You Ask a Lot of Questions

This is a poem by Rumi. I’ve heard it before but I was especially struck by it last Friday when my yoga teacher read it during a yoga nidra class at Journeyoga.

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

~ Rumi

At my book club recently we discussed Sharon Salzberg’s Loving-Kindness. Salzberg explains a variety of meditation practices to help us experience love, compassion, joy, and equanimity. At one point she talks about the state of anger and how destructive it can be, even though anger can also spur positive effects like standing up for yourself or others or changing policy for social good. I struggle with how to reconcile using anger for good and letting it eat you up. Similarly, I have an overdeveloped compassion muscle. I am a sponge for the trials and tribulations of friends, family, or even acquaintances. It’s a challenge for me to keep my compassion, which is theoretically a good thing, in check.

So my vocation–telling the stories of the fantastic and invaluable work nonprofits do to help families and communities–is a source of satisfaction and sometimes a strain. As I hear about the injustices my clients are trying to overcome for the people they serve, and the sparse resources they have to do so, I am overcome. I must remind myself to, as Mister Rogers advised, “look for the helpers” whenever there’s a problem or crisis. And the people I write for are the helpers. So that’s a comfort.

Last summer at Lilith Fair I heard Sarah McLachlan sing World on Fire about how we as individuals deal with the myriad weighty challenges in the world. I felt like it was my theme song. I made it my cell phone ringtone for when my nonprofit clients call.

Sometimes it’s better to turn off the news. One friend of mine in the book club discussion said she turned off NPR for several weeks during the vicious election season and listened to Harry Potter books on cd instead. Why immerse yourself in news that’s going to infuriate you?

But when something horrific and unimaginable is happening to people somewhere else in the world, isn’t it our responsibility to listen and understand, to be a witness to their suffering? I don’t know the answer. If I did that every day, my spirit would crumble. But if I ignore it altogether, who am I? Sometimes personal response to a disaster depends entirely on where you are and what you’re doing when you hear the news. If you’re on vacation or celebrating a holiday with family, it’s easier to mute the news and try to enjoy yourself. If you’re ensconced in everyday life and plugged into the media, it’s easier to get sucked in. Two weeks after my daughter was born the Virginia Tech shooter murdered dozens of students and teachers in Blacksburg. I was spending a lot of time sitting in an overstuffed chair and breastfeeding, so it was hard to ignore the news, especially as my mom who was staying with us to help me out, always tunes in.

All this is to say that I’ve deliberately watched a lot more coverage of the earthquake and tsunami nuclear disaster in Japan than I usually do when something terrible happens somewhere far away. I’m not sure why, and I don’t know that it’s good for my psyche, but it is what it is. I made a donation today to the Red Cross to help the people of Japan. I know there are a lot of worthwhile NGOs working in Japan. I encourage you to support one. I have a lot. A lot of these people now have nothing. The world is on fire. It’s more than I can handle. I bring what I am able.

Yesterday I forgot a lot of things. I forgot the record from Zoe’s last eye exam when we met with the eye surgeon. Fortunately it didn’t matter. The surgeon just wanted to know if the ophthalmologist thought Zoe’s vision was normal, which she did. The surgeon thought Zoe’s surgery from a year ago is holding up well, so we are spared another round of surgery for at least a year. Despite my forgetfulness, Zoe made a beeline for the toychest in the large waiting room as soon as we arrived, even though she hadn’t been there since last summer. I guess the location of toys makes an indelible impression in a three-year-old’s mind.

Then I forgot to bring my collection of vitamins to show the new acupuncturist I met with, who specializes in reproductive health. Turns out that didn’t matter either. She got what she needed to know by asking me questions. I did remember my checkbook, which probably mattered more to the acupuncturist.

When I got home the babysitter got ready to leave and was lingering by the door when I realized I had forgotten to pay her. Went for the checkbook again.

I downed a quick snack because I had forgotten to have lunch, while Zoe put on her bathing suit to get ready for her swimming lesson.

It was pouring rain outside and I had been wearing a rain jacket. The acupuncturist was burning herbs in her office and I felt like my jacket smelled strange. I didn’t want the people at the pool to think I’d been smoking pot before bringing my daughter to her lesson. I switched to my long trenchcoat, which I usually only wear for dressy occasions.

