I'm always a little hesitant whenever I write a blog entry about something that could be misconstrued as bragging. This could be like that, but it is not my intention. I was just reminded today of how lucky I am, and I am so thankful.
Several teachers at my school have had to give state-mandated tests over the last couple of days. Fortunately for me, I have not had to give these tests in my classes, but the whole process did impact my classroom.
These tests have to be administered online, and guess who has a ton of computer labs...my department! So myself, and the other business teachers, have had to be flexible and accommodate the influx of teachers that needed to use our rooms. The whole process hasn't been that bad though, and the scheduling has seemed to work out relatively seamlessly.
I share an adjoining door with another business teacher, and I can frequently hear her teach and vice versa. But it is never a disruption or a problem. Unfortunately this afternoon, I had another teacher in that classroom, and I heard him/her yelling and screaming at his/her students repeatedly. (NOTE: I have some coworkers that read this blog, so I am being gender-neutral in my description of this teacher.)
I guess it surprised me, because I am not a yeller or screamer. My students all behave VERY well, and I get it done without raising my voice or losing my composure. Have I yelled at students in the past? Of course. Have I done it often...or even lately? No. It's not effective, and it doesn't work for me. I get more from my students by treating them with respect and having high expectations of them.
Admittedly the teacher in the other classroom was under a lot of stress. These poor teachers were given very little time to administer these tests, and of course they were completely dependent on technology. Unfortunately, several of the computers did have some technical problems, but that's what happens when (the district) provides such a narrow window for testing.
When this teacher continued to yell and scream at his/her students, the first thing I did was tell my students how great I thought they were. I thanked them for being such a good class and for letting me keep my sanity. It was at that time when one of my students told me that he had this particular teacher in class, and he/she was like this every day.
That made me sad...for the teacher AND the students. Teaching is a rough job, and I have had classes that have pushed me to the limit. For example my 5th hour class that I had in the fall semester of 2005 could be the fodder for a lot of therapy. But these classes are very few and far between. I just can't imagine what it would be like to ALWAYS be on edge with your students. That made me realize how lucky I was to have the rapport that I have with my students. I love my job. It's a simple as that.
It also made me sad for the students. I have been that good kid in the bad class before. I had a particular teacher in high school who would explode in anger from time-to-time. I was always on edge, and I could never relax, because I was always waiting for the explosion. When i became a teacher, I vowed to NEVER make my kids nervous. I wanted my classroom to be a safe and calm place. Thankfully, I think I have been successful with this goal.
After 13 years of teaching, it can become easy to lose sight of things. I have taken for granted the fact that my students are so well-behaved. Unfortunately, it took seeing a teacher on the brink of "losing it" to realize how good I have it. I am so thankful and blessed.
May 27, 2009
May 15, 2009
"Kevin the Advocate"
A couple of days ago a student, John, came into my classroom to talk to me about something. While I have never personally had John in class, I have gotten to know him quite well, and he is a very impressive person.
John is in a wheelchair, and he has a mild form of cerebral palsy. He is a senior, so he only has a few days left of school. He plans on going to college to major in political science and eventually go on to law school. So I'm very excited that he is going to get out into the world and show it that people with disabilities can be successful contributors to society. This, obviously, is one thing that I strive to do every day.
I'll get to the reason why John came into my classroom in a bit, but I want to mention how I first got to know him. Last year the teacher across the hall from me told me about how one of his students was having trouble with an accessibility issue at school. At that time, I had never spoken to John, but I went to him to find out if I could help him with his problem.
Apparently one of the curb cuts in the front of the school was at a grade that was too steep and the pavement also contained a huge lip in it. So essentially John would go down the curb cut everyday and hit the lip...and sometimes he would fall out of his chair.
He had gone to the principal, that is in charge of building and grounds, with his situation, and unfortunately he had not had any success. The principal tried to help, but he really didn't fully understand the problem, and John was having a hard time lighting a fire under him, as well.
So I became his advocate, and his situation was remedied once I mentioned getting the school board involved. It's amazing how those two little words can get things moving in my district!
So John came to me the other day because of his concerns about an incoming freshman student. This new student has Spina Bifida, just like I do, and he is apparently VERY apprehensive about making the transition to high school. John asked me if I could help out this incoming student, just like I had helped him. I told him that I would do whatever it took to make this kid comfortable. I was terrified of starting high school, and I wish I would have had someone around to let me know that everything was going to be alright.
Helping John out, and now helping this incoming freshman, gives me such personal satisfaction, and I have been trying to think of other ways that I could spread my message around.
In a perfect world, I would LOVE to be a motivational speaker. I have TONS of great stories, and I know that I could get the audience laughing. Since I am not married, I really would have no problem flying from city-to-city and doing keynote speeches, etc. Of course, I would have to give up teaching...or maybe take a one-year sabbatical, but it is something that I have really been thinking about for my future.
In the here and now, I have been corresponding with a woman that has an infant daughter with Spina Bifida. I have really enjoyed answering her questions and concerns and being a resource for her. I really want to do more of this kind of thing, with lots and lots of people.
So I have a fire in my now. I know that I want to help as many people as possible in this world. I just first need to get more people to read this blog. I want to reach more people, and I want to share my stories.
Helping people is why I got into teaching. It is the key component of my personality. I can't wait to see where this personality trait will take me in life. It's been a fun ride so far.
