which to be honest is usually 3-30 times a week), I imagine these young lovers who have no idea of how complicated and confusing real love can be. I can see my younger self throwing caution to the wind and professing my love to the boy I think is going to solve all of my problems. The young man in the song is, of course, a song writer who wakes up “…with a head full of songs” that he immediately writes down only to have to destroy later because “every chorus was your name”. That sweet obsessive love is so familiar to me and transports me back to the various musicians that I’ve dated in the past.

The sweet and nostalgic tone of that song is in such stark contrast to what I have discovered about romantic love in recent years. After being burned one too many times by romantic partners, I just came to the decision that love wasn’t in the cards for me. I really developed the mind set (cue the violins) that there was something about me that wasn’t conducive to the kind of love that I saw others sharing all around me. Yeah, I know. Totally self-defeating and it created a self-fulfilling prophecy. I believed my “unlovability” into existence. I often felt sorry for myself and brought on fits of depression that caused me to make bad decisions in other areas of my life. Then the real world stepped in and gave me a kick in the teeth. My father was diagnosed with leukemia, and I spent the next year or so watching the first man I ever loved succumb to it. Losing my father was one of the saddest experiences of my life but led me to one that opened up my heart to love once again.

About 4 months after my dad died, I was hired to teach in a new district. At this point in my career, I had chucked away several good positions due to that depression I wrote about earlier. I was convinced that I wasn’t ever going to teach in New York again and was making plans to move away when the offer came about. It was really synchronistic not only because I fell in love but because my dad had predicted it. He was sure I would work again in a public school in New York and encouraged me to be patient. I placated him at the time but felt sure that I would be moving in the upcoming months. When the job offer came through, I was elated. It was early August and I began eagerly setting up my room.

One day in late August I was putting finishing touches on my room when this handsome blue-eyed older man with a scruffy beard appeared at my “pod” (classrooms with no walls…so stupid!). He found my briefcase which I had accidently left by the front door and brought it up to me. It wasn’t love at first sight but more like a feeling like “Oh, there you are!”. In the following weeks I slowly realized that I was attracted to him which amazed me since I hadn’t had feelings like that in a long time. By this time I had my depression under control so any positive feelings were not only welcome but celebrated. He was a natural flirt as I noticed him starting conversations with our numerous female colleagues. But I felt that when he came to talk to me, there was something more. We had a lot in common and talking with him came easily which is something that just didn’t come naturally to me when it came to men to whom I was attracted. He made me laugh, he made me think, and then he made me laugh again. I started looking forward to hearing him sing in the hallway on the way to my room. The romantic in me was starting to get excited when all of a sudden I realized one day in late September that he was married. Yeah, game over.

I fought my feelings and tried to tell myself that I should just enjoy the attention he was giving me. Nothing even slightly risque or inappropriate occurred between us yet this feeling of guilt overtook me. I tried to stay away from him and encourage him to do the same, but it only increased my desire to see him. We ended up remaining friends for a while until he started to sense that I had deeper feelings. He then cut me out of his life completely and rightly so. I missed him and his easy going laughter but I knew that it was the right decision. There have been other male interests since him but truth be told, I still have a place for him in my heart.

What I’ve realized about “adult love” as opposed to the kind of sweet young love that the Avett Brothers sing about is that it is a steady and sober kind of feeling. If what you are feeling is real love, then you are balancing it with self-respect and kindness towards yourself too. Obsession, shame, guilt…this was anything but love. What I felt for my guy started out so natural and innocent but warped into an ugly thing that could have destroyed my life. My younger self would have let it. When I finally let him go, it expressed the real love I do hold for him in my heart. But more importantly I showed myself the compassion and self-love that I never would have shown to my younger self. I would love to be able to talk to my guy and thank him for being strong enough to resist any temptation he may have felt to be with me. By respecting his marriage vows and being loyal to his wife, he gave me the opportunity to cultivate the adult kind of love I feel for him. It’s no laundry room, but my memories of him now can warm my heart just the same.

