Even though I have been absent from the blogging keyboard for longer than I want, it hasn't been from lack of activity. On the contrary, life has been exceedingly full-tilt. Since my coworker's passing, I have the task before me of revamping my entire curriculum, lesson-creation/presentation, and daily schedule.
I do tutorials 4 days a week. Two are for struggling writers and the other two are for ELL students (of my 4 teaching certifications, one is for English Language Learners). Four days this past week alone, my conference period at work has been absorbed for parent conferences. Time? That exists? I just want to yank that necklace off Hermoine's neck and start a little time-redo each day so I might get close to accomplishing the must-do list each day. That, or I need to successfully clone myself.
As it is, I'm finding myself awake a little past 10pm sloughing away through grading essays and awake at 4:30am to get some much-needed quiet with at least one cup of coffee before it's time to chase children (i.e. herding cats). It's not as much as a high school teacher who may have upwards of 120 students, but it took me a week. My student load is 70; however, the beginning writer needs considerable TLC. This woman is tired of reading run-ons with "and then" to combine 20 thoughts across one sheet of lined paper...but when I share the funnest method to correct these sentences, the essays show how hard my students are working to fix these beginning writers' mishaps. So, last Sunday when I spent my entire day off pasting, cutting, printing, typing and creating colorful file-folder tri-folds for triage stations....it's paying off.
I'm calling them triage stations, though that's now what they're really called. It's triage in my eyes because I can't fix all the bleeding. Beginning writers need encouragement and advice and immediate feedback. Writing teachers often receive the ever pressing question of, "Is what I wrote good?" Thing is, you can't read 24 essays during the class and give feedback....quality feedback. If you do, there are idle (and then loud, going-to-entertain-themselves) students. The time is wasted. Stations fix that. I rotate around the room to each station and do mini-triage. I have grouped students to listen to each other read their stories and given them tricks to catch their run-ons and change passive voice into active voice. It's working.
In all that glorious, teaching mess called writing...some beautiful things have been happening. I have been too active to write in my blog, for one. Negative things surround my life, too, and there are some I wish I could deal with. Two family members had surgery this past week. I couldn't be with either one, nor visit them out of town. I have absolutely ugly attitudes from coworkers in my wing. I can't do anything about those persons who prefer to complain about everything. I can't join them (or rather I refuse to join them and now the focus has turned towards me). Thing is, I'm too busy coming up with my own solutions and from sunup to sundown, my hands are too busy to let my heart worry about them. I'm there for my students and no one else.
Yes, my title is about weight loss miracles, though my beginning doesn't seem to show I'm on track. I give you this example of my life because two years ago, this lifestyle did not exist. I couldn't stay awake past 6:30 or 7:00pm. It didn't matter how healthy I ate, I continued to gain weight. Twenty months ago, my life started turning around with actual, true medical treatment for my thyroid. That treatment included a low-sugar/sugar-free and low-carb/wheat-free diet (that evolved into peanut-free, limited-soy diet).
The first day I sat across from the doctor (and started crying when he pulled out his prescription pad because it meant he wasn't turning me away without helping me like all the other doctors did), he walked out into his waiting room and shook my mother's hand. I had told him about her, how she held the dutiful chauffeur's position the past months ferrying me to one idiot doctor to MRI scans and finally to this excellent professional. His words at that time were, "Give it about 6 to 12 months and your girl will be healthy again."
Well, he was true to his words. Not only that, he made this incredible weight-loss miracle occur in this body that once-upon-a-time, five weekly exercise sessions never accomplished. I've never been one about bragging. There's some personality trait of mine that holds accomplishments on my tongue and not released into the air, but I decided it's time to share the exact numbers in weights loss (cause it keeps decreasing and readers needed numbers to be convinced of why pushing for their health is paramount).
I didn't believe doc when he said he'd get me to a certain number. I'm approaching that number. He wasn't lying or a quack. It is, in all actuality, happening. This past doctor's appointment (I see him monthly at this point), he increased my desiccated thyroid to 45 (I have to cut a 90 in half because the way the prescription comes are in 30 increments). It's perfect! 60 was giving me hot flashes and thinking issues.
Weight loss-wise, this 5-foot 3 and 3/4 inch woman weighed 199 pounds in March of 2014. I now weigh 151 pounds. In all my adult years, my lowest weight was 164. Even in high school, my weight was 164. I do not recall any lower weight on my frame save 5th or 6th grade when it was 77 lbs and the boys had taken a bet to see if I was, indeed, the lightest in the class since I was the smallest and skinniest (in my defense, I'm a summer baby and barely hit the September 1 cutoff with an August 29 birthday, so I graduated at 17. Of course I'd be smaller than my classmates; I was technically a year younger). But I doubt that weigh-in counts (as a goal) just because I remember it.