John is in a wheelchair, and he has a mild form of cerebral palsy. He is a senior, so he only has a few days left of school. He plans on going to college to major in political science and eventually go on to law school. So I'm very excited that he is going to get out into the world and show it that people with disabilities can be successful contributors to society. This, obviously, is one thing that I strive to do every day.
I'll get to the reason why John came into my classroom in a bit, but I want to mention how I first got to know him. Last year the teacher across the hall from me told me about how one of his students was having trouble with an accessibility issue at school. At that time, I had never spoken to John, but I went to him to find out if I could help him with his problem.
Apparently one of the curb cuts in the front of the school was at a grade that was too steep and the pavement also contained a huge lip in it. So essentially John would go down the curb cut everyday and hit the lip...and sometimes he would fall out of his chair.
He had gone to the principal, that is in charge of building and grounds, with his situation, and unfortunately he had not had any success. The principal tried to help, but he really didn't fully understand the problem, and John was having a hard time lighting a fire under him, as well.
So I became his advocate, and his situation was remedied once I mentioned getting the school board involved. It's amazing how those two little words can get things moving in my district!
So John came to me the other day because of his concerns about an incoming freshman student. This new student has Spina Bifida, just like I do, and he is apparently VERY apprehensive about making the transition to high school. John asked me if I could help out this incoming student, just like I had helped him. I told him that I would do whatever it took to make this kid comfortable. I was terrified of starting high school, and I wish I would have had someone around to let me know that everything was going to be alright.
Helping John out, and now helping this incoming freshman, gives me such personal satisfaction, and I have been trying to think of other ways that I could spread my message around.
In a perfect world, I would LOVE to be a motivational speaker. I have TONS of great stories, and I know that I could get the audience laughing. Since I am not married, I really would have no problem flying from city-to-city and doing keynote speeches, etc. Of course, I would have to give up teaching...or maybe take a one-year sabbatical, but it is something that I have really been thinking about for my future.
In the here and now, I have been corresponding with a woman that has an infant daughter with Spina Bifida. I have really enjoyed answering her questions and concerns and being a resource for her. I really want to do more of this kind of thing, with lots and lots of people.
So I have a fire in my now. I know that I want to help as many people as possible in this world. I just first need to get more people to read this blog. I want to reach more people, and I want to share my stories.
Helping people is why I got into teaching. It is the key component of my personality. I can't wait to see where this personality trait will take me in life. It's been a fun ride so far.
May 3, 2009
Update Time
This entry will be short and sweet, and if you don't understand it, just look at the end of my entry about the marathon.
15 SECONDS!!!
15 SECONDS!!!
April 22, 2009
My Inspiration
I have been told by many people over the years that I am a source of inspiration for them. I'm very thankful that my attitude and perseverance has helped people, but I have to share something that has really changed my perspective and way of thinking.
This past Sunday I was at the finish line, in a cold driving rain, to see my sister and her husband complete a 1/2 marathon and my brother complete the full marathon. I am truly impressed by the dedication and committment they have shown to reach this goal.
I know that their accomplishments took untold hours of training and preparation. They were very focused on the achievement of this goal, and they set their sights on finishing the race. The thing that makes it even more impressive is that they all live full & busy lives, and they didn't let their training affect any other parts of their lives in a negative way.
For example, my sister kept up her training schedule, worked, and took classes toward her Master's degree. My brother trained for his marathon, worked, and he also did his fatherly duties as a dad to two girls, who are both under six. His wife helped him out so he could train as much as he needed, but he still had to fit in his training around the girls...because family comes first.
From L to R--Nick (brother-in-law), Dave (brother), and Erin (sister).
An action shot of Nick and Erin
So how did this affect me? I realized something about myself. I have accomplished a lot in my life, but I tend to "react" to my environment, and I am generally not a goal-setter. Most of my accomplishments stem from a challenge that I was faced with, and I wanted to overcome. If you put a brick wall in my way, I will fight like a dog to either get over it, around it, under it, or smash right through it.
But I give up much too easily with my goals. I tend to make lofty goals, and then say "screw it" when I experience a setback. That's not the fighting spirit that I want to show the world! I'm not sure why this happens, but I have recognized it now.
My brother and I were talking about it, and he gave me some excellent advice. He told me that if his initial goal in running, was to complete a marathon he would never have done it. It's just too daunting. He reminded me of a time when a mutual friend of our's invited him to Tulsa to run in a 15K. At that time my brother turned him down, because he knew that he could not run 9 miles. Now, several years later, he has run 26, and although he looked tired at the finish line on Sunday, he still finished strong.
So I am reassessing my goals, and I'm working on making them more manageable. For example, I have been thinking a lot about my crutches lately. I haven't even really used them since 1996. So my goal is to start using them more. Instead of trying to focus on getting back to the stamina that I once had, I'm going to focus on being able to stand on my crutches for 15 seconds, then 30, and so on. These goals are achievable, and whenever I get frustrated, I won't say "screw it."
I'm also going to remember something else I heard from my brother. He talked to me, about how he had to just keep putting one foot in front of the other. There were times during his race when he had to take a break and walk. But he didn't stop moving or give up. He walked for a bit, got his energy back, and continued on his path toward his goal.
So my three family members have provided me with a huge gift. They have shown me what is possible when you set achievable goals, and you just keep striving to reach them. Tonight I stood on my crutches for a whopping 8 seconds...but hey that's over halfway to my first goal! :)
This past Sunday I was at the finish line, in a cold driving rain, to see my sister and her husband complete a 1/2 marathon and my brother complete the full marathon. I am truly impressed by the dedication and committment they have shown to reach this goal.