My mother is a pretty amazing person. When I think about her accomplishments, it really does amaze me. She came to America as a married 17 year old getting severly sea sick on her journey from Sicily on a huge cargo ship. She was supposed to be supervising her younger brother and cousin, but they left her to her sick room as they roamed the ship. She was determined to get right to work once she arrived. In between working at various factories and at her sister’s bakery, by her mid 20s she became a mother to my older sister. She had me at 30 and my younger sister at 32 while starting her own business with my father in the early 1970s. Like a lot of amazing mothers, she had a strong mother behind her who took on the task of watching my sister and I during the week while watching another batch of grandchildren on the weekends. Mom missed out on a lot of the one on one time with us which made Mondays our special day since it was the lone day of the week she didn’t “work” (which of course meant that instead of serving customers she did double the housework and served us at home). Three businesses later (a bakery in Lake George, a successful restaurant also in Lake George, and a regretted restaurant in Hoosick Falls), she finally stopped working outside the home around age 67.

Growing up my proudest moments were when I could get her to say in an exasperated tone, “You’re just like your father!”. I felt an affinity with my father who shared my love for reading and my sense of humor. We were the quiet and shy ones in the family….unless we were in one of our moods. I could be as nasty, as distant, and as cold as my father when I wanted to and of course, my mother was usually the one who was the recipient of the unkindness. I always got along with the moms of my friends and could see their strength and goodness. Instead of recognizing this in my own mother, I resented her “tell it like it is” personality which was the antithesis to my cautious one. I also took her for granted more times than I care to remember. From home cooked meals to money for albums to freshly laundered clothes every Saturday, she somehow juggled her work and home responsibilities with an apparent ease. She seemed to know what her role as a mother was and kept it balanced even while working outside of the home. Even though I may have spent more time in my younger years with my grandmother, there was no question in my mind who my mother was and who I wanted to be with. I felt that I had a traditional mom, not one of those modern liberated 70s moms that I saw on tv.

Truth be told, my mom has always had a soul of an adventurer and a feisty one at that. Even though she rarely travelled beyond returning to Italy and a few trips to Florida, she always seemed fearless when it came to solving problems. I can count on one hand the number of times I ever saw her totally overcome by a situation. She was logical and made decisions that were best for her family and that was that. Whereas I am more timid about doing what is best for me, she would insist that I do what was best for me…unless it was the opposite of what she wanted for me but I guess that is a mother’s prerogative. She never truly understood why I liked to read so much and as proud as she may have been of my accomplishments as an educator, I know she would have been just as happy to have me be a married mother of three. Which is where, finally, my mom and I share some common ground.

I look at my life in comparison to my mother’s life and see it wanting in so many ways. I’ve always considered my life purpose was to become a mother. I always assumed I’d eventually have a family even as I pursued my degrees. Because like my mom, I know I could have found a way to manage juggling a career and a family like she did. I would probably be a much different kind of mother but no less devoted. Out of all the career options I could have taken, teaching was the only one I seriously considered as far back as I can remember because I loved being around children. And don’t get me wrong, teaching has been wonderful for me. I am proud of all the children I have helped and of the kind of teacher I am. But the truth is, I would trade it all to have my own family. Teaching is starting to feel like a second-best option. Yet at 51, I don’t see motherhood on the horizon anymore.

I remember that my older sister once told me (when my mother and I were squabbling) that my mother might be jealous of the kind of freedom I’ve enjoyed in my life. She never got to live on her own or experience the kind of autonomy that I have had. She went from her father’s house to her husband’s and for a fierce woman like “Miss Ellie”, that couldn’t always be so easy. I didn’t understand it then but now that the shoe is on the other foot, I guess I do. We each make our own decisions that shape our path in life. My mom chose love at a young age and remains loyal to her role as a mother even as her current condition slowly erodes her memory and her capabilities to nurture us. I have had chances at love which never seemed to work out. Yet I have created a fulfilling life with friends and family who love me unconditionally. And I can now help nurture and take care of the woman who always had her children at the center of her world.

The Avett Brothers sing about the dangers of not being grateful for what you have:

The more I have the more I think,
I’m almost where I need to be
If only I could get a little more…Ill with want and poisoned by this ugly greed

So on this snowy night, I’m going to focus on the love I do have in my life and be grateful for the time I still have with Miss Ellie. As different as we may be, as changed as her personality becomes as dementia takes hold, I will always be there for her as she has been for me. Hopefully, the “ugly greed” of wanting it all will slowly dissipate into a beautiful appreciation of the life I do have.