Halfway to the pool I realized I’d forgotten a towel for Zoe. We stopped at Rite Aid and CVS to see if I could buy one. While they do have pool toys for sale already, no towels to be had. I asked at the front desk of the rec center, but they do not have towels to sell or lend. I was troubled. Zoe repeatedly said, “It’s ok, Mommy. I’ll just be wet when I get out of the pool. It’s ok.” I decided to use my coat, which conveniently has a very soft lining, to wrap her up. After watching her kick and paddle and blow bubbles from my seat on the floor of the observation deck, I hurried down to collect her at the end of the lesson. I scooped her up inside my coat and went into the locker room. She was delighted. “Your coat is so warm!” she exclaimed. I suggested she get dressed. “Let me stay in your coat for a minute,” she said. Finally I got her dressed and we headed outside as the rain got heavier. I got a little wet. But I kept Zoe dry. And I remembered to tell Zoe I was proud of her for being brave in the pool. More important than a towel.

I am glad that Zoe loves her dad. Sometimes, however, I get tired of her stopping in the midst of what she’s doing, or suddenly taking on the Charlie Brown pathetic posture and saying “I miss Daddy.” Or “I miss Daddy so much. Or “I am so sad because I really really really miss Daddy.”

Yes, she can be a bit of a drama queen. But I always struggle not to take this personally. My husband reminds me that she spends a lot more time with me than with him, so it’s understandable that she misses him. But when we’re together and things are going well, why does she have to think about him so much? He also reminds me that when she’s with him, she often says that she misses me. I believe him, but of course I don’t hear her say that.

What may be worse is when I’m being the bad guy and that launches her into an emotional fit of longing. As in, “No, you can’t play with the blood pressure machine,” or “No, you can’t have another cookie.” She looks at me as though I’ve sentenced her to a time-out for the rest of her life. “When’s Daddy coming home? I miss Daddy.” It’s no fun being the bad guy.

There’s an episode of Modern Family where they talk about the idea that you can only have one fun parent. Although Zoe and I have a lot of fun together, sometimes I feel like that’s the case because I’m usually the one who says, “Zoe, let’s have a fun adventure. We’re going to Target!” or “Zoe, I have a special job for you. Can you help me fold the laundry?” Or “Zoe, I need help making dinner. Can you do the measuring?” Sometimes she falls for it and sometimes she doesn’t. I spend a lot of time creating fun activities for her (that aren’t always thinly disguised chores) and me to do together. But sometimes it’s just real life. What else are you gonna do?

I’m going away this weekend with a couple mom friends to the beach. While I certainly need the break and am grateful for the opportunity to take it, I already miss my husband and Zoe. And while I am delighted that Zoe is thrilled beyond belief to have her “Daddy Daughter Days,” as we’ve been calling the weekend, I kinda want her to miss me too. Because I’m kinda fun too. At least sometimes.

Zoe’s fourth birthday is coming up in a month. There is nothing that she really needs. But I believe kids should get something for their birthdays. So at various moments I have asked her what she wanted. So far she’s said things like, “I’d like a whole town that’s really tiny.” Hmmm. Not sure what that means. At other times she said she wants a doll that has batteries or a horse that has batteries. I explained to her that we don’t like to buy toys like that with batteries, because you don’t get to use your imagination. If the batteries do all the work for the toy, you don’t get to have as much fun. She totally bought it. “So I guess I won’t ever have any toys with batteries.” I guess not. I said, “You like doing science experiments, what about some science toys?” So far her science experiments, inspired by Sid the Science Kid, involve a lot of melting of ice or freezing of water or putting sunblock on construction paper. She said “Yeah! I love science. Let’s get some science toys!” So we went to Lakeshore Learning, a great teacher store recommended to me by several local moms. She wanted one of everything. I told her we were just there to get ideas, but we definitely got some. Glad to know there are lots of fun things out there that don’t require batteries, just a curious mind.

My daughter points out homonyms frequently in conversation. She uses words like meanwhile, rotate, and stabilize. She can do a forward roll and a plie, hang from her feet and hands from the monkey bars, and climb to the top of anything. She puts her dishes in the dishwasher. She can navigate a website. She listens to instructions, plays well with others, and likes to cook real and pretend food.