I know that their accomplishments took untold hours of training and preparation. They were very focused on the achievement of this goal, and they set their sights on finishing the race. The thing that makes it even more impressive is that they all live full & busy lives, and they didn't let their training affect any other parts of their lives in a negative way.
For example, my sister kept up her training schedule, worked, and took classes toward her Master's degree. My brother trained for his marathon, worked, and he also did his fatherly duties as a dad to two girls, who are both under six. His wife helped him out so he could train as much as he needed, but he still had to fit in his training around the girls...because family comes first.
From L to R--Nick (brother-in-law), Dave (brother), and Erin (sister).
An action shot of Nick and Erin
So how did this affect me? I realized something about myself. I have accomplished a lot in my life, but I tend to "react" to my environment, and I am generally not a goal-setter. Most of my accomplishments stem from a challenge that I was faced with, and I wanted to overcome. If you put a brick wall in my way, I will fight like a dog to either get over it, around it, under it, or smash right through it.
But I give up much too easily with my goals. I tend to make lofty goals, and then say "screw it" when I experience a setback. That's not the fighting spirit that I want to show the world! I'm not sure why this happens, but I have recognized it now.
My brother and I were talking about it, and he gave me some excellent advice. He told me that if his initial goal in running, was to complete a marathon he would never have done it. It's just too daunting. He reminded me of a time when a mutual friend of our's invited him to Tulsa to run in a 15K. At that time my brother turned him down, because he knew that he could not run 9 miles. Now, several years later, he has run 26, and although he looked tired at the finish line on Sunday, he still finished strong.
So I am reassessing my goals, and I'm working on making them more manageable. For example, I have been thinking a lot about my crutches lately. I haven't even really used them since 1996. So my goal is to start using them more. Instead of trying to focus on getting back to the stamina that I once had, I'm going to focus on being able to stand on my crutches for 15 seconds, then 30, and so on. These goals are achievable, and whenever I get frustrated, I won't say "screw it."
I'm also going to remember something else I heard from my brother. He talked to me, about how he had to just keep putting one foot in front of the other. There were times during his race when he had to take a break and walk. But he didn't stop moving or give up. He walked for a bit, got his energy back, and continued on his path toward his goal.
So my three family members have provided me with a huge gift. They have shown me what is possible when you set achievable goals, and you just keep striving to reach them. Tonight I stood on my crutches for a whopping 8 seconds...but hey that's over halfway to my first goal! :)
April 17, 2009
My Night of Insomnia
I had a lot of time to think while I was waiting. I looked around the sterile, cold walls of my surroundings, and I was numb and emotionally spent. The news of the previous day, coupled with all of the other crap, was more than I could deal with. I had been here too many times before--or rather, I had been to places like this before. I was weary of it all, and I just wondered when it was going to be someone else's turn. I was tired of being the guy that was always in the hospital.
Normally, I loved Christmas, but here it was just a few days before Christmas of 1990, and I was angry, frustrated, and very depressed. I had been through so much in the four years prior to that moment, and I could feel the my psyche was teetering dangerously close to the edge.
I had been from doctor to doctor, all the while hoping to find someone who would be able to fix my problem. The standard operating procedure for my life from 1986 to that very point, followed this pattern: I would go to a specialist, and he would tell me that he “thought” that he could help me, and he would “try” his best to fix it. Then, I would have a painful surgery, which was ALWAYS followed by a painful and long recovery. After a couple of months I would come to the disheartening realization that this operation hadn't worked, and then I would either have another surgery with that same doctor, or I would start the process again with another doctor. At this moment in my life, I was on my 5th doctor.
My newest doctor was an arrogant and cocky jerk. In fact, I couldn't stand him. But, he had assured me with his unmitigated smugness that he was going to be able to fix me. He didn't use words like “try” and he didn't tell me that he “thought” he could help me. I appreciated his confidence, but I wasn't convinced. I had trusted doctors before, and it had only led to more pain, both physical and emotional.
So why was I in the hospital in the first place? It all started with one of my favorite activities in the world—swimming. One summer day in 1986, I went swimming at my grandparent's pool at the Lake of the Ozarks. I had spent countless hours of my youth in that pool without incident. But, one seemingly insignificant occurrence was to forever change the course of my life.
I am a “monoplegic,” and that means that one of my limbs is paralyzed. So my right leg is essentially useless to me, but I have perfect control of my left leg. But the great thing about the water is that I don't need crutches or a wheelchair, because the water keeps me buoyant.
That's why my love of water is almost spiritual in a sense. It allows me to be just like everyone else for that brief moment that I am in that aquatic dreamworld. But as soon as I get out of the pool, I'm back to reality.
So that day, I was swimming in their pool, and I ended up dragging the top of my left foot on the bottom of the pool. I'm not sure why I did that, because I usually walk with a normal gait when I am in the pool. But I happened to drag my foot this time. The bottom of the pool happened to be a little rough, so it gave the top of my foot a mild abrasion. My left foot is actually my “good” foot, so I did feel it when it happened, but it didn't hurt. As I said, it was merely a little scrape.
The next day I made a horrible decision, and with hindsight being 20/20, I can only imagine what my life would have been like had I not made this error in judgment. My family and I went swimming again, but this time we went swimming in the actual lake, itself. We put a band-aid on my scrape, and we enjoyed our afternoon in the water.
About a week later I noticed that my foot was starting to hurt, and that my scrape was not healing. In fact, it looked like it was getting worse. Then soon after that, I noticed that I was developing the signs of infection.