It can’t come as a surprise to many that with a name like Francesca Angela that I was raised as a Roman Catholic. Yes, I wore those cute little uniforms in elementary school and middle school and what I came to despise as those exasperatingly boring pleated skirts and blouses in high school. I received all the sacraments and attended church most Sundays until I was about 15 (Mom stopped trying to force us to go around then but kept piling on the guilt well into my 20s). I read along with the bible readings and Gospels, sang the songs, and kneeled on cue. On the outside it seemed like I had a strong relationship with God when all it actually added up to was reciting prayers and psalms that gave me no comfort and that were based on a false and fearful version of God.

As an adult I revisited my relationship with God when our family started losing one person after another. Within a space of about 3 years in my early twenties, I lost my cherished cousin, Nino, my paternal grandmother, my cousin’s very young husband, Jerry (who was father to a precious 2 year old girl and an as of yet born son), and my beautiful Aunt Debbie. These deaths rocked my foundation and caused me to lean on my faith for support and answers. Of course, there were no adequate answers but there was a wonderful priest, Fr. Thomas Bradley. Fr. Bradley is the kind of man who exudes love and goodness. He is what all priests should be: kind, supportive, faithful to his chosen religion, and down to earth. I never felt uncomfortable talking to him, like he was some holy relic that you couldn’t look directly in the eyes for fear of him seeing every sin you ever committed. He truly practiced what he preached. During my 20s and 30s he officiated most weddings in my family and was present to give comfort at the many funerals I attended. I started going to mass again because of his homilies. I got strength from hearing his take on the gospels. He represented my pipeline to God. When he wasn’t saying the mass, I felt cheated out of my messages from God. His words were my pathway to hearing back from God. Fr. Bradley retired last year for a well-deserved retirement.

As you can probably guess, there aren’t many Fr. Bradleys out there. I’m not saying I stopped attending mass because of one priest or another but I can say that I hadn’t found one who made me think and feel like Fr. Bradley. I’m not even averse to attending mass again if I could find another priest who has that peaceful aura that surrounded Fr. Bradley. But I really felt a giant hole in my soul when I stopped going. Around September of last year I started searching for another way to connect with God. I never believed that you had to attend a church, synagogue, or temple to honor God. But I also didn’t know if just talking to Him in my prayers every night worked either. This is when I became interested in Archangels. A man named Radleigh Valentine introduced me to the act of calling on angels to protect me and to help me with various parts of my life. I began doing that through the use of oracle cards and good old fashion praying directly to God. A sense of peace began to arise after reading the cards or sensing an answer to the problem in my prayer. I began to feel a healing within me that has continued to this day. Since then I have read so many books on spiritual connection to the Universe which to me is just a nickname for God (others call it a higher power, Divine Light, etc. Toma-toe, Tomah-to for me). I realized that God has been within me all along and He was guiding me through the maze of triumphs and pitfalls of my life.

Today I communicate with God daily. Yeah, I think He’d prefer if I didn’t use certain phrases so liberally (Are you fucking kidding me? is one I could probably get rid of), but I also know so much more about my self-worth. You see, I now understand that we are all part of the Divine. We are all made from Love which means we all have the capabilities to be reflections of God (and for me that includes Jesus and the Holy Spirit but that may not resonate for all). The fact that I have suffered from depression and anxiety in the past stemmed from me not truly understanding that fact. Low self-esteem and other forms of self-torture are not reflections of who we truly are. That is the work of what people call many different things: the devil, Ego, the world, the shadow self. God didn’t make any mistakes. We are all created out of love so we all have the greatest worth. It’s the other stuff that gets in the way.

I used to hate the phrase “for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.” I took it quite literally to mean that after death we are reduced to nothing but left over filth on the ground. But now I feel that this verse really is talking about our souls returning to the Divine after death. The dust is the material out of which we were formed which I believe is eternal love. I also believe our souls are our true essence, and that they choose to come back to this world to learn more lessons. And this brings me back to the idea of transformation in 2019. I’m starting to realize that my soul is here to learn a few things including how to recognize my self-worth and how to connect at a deep level with certain members of my “soul family”. I don’t mean just the members of my family in this lifetime. I’m referring to those people who I just had a connection within from day 1. You probably have a few friends or loved ones that fit this category. You felt a “click” from the beginning. I haven’t had a lot of those connections but there is one connection that was like this for me from the get go. I think this person is part of my soul family and is in my life to teach me the lesson of letting go of control. Let go and let God is one of the most deceptively simple phrases ever. Yet I am finally learning that for the good of my soul I need to really do that with him. Even though I miss him and long to hear from him, I can’t control his actions. All I can do is what we all can do for those to whom we feel connected to: send love to them and pray for them, in whatever form suits us. If we are part of the same soul family, then I believe we eventually will be together again either in this life or the next.