Also, she can’t always tell when her bladder is empty or full. The urologist says this is normal and she is among 20% of children her age whose bladder control has not caught up with their physical development. The urologist says this is likely genetic.

But according to the school system, it is her failure to keep from having accidents, or our failure for not teaching her how or working with her closely enough. So they did not want her in their PreK classrooms. After telling us this, they worked with us for exactly two weeks before removing Zoe from school. We tried to work this out with the school system, but they were unresponsive, so we went to the press instead, and opened Pandora’s box.

We thought the story would be buried in the Metro section. Our only goal was to get the attention of the school system to encourage them to change their policy. Instead we became a national news story, more read and emailed that day on the Washington Post website than articles about the revolution in Egypt. The story was picked up by AP and appeared on numerous tv and radio shows, newspapers, and blogs across the country. We received requests for interviews from ABC, NBC, CBS, CNN, Fox, MSNBC, and some local radio show from around the country. Good Morning America came to our house three times. The Today Show People came once. I had to draw the blinds and let the phone ring. Our story drew ire and unbelievable venom from people who anonymously judged my daughter and me, without knowing us at all or really understanding the situation. They said my daughter clearly wasn’t ready for school. I was too lazy to potty train my child and was expecting the school to do it for me. I didn’t understand the difference between day care and school. One woman emailed me directly with the subject line “stop whining” and an email message “why don’t you just stay home with your daughter?”

It’s been almost a month since the story ran. My daughter is fine. She’s back at a co-op preschool where they don’t care if she has accidents, but as it happens, she hasn’t had any there. She still has them at home sometimes.

The school system did comply with one of our requests, which was that they make public their previously internal guidelines that they consider children who have 8 accidents per month not to be potty trained. At least parents now know what they’re getting into.

But the school system maintains that children should not have that many accidents because the classes aren’t staffed for them. So because Zoe’s bladder is underdeveloped, she’s not allowed to go to school there. They maintain their policy that has been in place for 40 years is sound, even though it conflicts with the guidance of the medical establishment. It still does not seem quite fair.

I am trying to put it behind me, but it won’t stay there.

Every time I hear from another person that our situation was mentioned on Good Morning America or Dr. Laura or in a magazine they received in the mail, it makes my stomach hurt.

When I hear that the school system is telling everyone that they worked families for several months on potty training and they expect a week at home will allow a child to make progress on an issue they have no biological control over, it makes my stomach hurt.

Every time I see an acquaintance in a parking lot and they said “you’re famous,” it makes me cringe.

We were just trying to stand up for our daughter, and for children who should have the opportunity to go to school even if all their organs aren’t functioning at full capacity. Thankfully, we did get some encouragement. I did get emails from strangers thanking me for what I did, saying it inspired them. I did hear from clients who are advocates for children and families that was I did was brave and that it’s critical for people to stand up to schools and other institutions on behalf of children. I was comforted by waves of support and love from friends and family on Facebook, including several educators who were outraged and sent letters to the school system advocating for change in policy. So I feel like ultimately, we did a good thing. But right now it still makes my stomach hurt.

[a letter of support from an elementary school teacher]

February 3, 2011

Dr. Michelle Picard
Director of Early Childhood and Elementary Education
Arlington Public Schools

Dear Dr. Picard,

I am writing concerning the recent removal of Zoe Rosso from the Montessori preschool class which is housed in an elementary school in your district.  I hold a Master of Teaching degree from the Curry School of Education at the University of Virginia, as well as a PreK – 8 teaching certification, and I have been a public school teacher in Virginia for 14 years.  I currently work at an elementary school in Norfolk, Virginia, which houses several preschool classes.  I was absolutely shocked when I read the recent Washington Post story about Zoe’s removal from her class as a result of toileting accidents.  The primary reason for the existence of the public school system in the United States is to provide a universally free and appropriate public education for every child.  This is not an optional feature of our public school system — it is a requirement of federal legislation, which means that there is no valid reason for any child to be excluded from the use of public school facilities.  Zoe Rosso’s exclusion from her preschool class as a result of toileting accidents is therefore quite impossible for me to fathom.