I'm going to gloss over and consolidate the next part, because it is quite detailed and graphic. But, this tiny little scrape grew into a RAGING infection in my foot, and I had a very serious nonhealing wound. So, I went to see my first doctor.
This just started the chain of events that I referenced earlier. I went from specialist to specialist, and I endured some very severe surgeries. I am so thankful for my parents, because most of the post-surgical care that I had to do could only be done with the help of my mom and dad. With my limited mobility, they were able to do things to my foot that I could not do, and I'm so thankful that they were there.
It was at that time when I transitioned from being ambulatory and on my crutches, to being in the wheelchair. It just hurt too much to walk on my foot. Besides, the doctors wanted me to keep weight off the foot, if possible. I would still use the crutches from time-to-time, but the switchover had essentially begun.
So back to me waiting in the hospital room. I had been waiting for some important news from the doctor. His plan to “fix” my foot included doing some intensive vascular surgery on my foot. He had me come into the hospital a day early so I could have a medical test done to assess the circulation and blood flow in my foot and lower leg. So the results of this test were very important to me and the success of the surgery.
When the doctor finally entered my hospital room, I could tell that something was amiss. He didn't have his usual swagger. In fact, he was very close to showing actual human compassion. He said the words that I still remember, 18 ½ years later. “Kevin, the results of the test aren't good. Your blood flow is not what we were hoping for. I'm going to do my best to avoid this, but I wanted to let you know that there is a possibility that I'll have to amputate your leg, below-the-knee during the surgery.”
I felt that I had been kicked in the chest by a team of mules. I didn't know what to say. I mean, this was my GOOD FOOT and GOOD LEG. I did everything with this leg, and my independence was clearly dependent on it.
My parents also had a stunned look on their faces, and the doctor assured us that he didn't think he would have to amputate. He was going to do everything in his power to keep that from happening, but he wanted us to know that there was a chance. He then left the room and went home.
We sat in stunned silence for awhile. Collectively, my parents and I had been through so much during those last four years, and we didn't quite know what to say. My parents said that they were sure that everything was going to be alright, and I really do think that they believed that...but I didn't.
They stayed until visiting hours were over, and then they said their goodbyes. Thus began, the worst night of sleep that I have ever had. I started thinking about how my life was going to be so different, if I didn't have my left leg. I used my left leg for driving, and really everything as far as my mobility was concerned. I tried to think about how I was going to transfer in and out of my chair without using my legs..and only my arms. Try it yourself, it's close to impossible.
Besides that stressor, I was still reeling from some news that I had heard the day before. I was extremely involved in my high school youth group, and the people in the group were some of my best friends. I got a call from one of my friends in the group, and he asked if he could come visit me in my hospital room. I told him that I had a medical test scheduled for later on in the day, but he was welcome to come before it.
I was extremely surprised when EVERYONE from my youth group came streaming into my room....everyone, save for one. My friends went on to tell me that my friend Beth had died in a house fire that morning. Her parents and brother had made it out alive, but she couldn't get out of her room. I didn't know what to say, but I cried and shared the moment with all of my special friends that were there.
After they left, I had a strange realization. Everyone that I loved was in my home, while I was stuck in this hospital room. I felt utterly helpless. I started to think about how something awful could happen to my family, and I was going to be left alone. The mind plays tricks on you when you have too much time to think.
So that night before the surgery, my head was full of worry. I was worried about myself. I was worried about my family's safety. I was worried about Beth's family. You name it...I thought about it that night. I think I drifted off to sleep at about 4:30 that morning.
I was woken up early, because my surgery had been scheduled for early in the morning. I remember kissing and hugging my parents goodbye and being whisked to the operating room.
I was still very nervous, but fortunately the anesthesia did its trick, and I was able to start to relax. I drifted off to sleep, and then I awoke to choking. I had a very hard time waking up from the anesthesia and my oxygen level got a little low, so they kept me in recovery for a long time.
Once the cobwebs in my head started to clear out, I realized that I needed to find out about my leg. I had a sheet covering my lower half and through the sheet I saw the outline of TWO legs. I lifted up the sheet and saw a glorious sight...my leg. The foot and ankle were heavily bandaged, but it was there! And I was thrilled.
When I got back to my room, my parents were happy but they looked like they had something serious to tell me. They proceeded to tell me that the infection was too bad in parts of my foot, and the doctor had to amputate three of my toes. I was a little bit shocked, but only for about five minutes. I could live with the fact that I could no longer count to 20 on my fingers and toes. I had two legs...that's all that mattered.
I went through another long and arduous recovery, but I had a different result this time. This surgery actually worked!! I had finally found a doctor, cocky arrogant asshole that he was, that was able to help me.
It's now 18 years after the surgery, and I can honestly say that it feels like it all happened yesterday. I have had a few MINOR issues with my foot since then, but everything has been great.
I'm still a little self-conscious about my foot, and there are only a few select people in my life who have seen it. But, I can live with a deformed foot. I take care of it, and I will NEVER go swimming with bare feet again. I always wear a swim shoe or boot.
This was honestly one of the worst times in my life. But all of the pain and tears were worth it. This one incident has served as a reminder to me to always keep searching. If I would have been content to live with an infected foot, I would have never searched for a fifth doctor. So, that's what drives me. It's this moment in my life that I call upon to keep going.
Normally, I loved Christmas, but here it was just a few days before Christmas of 1990, and I was angry, frustrated, and very depressed. I had been through so much in the four years prior to that moment, and I could feel the my psyche was teetering dangerously close to the edge.