I'm two pounds shy of a 50-pound weight-loss. My husband, who likes curves, already stated I can stop losing weight any time now. Doc's goal sit close to 135 pounds. My goal? My goal is healthy. If I did not lose another pound (and I've said this that last 13 or so pounds), I won't care. I have energy again. That thought alone makes me weep with joy. I stay up past my children's bedtime. I handle my job and it's so interactive and fun, when I signal to students it's the end of the class period, I receive disappointed "aww" in response (though one student has started answering my "Oh students" signal with "Ohhh nooooo!" when it's really "Ohhh yessss!" because he knows it's signalling the end of the class time and their fun). Because of all these health changes, I enjoy my students and enjoy my children. I don't even pay as much attention to the scale as I once did. I used to do daily weigh-ins because it told me when I needed to tweak my diet. Now, I go days and days between and today's weigh-in was a shock. When did I do that?
I promise you all, I'm an avid eater. My portions have shrunk over time, but even as a child, I preferred grazing. There's no starvation happening for this weight-loss (and those of us who are hypothyroid know that starvation only causes more weight gain because of the stress starvation puts on the body and stress equals weight gain in hypothyroids). This is all happening because I have the correct medicine dosage, diet, and lifestyle.
If unauthorized food is offered to me, it's easy for me to shake a finger and say, "No way, but thank you." Even hubby knows what can hit the dinner table and he's awesome about it. There's one lady at work who's excellent at remembering that I eat only sugar-free. She keeps her candy dish filled with a mix of both regular and sugar-free candy. That makes my heart sing. I still have a sweet tooth (Blue Bunny ice cream made with Splenda, I love you) and I'm sure there are people whose hearts sink when I always say no (think how they went to that effort to gift their coworkers?). But I always refuse something I know my body cannot process and will cause the rest of the day to spiral into unhealthy symptoms. No thank you! Even the sweet cafeteria ladies know I don't eat cafeteria food. Their salads have taken on a new element this year, and I know two days a week, if I forget my lunch, there is a backup plan I can participate in (just not chicken salad-salad day...not until I know how much sugar goes into their recipe).
I'm better at handling the stress at work. I don't mind making tri-fold stations or staying late at work each day. Those moments are for or with children. I often dream about students or lessons. So I'd say my waking hours are filled with could-be stresses, but it's not limited to my waking hours and anything for children is not stressful. Often, my biological children are with me in the room (depending on the day). I LOVE those moments.
The moments that cause me stress are with other adults. It's always been other adults. My mother often said that of her educator career, too. We true educators love children and if we could be in rooms with children all day, the job would be absolutely perfect...but adults skew that entire plan. However, I'm better at reminding myself I cannot do anything about other adults' attitude. There is no need to take their remarks personal. Whatever lies in their heart, whatever personal stresses they have, whatever personal issues they have not dealt with...those are not my fault, not my doing, and not mine to solve. It is their's. That's something that goes on inside their head. I have no power to change that. Now, when it affects a child, the gloves go on.
When it comes to meetings and someone lies, tries to take credit, or just complain (where no solution is good enough)...those events cause me stress...and my tongue let loose the last official meeting. With the negative events in my hallway this week, I approached my principal (and friend, because I met her through my principal courses) that communication isn't happening. With the passing of my coworker and writing interventionist, the dynamics have unbalanced themselves to extremes. It's two negatives against one. We have a quasi-plan that we hope replaces a balance in our department. The former 4th grade writing teacher (whose spot I took over) is coming back as my interventionist. I have history with her and we adore each other. She was quite pleased when she learned it was me taking her spot. She felt better about walking away from her position knowing students would be in good hands (mine). So, am I excited to see her arrival tomorrow? You betcha!
In the final analysis, having my health allows me to handle the normal stresses of life. The present stresses in my life are a recurrent theme of my almost 15 year career. I have to use both hands to count individuals I have come up against who have caused negativity in the work place and for some reason, I rubbed them wrong (mainly because I'm awesome and without trying, make others look bad or I ask questions that provoke quality education changes and some people don't like that). So, stress will always be present. That is life. How am I reacting to it? Much better now that my thyroid is under control. Anxiety attacks are a thing of the past. Taking people's garbage attitudes personal are a thing of the past. I got a job to do. I see a need, I'm going to take action to fill that need. It's not about anything else but what students need.
Take my life as an example of what proper medical treatment can do for your life. It's important to be determined about seeking quality care. You are authorized to fire a doctor that does not have your best interest at heart. You are authorized to request (perhaps demand) those in your life to support your diet needs and refrain from saboteur tactics. Skinny does not have to be a goal - feeling good and feeling like you fulfill some aspect of your life's task here, that does. I know I was put on this earth for children. I have the energies to put towards that end and it fills me with such peace doing that.
I still have students who will cry over my coworker's passing. There's one sweet girl, in 5th grade. Her guardian angel passed away. She would ask after her grades, scold her, give advice, and make her do tutorials to get caught up...and now she's gone. So, I find a little head pressed against my arm from time to time. This past week, we had progress reports and I'm busy looking at former students' reports, "Who's passing? Who do I need to scold?" There's one boy, I swear, loves to hear me scold him. And I look down at this little head pressed against my arm and I see tears streaming down her cheeks. I don't have to ask any questions why those tears are there. I just grab her, hug her, and praise her for her grades and most importantly, tell her how proud our guardian angel would be. That, ladies and gentlemen, is what I have to focus on. I need my health to do it.
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