The preschool classes at the public school where I teach serve regular, special education, and severely handicapped students.  While there is the expectation that students in the regular education preschool classes come to school potty trained, under no circumstances would a student in any of those classes be removed from class for having toileting accidents, regardless of the frequency of the accidents. Preschool teachers in our school change diapers and pull-ups, often without the presence of an assistant; they help with toileting, assist with toileting accidents, and do whatever else is necessary in order to best serve each student, regardless of his or her age.  This is what is expected of public school teachers, and it is also what is expected of any group, Montessori or otherwise, which is given permission to use a public school building. Access to public education, and the use of public educational facilities, simply cannot be denied to any child — regardless of the classroom’s adopted philosophy.

It is wholly inappropriate, and a violation of the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act of 2004, to deny access to public education, or the use of public educational facilities, to any child.  The IDEA of 2004 does not permit the exclusion of any child based on physical concerns of any kind, and it does not permit the exclusion of a child from a class or school based on the level of inconvenience which may be felt by the teacher or staff members currently serving that child, as appears to be the case in this situation.

I have been greatly puzzled by a number of aspects of Zoe’s story.  I struggle to understand why the Arlington Public School District is charging parents almost $900 per month per student, as most other school districts who offer a Montessori preschool do so at no cost whatsoever to students and their families.  Collecting this exorbitant monthly fee appears to be completely at odds with the concept of a free education for each child.  I also struggle to understand why this class is not held to the same standards of student inclusion and acceptance – namely, being universally available to all — which would be required of any other classroom that was located in a building whose construction was funded by state and federal taxpayers’ money.  Further, I struggle to understand why there is a discriminatory and developmentally inappropriate policy in place regarding toileting accidents in a classroom for very young children — particularly since I still have first grade students in my classroom who have toileting accidents!  Additionally, I struggle to understand why the Rosso family was treated with such blatant disrespect during this entire process, to the point of being escorted from the school building as if they were criminals when their child was removed from school.  Above all, I struggle to understand why the convenience of the teacher involved was placed above the needs of a three year old child in the classroom.  I urge you to give careful consideration to each of these troubling issues, as you decide how next to proceed.

To be perfectly honest, I think this story is about more than just Zoe Rosso.  I think this story is about a teacher who violated a child’s basic (and federally protected) rights because it was more convenient for her to do so than it was for her to work out a solution that benefited the child in question.  I think this story is about a principal who placed a higher value on policy than she did on an individual student’s education and emotional well-being.  I think this story is about a school system which has done the wrong thing by allowing developmentally inappropriate policies to be put in place and enforced – and I cannot help but wonder if there may be some kind of financial incentive for the district to have done so, particularly since most public school districts allow students to attend the Montessori classrooms housed in their buildings free of charge.

Hillel writes, “In a situation where there is no righteous person, try to be the righteous person.”  Ms. Picard, I urge you to try to be the righteous person in this situation.  I urge you to take a stand, to send a clear message that the exclusion of any child from an educational setting is never an acceptable option — except in the case of students who demonstrate extreme violence, which three year old Zoe Rosso of course did not.  I urge you to send the message that you expect your employees to place a higher value on what is in the best interests of the children they serve than they do on what is most convenient for themselves as individuals.

I urge you, in the strongest possible terms, to remember precisely how public funds, and the public educational facilities which rely on those funds, are expected to be utilized:    for the education and welfare of all of the children, all of the time.  All means all.

I urge you to bring about significant reforms in this preschool and its policies.  While the principal and the teacher may have technically been following the letter of district policy when they acted, they clearly were not acting in the best interests of Zoe Rosso, or of any other child who may have been ejected from this preschool as a result of similar issues.  And this, quite simply, means that they were neither doing their duty nor serving the public interest.

Should Arlington Public Schools decide to maintain a potty training requirement as part of its preschool policy, I would strongly urge you, first, to make public on your website and on your Montessori application the precise details of what constitutes a “potty-trained” child.  In addition, I would ask that the district immediately align its definition of “potty trained” with the developmentally and medically appropriate standards which are set forth by the American Academy of Pediatrics and the American Academy of Urology, both of which acknowledge that it is absolutely normal for children who are potty trained to continue to have accidents (even more than eight accidents per month) through the age of five.