I had been from doctor to doctor, all the while hoping to find someone who would be able to fix my problem. The standard operating procedure for my life from 1986 to that very point, followed this pattern: I would go to a specialist, and he would tell me that he “thought” that he could help me, and he would “try” his best to fix it. Then, I would have a painful surgery, which was ALWAYS followed by a painful and long recovery. After a couple of months I would come to the disheartening realization that this operation hadn't worked, and then I would either have another surgery with that same doctor, or I would start the process again with another doctor. At this moment in my life, I was on my 5th doctor.
My newest doctor was an arrogant and cocky jerk. In fact, I couldn't stand him. But, he had assured me with his unmitigated smugness that he was going to be able to fix me. He didn't use words like “try” and he didn't tell me that he “thought” he could help me. I appreciated his confidence, but I wasn't convinced. I had trusted doctors before, and it had only led to more pain, both physical and emotional.
So why was I in the hospital in the first place? It all started with one of my favorite activities in the world—swimming. One summer day in 1986, I went swimming at my grandparent's pool at the Lake of the Ozarks. I had spent countless hours of my youth in that pool without incident. But, one seemingly insignificant occurrence was to forever change the course of my life.
I am a “monoplegic,” and that means that one of my limbs is paralyzed. So my right leg is essentially useless to me, but I have perfect control of my left leg. But the great thing about the water is that I don't need crutches or a wheelchair, because the water keeps me buoyant.
That's why my love of water is almost spiritual in a sense. It allows me to be just like everyone else for that brief moment that I am in that aquatic dreamworld. But as soon as I get out of the pool, I'm back to reality.
So that day, I was swimming in their pool, and I ended up dragging the top of my left foot on the bottom of the pool. I'm not sure why I did that, because I usually walk with a normal gait when I am in the pool. But I happened to drag my foot this time. The bottom of the pool happened to be a little rough, so it gave the top of my foot a mild abrasion. My left foot is actually my “good” foot, so I did feel it when it happened, but it didn't hurt. As I said, it was merely a little scrape.
The next day I made a horrible decision, and with hindsight being 20/20, I can only imagine what my life would have been like had I not made this error in judgment. My family and I went swimming again, but this time we went swimming in the actual lake, itself. We put a band-aid on my scrape, and we enjoyed our afternoon in the water.
About a week later I noticed that my foot was starting to hurt, and that my scrape was not healing. In fact, it looked like it was getting worse. Then soon after that, I noticed that I was developing the signs of infection.
I'm going to gloss over and consolidate the next part, because it is quite detailed and graphic. But, this tiny little scrape grew into a RAGING infection in my foot, and I had a very serious nonhealing wound. So, I went to see my first doctor.
This just started the chain of events that I referenced earlier. I went from specialist to specialist, and I endured some very severe surgeries. I am so thankful for my parents, because most of the post-surgical care that I had to do could only be done with the help of my mom and dad. With my limited mobility, they were able to do things to my foot that I could not do, and I'm so thankful that they were there.
It was at that time when I transitioned from being ambulatory and on my crutches, to being in the wheelchair. It just hurt too much to walk on my foot. Besides, the doctors wanted me to keep weight off the foot, if possible. I would still use the crutches from time-to-time, but the switchover had essentially begun.
So back to me waiting in the hospital room. I had been waiting for some important news from the doctor. His plan to “fix” my foot included doing some intensive vascular surgery on my foot. He had me come into the hospital a day early so I could have a medical test done to assess the circulation and blood flow in my foot and lower leg. So the results of this test were very important to me and the success of the surgery.
When the doctor finally entered my hospital room, I could tell that something was amiss. He didn't have his usual swagger. In fact, he was very close to showing actual human compassion. He said the words that I still remember, 18 ½ years later. “Kevin, the results of the test aren't good. Your blood flow is not what we were hoping for. I'm going to do my best to avoid this, but I wanted to let you know that there is a possibility that I'll have to amputate your leg, below-the-knee during the surgery.”
I felt that I had been kicked in the chest by a team of mules. I didn't know what to say. I mean, this was my GOOD FOOT and GOOD LEG. I did everything with this leg, and my independence was clearly dependent on it.
My parents also had a stunned look on their faces, and the doctor assured us that he didn't think he would have to amputate. He was going to do everything in his power to keep that from happening, but he wanted us to know that there was a chance. He then left the room and went home.
We sat in stunned silence for awhile. Collectively, my parents and I had been through so much during those last four years, and we didn't quite know what to say. My parents said that they were sure that everything was going to be alright, and I really do think that they believed that...but I didn't.
They stayed until visiting hours were over, and then they said their goodbyes. Thus began, the worst night of sleep that I have ever had. I started thinking about how my life was going to be so different, if I didn't have my left leg. I used my left leg for driving, and really everything as far as my mobility was concerned. I tried to think about how I was going to transfer in and out of my chair without using my legs..and only my arms. Try it yourself, it's close to impossible.
Besides that stressor, I was still reeling from some news that I had heard the day before. I was extremely involved in my high school youth group, and the people in the group were some of my best friends. I got a call from one of my friends in the group, and he asked if he could come visit me in my hospital room. I told him that I had a medical test scheduled for later on in the day, but he was welcome to come before it.
I was extremely surprised when EVERYONE from my youth group came streaming into my room....everyone, save for one. My friends went on to tell me that my friend Beth had died in a house fire that morning. Her parents and brother had made it out alive, but she couldn't get out of her room. I didn't know what to say, but I cried and shared the moment with all of my special friends that were there.