The Avett Brothers wrote “…me and God don’t need no middle man”. I believe this with all my heart. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like the scene from “Stepbrothers”(one of the funniest and most stupid movies of all time) where Brennan says to Dale, ““Did we just become best friends?”. While I still view God as my creator and my savior and not my equal, there is no fear or call to be perfect anymore. I’m going to use 2019 to start listening more to that little spark of Divine within me and make choices that are the best for my soul. I hope all of you can find that spark too.

Welcome to the first post on my new blog, One Foot In, One Foot Back. If you have known me for a while, you may have read some of my entries on my previous blog called Making Beauty Out of Ugly Things. Consider this an updated version of that blog. I plan on writing on a variety of topics as they come to mind. You will probably see entries about music (like this one), spirituality, children, baseball, and a number of other interests that make up the person I am today. One of my sisters told me that my writing is quite depressing which may be true since I do use writing to work out my emotions at times (as a Scorpio, deep emotions and working things out on my own comes naturally). However, I hope that some of my sense of humor comes out at times. I also hope that you will feel free to respond to my writing whether through commenting below or through other means. I’m hoping to learn a lot as I write and interact with an online community.

I’m beginning this blog in January, 2019, which I feel is going to be a big year for me as far as transformation goes. When I have mentioned transformation (another Scorpio characteristic) in the past, my friends and family have braced themselves to hear about my latest job change, where I am moving to, what new color hair I am trying, or some other wacky idea which would trouble my practical minded friends (okay, maybe the turquoise hair didn’t suit me). But I think the kind of transformation I’m talking about this time is one that won’t rock the boat so much. I want 2019 to be the year that I take care of me. Now, being single and 51, one may think that I must be used to taking care of myself. I have had no husband or children to nurture, support, or put before fulfilling my own needs. Yet there have been days, weeks, and even months where I have felt drained from the demands of my career and from the nonsense of being codependent in a number of relationships. I’m ready to really take care of myself in every sense of the phrase. And I’m beginning with music.

J.K. Rowling wrote in the first Harry Potter book, “Ah, music,” he said, wiping his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here!”. Music has always been magic for my soul. Whether it was the sugary sweet lyrics of Andy Gibb or the ragged dangerous chords of Keith Richards, music has always been a tonic for me when the world would get too tough. It has always helped to establish an emotional and mental balance which has given me a positive perspective on life even as the lyrics may have pulled on my heartstrings. Learning to play guitar has been a melancholic joy that has opened a new facet of music as I struggle with finding chords that fit together. I have always admired musicians, and now have empathy with how hard the creative process can be.

Those who know me are well aware of my love for bands like U2, the Killers, and the Rolling Stones. Singers/songwriters like Stevie Nicks and Bruce Springsteen have also been decades long favorites of mine. My last blog title was taken from a lyric in U2’s song called “Grace”, and when starting to think about the title for this blog I considered using the same title. But keeping inline with my intention for 2019, I decided to choose a name from my most recent favorite band who have been my lifeline on dark days: the Avett Brothers. I felt like this was appropriate because many of their songs have helped me get through some tough times I experienced in 2018. To say their music soothes my soul may be cliche, but it is also the God honest truth. The harmonies that Seth and Scott Avett produce are so beautiful and expressed with such a soulful accompaniment of instruments as varied as the banjo and the cello that they make me smile and cry while inspiring me to be my best self. Seeing them live this year is a must for me.

My new blog title is taken from a song called “I And Love And You”. The whole lyric reads, “One foot in and one foot back/ Well, it don’t pay to live like that”. These few words from this heartbreaking song really called out to me because it seemed to describe how I have lived most of my life. I have been afraid to take chances in some areas like relationships and adoption, while showing bravery regularly in others. When I made progress in one area of my life, it seemed like I would revert to a bad habit in another area and usually that area had to do with my self-care. So, while it may seem like this title has a negative connotation, I prefer to see it as a signpost encouraging me not to live like that anymore. 2019 has a whole ocean of new experiences waiting for us all. While I am already moving forward in my career, I am not putting my own needs to the side. I’m ready to jump in with both feet. And I encourage you to do the same.