Very respectfully,

Karin Ferebee Roberts

The hardest part was not being able to hug my dad while he was radioactive.

My dad was treated for early-stage prostate cancer by having irradiated seeds implanted in his prostate. The seeds were “live” for about three months, during which he was instructed to stay about six feet away from small children or women of childbearing age, especially who might be pregnant. Since I’ve been trying to get pregnant for a year and a half and my daughter is three, it was hard for us to keep our distance. We talked from across the room and blew kisses.

The other challenge was more of a test of fortitude. Before the seeds were implanted, my dad had five weeks of radiation treatments at Inova Alexandria Hospital. Somewhere during that five weeks, blizzards began descending on the DC area. My parents live 10 miles from the hospital. We live five miles away. My parents’ neighborhood must be accessed by traversing a few slippery hills and tends to remain unplowed for at least a week after major snowstorms. Add to that my dad is not the most confident of drivers, having grown up riding New York subways and learned to drive in his 20s. My mom prefers to cocoon in the snow.

So after one storm hit they called to see if I wanted to pick my dad up to take him to his 6am treatment the next day. I drive a Honda Civic. I secretly arranged for a friend of my parents who drives an SUV to give him a ride. My parents do not like asking people for help. As we waited for the next blizzard to arrive, we came up with Plan B.

My brother-in-law is a wiz at finding bargains online. He located a four-wheel-drive vehicle we could rent for a week at a reasonable rate. My dad moved in for two weeks and we drove together every morning through the snow to his radiation appointments. One morning as we drove there it was clear, and by the time he was done and we drove home, another blizzard had arrived. Thank goodness everyone else stayed home because we were driving 10 miles an hour the entire way home and not stopping very long at any intersections.

I am extraordinarily grateful that my dad is healthy now. We can hug anytime we want and he can read stories to Zoe while she sits in his lap.

That’s why I’m participating in the American Cancer Society’s Relay for Life to raise money for cancer research and treatment. My dad, my sister, and my husband plan to join me in this effort. To contribute to our team, visit http://main.acsevents.org/goto/BetsyRosso. Join me in honoring my dad or paying tribute to someone you love who has lived with cancer or who has died because of it. Thank you.

My Christmas gift to my sister was lunch and an afternoon of spa relaxation. Today we experienced some weird touching and some good touching.

Unfortunately the weird touching was at lunch, where the waiter (and seemingly sole employee) of the restaurant where we enjoyed baba ghannouj, baked zucchini, and kofte, got a little too close for comfort as he seated and served us. We also noticed him napping on the bar as we finished our lunch. We were the only remaining customers. Perhaps he was hungover. Or had just started drinking for the day. Or both. But the food was good.

Fortunately at Comfort and Joy Wellness Spa, everything felt good and perfectly appropriate. We found the spa in a mostly abandoned shopping center in Fairfax, near other shopping areas we used to frequent as teenagers, since our junior high school is across the street. I guess rent is cheap. Once you get inside, however, it is serene and relaxing and you no longer feel so suburban.

We passed through the dazzling array of products and were seated in the waiting room where we each had a cup of tea. Then we were escorted to our massage rooms. MJ was my massage therapist and, while I haven’t chronicled them all, I would say this was probably the best massage of my life. MJ was intense. Instead of just pacifying the knots in my shoulders, she seemed to dissolve them. She also stretched my arms and legs in bizarre but not painful ways as she massaged, which made me feel like it was part yoga and all wonderful. She put a hot towel on my back at one point and some sort of hot pads on my back and stomach at other points to keep me warm and relaxed while she worked on other body parts. There were other small surprises, all deftly maneuvered with no pauses. The hour went by too fast, but I savored every minute of it.

Afterward I was led to my facial room by Thao, the aesthetician. As has always been my experience with facials, it just seems kind of weird, but simultaneously pleasant. She applied and removed various creams and liquids and pastes to my face. They smelled good. In the end, my skin felt soft and my face relaxed, to match the rest of me.

You wouldn’t know it from the outside, but Comfort and Joy Wellness Spa is an oasis of bliss in the middle of Fairfax and well worth the trip if you want to feel relaxed and rejuvenated.