After they left, I had a strange realization. Everyone that I loved was in my home, while I was stuck in this hospital room. I felt utterly helpless. I started to think about how something awful could happen to my family, and I was going to be left alone. The mind plays tricks on you when you have too much time to think.
So that night before the surgery, my head was full of worry. I was worried about myself. I was worried about my family's safety. I was worried about Beth's family. You name it...I thought about it that night. I think I drifted off to sleep at about 4:30 that morning.
I was woken up early, because my surgery had been scheduled for early in the morning. I remember kissing and hugging my parents goodbye and being whisked to the operating room.
I was still very nervous, but fortunately the anesthesia did its trick, and I was able to start to relax. I drifted off to sleep, and then I awoke to choking. I had a very hard time waking up from the anesthesia and my oxygen level got a little low, so they kept me in recovery for a long time.
Once the cobwebs in my head started to clear out, I realized that I needed to find out about my leg. I had a sheet covering my lower half and through the sheet I saw the outline of TWO legs. I lifted up the sheet and saw a glorious sight...my leg. The foot and ankle were heavily bandaged, but it was there! And I was thrilled.
When I got back to my room, my parents were happy but they looked like they had something serious to tell me. They proceeded to tell me that the infection was too bad in parts of my foot, and the doctor had to amputate three of my toes. I was a little bit shocked, but only for about five minutes. I could live with the fact that I could no longer count to 20 on my fingers and toes. I had two legs...that's all that mattered.
I went through another long and arduous recovery, but I had a different result this time. This surgery actually worked!! I had finally found a doctor, cocky arrogant asshole that he was, that was able to help me.
It's now 18 years after the surgery, and I can honestly say that it feels like it all happened yesterday. I have had a few MINOR issues with my foot since then, but everything has been great.
I'm still a little self-conscious about my foot, and there are only a few select people in my life who have seen it. But, I can live with a deformed foot. I take care of it, and I will NEVER go swimming with bare feet again. I always wear a swim shoe or boot.
This was honestly one of the worst times in my life. But all of the pain and tears were worth it. This one incident has served as a reminder to me to always keep searching. If I would have been content to live with an infected foot, I would have never searched for a fifth doctor. So, that's what drives me. It's this moment in my life that I call upon to keep going.
April 15, 2009
A Break-up Story
You lean silently in the darkened corner,
steadfast, but still so very alone.
Quick staccato-like glances are all I can muster.
The guilt keeps me from giving you the respect you deserve;
the respect you have earned.
Like an aging Hollywood starlet,
time has made you faded, weathered, and worn.
Your best days are behind you,
but you still ache for one more chance.
Why won't I give it to you?!?!
I have abandoned you;
discarding you like some trinket of my youth.
But you're more than a Star Wars figure or Etch-a-Sketch.
You ARE my past;
and I long for you to be my future.
You were there for the milestones;
like every holiday and special moment.
But I miss the mundane days;
like Mondays and Thursdays
more than you'll ever know.
You're in every old snapshot;
never as a featured player,
only as support....your favorite role.
Who knew a lazy summer day,
would start to tear us apart?
Eventually someone else entered my life;
you know how those things go.
But I would still use you,
when the other was too broken or deflated,
to be of use to me.
Now I see that your replacement has lied to me,
and made me too dependent.
I need you back in my life;
if I am to grow and thrive;
and be greater than what I am now.
I wish it could happen now,
but I lack the strength.
But I promise that someday soon,
you'll be in my life again..
My support...my strength...my crutches
================================================================================
When I was younger I used to use my crutches all of the time. Now, I have become too dependent on the wheelchair, and I need to get healthy enough to use the crutches again. That's why I wrote the poem.
steadfast, but still so very alone.
Quick staccato-like glances are all I can muster.
The guilt keeps me from giving you the respect you deserve;
the respect you have earned.
Like an aging Hollywood starlet,
time has made you faded, weathered, and worn.
Your best days are behind you,
but you still ache for one more chance.
Why won't I give it to you?!?!
I have abandoned you;
discarding you like some trinket of my youth.
But you're more than a Star Wars figure or Etch-a-Sketch.
You ARE my past;
and I long for you to be my future.
You were there for the milestones;
like every holiday and special moment.
But I miss the mundane days;
like Mondays and Thursdays
more than you'll ever know.
You're in every old snapshot;
never as a featured player,
only as support....your favorite role.
Who knew a lazy summer day,
would start to tear us apart?
Eventually someone else entered my life;
you know how those things go.
But I would still use you,
when the other was too broken or deflated,
to be of use to me.
Now I see that your replacement has lied to me,
and made me too dependent.
I need you back in my life;
if I am to grow and thrive;
and be greater than what I am now.
I wish it could happen now,
but I lack the strength.
But I promise that someday soon,
you'll be in my life again..
My support...my strength...my crutches
================================================================================
When I was younger I used to use my crutches all of the time. Now, I have become too dependent on the wheelchair, and I need to get healthy enough to use the crutches again. That's why I wrote the poem.
April 11, 2009
An Open Letter to all Prospective Teachers
Congratulations! You have chosen a very rewarding profession, and I'm sure that you will enter your first teaching job with vigor and enthusiasm. I trust that your schooling has prepared you well, with regard to lesson planning, differentiated instruction, and all of the other buzzwords of today. But, I wanted to share some items with you that you have not been taught in school. I hope that these tips will be helpful to you during your career.
"The bad kid is never sick." As a teacher you will encounter some students that live to cause problems for you. It's a fact of life. Unfortunately most of these students will NEVER be absent. It's as though they possess some superhuman germ-fighting capabilities. I won't admit to it, but you might find yourself switching the seating chart and putting your snotty, sneezy, finger-up-the-nose student next to this "picture of health" in hopes that your snot-factory will inflict some collateral damage. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
"You will gain all kinds of knowledge." Through my years of teaching, I have learned things that I never thought I would ever learn. For example, in my circle of friends, I am the one that knows all of the latest slang terms. Many years ago, I was the first person in my group to hear the term "bling-bling," so I shared that information with my friends. Apparently they were a little too excited and used their newfound phrase A LOT. Unfortunately, their wives didn't see the humor in it.
"Some of that knowledge will never leave, ever." I taught middle school for the first ten years of my teaching career, and through osmosis, I have acquired knowledge...scary knowledge. I hate to admit this in a public forum, but I used to know the first and last names of every member of the Backstreet Boys and 'Nsync. Ok, here's a confession. I STILL know this stupid information. I have tried for years to get rid of this knowledge, by shoving new facts and figures in my head--all the while hoping that this useless information will somehow fall to the wayside. NOPE, it's with my for life.
"Pick your battles." This tip can be used for SO MANY facets of teaching, but I'll give you one specific example. DO NOT try to teach something worthwhile on the day before an extended break. Now, I'm not saying that you should give your students a free day, but I'm just saying that there are limitations to what you can accomplish on that day. If, however, you are brave and full of moxie, and you decide to teach an important lesson on that day, you have been warned. You'll find the experience to be about as much fun as trying to give a cat a pill...and you'll be about as successful.
"You will develop super-sonic selective hearing." If my students are working on a project or assignment, I typically don't mind if they talk quietly to the people around them. I have found that I can tune out MOST of what they are saying, but if someone in my class says one of the "magic" words, my ears will instantly perk up and notice it. It's uncanny.
"The students are also armed with this hearing." You can tell the students 27 times about a test on Friday, and invariably several students will come in the class on Friday and claim that they knew nothing about the test. But, you can face an empty corner and whisper a sentence fragment about a pizza party, and then have a kid say two weeks later, "Mr. K. didn't you say something about a pizza party?"
"Be prepared for emergencies." You might have the greatest lesson plan in the world all ready to go...I mean this sucker is so good that it should be enshrined in the "hall." Then you show up at school and find out that your computers are down, copies didn't get finished in time, etc. As a teacher, you need to have a contingency plan. I have found that it is helpful to keep a portable puppet show somewhere in your classroom. I'm kiddng, or am I?
"You will learn the skills necessary to become a bouncer." Most people that work in the corporate world never have to worry about a fistfight breaking out in the middle of the office, but as a teacher this is an inevitability. At some point in your teaching career, you will have to break up a fight. Now I don't recommend getting involved, because your main job will be crowd control. However, if you feel comfortable breaking up the fight, find what works for you and do it. For me personally, I have found that if I accidentally-on purpose roll over the feet of the people involved in the fight, they will stop right away. That's one advantage of a wheelchair, I guess. :)
"Students will forget things over a three-day weekend." My students all have individual passwords to access the computers. The strangest thing is that they will be able to remember their passwords from a Friday to the following Monday, but the extra 24 hours of a three-day weekend will erase their brain. That's why I keep a copy of every one of their passwords, because a huge portion of them will forget. And don't even get me started about what happens after we get back from Spring Break. :)
"Don't let them distract you." If you are sitting at your desk and student comes over and stands DIRECTLY in front of your desk, it is probably innocent. However, if they start up a pointless conversation, this is huge red flag. Immediately look beyond this student, but be prepared for what you might see. Once you get past this "human shield" you will probably see something that will violate a school rule. So while, you are disciplining that student, just put a positive spin on it. At least they were working together on something.
"You want your students to apply your knowledge outside of the classroom...most of the time." At the middle school that I was at, the students would have a 3-on-3 basketball tournament. The championship game was always a big deal, and the students had to purchase tickets beforehand to attend the game. One year, it was discovered that a couple of students had bought up all of the remaining tickets for the game, and they were selling them to their fellow students at a profit. Yep, those were my students, and yep we had just studied "profit" in my business class. So I was both disappointed and proud at the same time, and that is a hard thing to do.
I have spent a lot of time giving out lighthearted tips, but I do have some serious things that I do want to say. There are quite a few things that I could share, but I will limit my tips to three very important ones.
"Be a role model." Many of your students are surrounded by negative people and situations. The hour that they spend in your classroom might be the most positive hour of their day. It is your responsibility to make sure that you have a strong character, and that they can look up to you. You need to show them that there are good people in the world, and that you do care about them and their success.
"Realize that there is a reason for strange behavior." If a kid NEVER falls asleep in your classroom, but they suddenly did today, don't react with anger. Find out why they were sleeping. Chances are they have something really stressful going at home. By recognizing their behavior as being out-of-character, you might be able to help them with whatever they have going on.
"If you don't love it...GET OUT." Let's face it, teaching is not for everyone. Unfortunately many people go through four years of college and student teaching before they realize that teaching is not what they should do in life. Even worse though, are the people that hate being a teacher, and they choose to stay in the profession. If it is not something you love to do, do everyone a favor, and find another line of work.
Teaching is a wonderful job, but in order to be successful at it, it needs to more than a job. It must be a passion. Don't ever forget that.
"The bad kid is never sick." As a teacher you will encounter some students that live to cause problems for you. It's a fact of life. Unfortunately most of these students will NEVER be absent. It's as though they possess some superhuman germ-fighting capabilities. I won't admit to it, but you might find yourself switching the seating chart and putting your snotty, sneezy, finger-up-the-nose student next to this "picture of health" in hopes that your snot-factory will inflict some collateral damage. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
"You will gain all kinds of knowledge." Through my years of teaching, I have learned things that I never thought I would ever learn. For example, in my circle of friends, I am the one that knows all of the latest slang terms. Many years ago, I was the first person in my group to hear the term "bling-bling," so I shared that information with my friends. Apparently they were a little too excited and used their newfound phrase A LOT. Unfortunately, their wives didn't see the humor in it.
"Some of that knowledge will never leave, ever." I taught middle school for the first ten years of my teaching career, and through osmosis, I have acquired knowledge...scary knowledge. I hate to admit this in a public forum, but I used to know the first and last names of every member of the Backstreet Boys and 'Nsync. Ok, here's a confession. I STILL know this stupid information. I have tried for years to get rid of this knowledge, by shoving new facts and figures in my head--all the while hoping that this useless information will somehow fall to the wayside. NOPE, it's with my for life.
"Pick your battles." This tip can be used for SO MANY facets of teaching, but I'll give you one specific example. DO NOT try to teach something worthwhile on the day before an extended break. Now, I'm not saying that you should give your students a free day, but I'm just saying that there are limitations to what you can accomplish on that day. If, however, you are brave and full of moxie, and you decide to teach an important lesson on that day, you have been warned. You'll find the experience to be about as much fun as trying to give a cat a pill...and you'll be about as successful.
"You will develop super-sonic selective hearing." If my students are working on a project or assignment, I typically don't mind if they talk quietly to the people around them. I have found that I can tune out MOST of what they are saying, but if someone in my class says one of the "magic" words, my ears will instantly perk up and notice it. It's uncanny.
"The students are also armed with this hearing." You can tell the students 27 times about a test on Friday, and invariably several students will come in the class on Friday and claim that they knew nothing about the test. But, you can face an empty corner and whisper a sentence fragment about a pizza party, and then have a kid say two weeks later, "Mr. K. didn't you say something about a pizza party?"
"Be prepared for emergencies." You might have the greatest lesson plan in the world all ready to go...I mean this sucker is so good that it should be enshrined in the "hall." Then you show up at school and find out that your computers are down, copies didn't get finished in time, etc. As a teacher, you need to have a contingency plan. I have found that it is helpful to keep a portable puppet show somewhere in your classroom. I'm kiddng, or am I?
"You will learn the skills necessary to become a bouncer." Most people that work in the corporate world never have to worry about a fistfight breaking out in the middle of the office, but as a teacher this is an inevitability. At some point in your teaching career, you will have to break up a fight. Now I don't recommend getting involved, because your main job will be crowd control. However, if you feel comfortable breaking up the fight, find what works for you and do it. For me personally, I have found that if I accidentally-on purpose roll over the feet of the people involved in the fight, they will stop right away. That's one advantage of a wheelchair, I guess. :)
"Students will forget things over a three-day weekend." My students all have individual passwords to access the computers. The strangest thing is that they will be able to remember their passwords from a Friday to the following Monday, but the extra 24 hours of a three-day weekend will erase their brain. That's why I keep a copy of every one of their passwords, because a huge portion of them will forget. And don't even get me started about what happens after we get back from Spring Break. :)
"Don't let them distract you." If you are sitting at your desk and student comes over and stands DIRECTLY in front of your desk, it is probably innocent. However, if they start up a pointless conversation, this is huge red flag. Immediately look beyond this student, but be prepared for what you might see. Once you get past this "human shield" you will probably see something that will violate a school rule. So while, you are disciplining that student, just put a positive spin on it. At least they were working together on something.
"You want your students to apply your knowledge outside of the classroom...most of the time." At the middle school that I was at, the students would have a 3-on-3 basketball tournament. The championship game was always a big deal, and the students had to purchase tickets beforehand to attend the game. One year, it was discovered that a couple of students had bought up all of the remaining tickets for the game, and they were selling them to their fellow students at a profit. Yep, those were my students, and yep we had just studied "profit" in my business class. So I was both disappointed and proud at the same time, and that is a hard thing to do.
I have spent a lot of time giving out lighthearted tips, but I do have some serious things that I do want to say. There are quite a few things that I could share, but I will limit my tips to three very important ones.
"Be a role model." Many of your students are surrounded by negative people and situations. The hour that they spend in your classroom might be the most positive hour of their day. It is your responsibility to make sure that you have a strong character, and that they can look up to you. You need to show them that there are good people in the world, and that you do care about them and their success.
"Realize that there is a reason for strange behavior." If a kid NEVER falls asleep in your classroom, but they suddenly did today, don't react with anger. Find out why they were sleeping. Chances are they have something really stressful going at home. By recognizing their behavior as being out-of-character, you might be able to help them with whatever they have going on.
"If you don't love it...GET OUT." Let's face it, teaching is not for everyone. Unfortunately many people go through four years of college and student teaching before they realize that teaching is not what they should do in life. Even worse though, are the people that hate being a teacher, and they choose to stay in the profession. If it is not something you love to do, do everyone a favor, and find another line of work.
Teaching is a wonderful job, but in order to be successful at it, it needs to more than a job. It must be a passion. Don't ever forget that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
