mamakelli-blog

Find Your Path: New Academic Services Offered by MamaKelli!

Fri, 26 Feb 2010 21:15:42 +0100

As a school teacher, I’ve learned a lot about education. I’ve entered high school classrooms filled with pregnant teenagers and young men who occasionally sported red eyes due to having been sprayed with a police officer’s mace. There, I dismissed students from class early to attend trial for crimes they allegedly committed, and I’ve been wowed by the same young people as they broke out spontaneously into rap songs about the parts of speech and a classmate’s seeming inability to stop sneezing. (The sneezer, incidentally, punctuated each beat with a well-time “Aaachew!”) I’ve also spent years among younger folks, specifically 7^th graders caught smack in the middle of the physical, emotional, and psychological transition from childhood to full-blown adolescence. Within a single classroom, these tweens ran the gamut. Some were reading at a 12^th grade level and were more together and articulate than a full handful of my colleagues. Others had never learned to read. Among this sub-set, one poverty-stricken girl attempted to teach herself by re-writing, letter-by-letter, the schedule and class mission statement printed on my white board. Meanwhile a well-off athlete in the same academic situation simply deferred his projects to his enabling mother. I weathered threats of groundless law-suits, developed a rep as the “go-to” person for students with emotional issues, nurtured an unlikely bond with a buxom tough girl who nonetheless still sucked a baby’s pacifier, and became the subject of inspirational well-written essays and catty, crayon-scrawled notes.

After leaving the public school system, I subbed for a while at the private day-and-boarding school I attended as a student. While covering a maternity leave there, I encountered teenagers on the verge of adulthood who filled my AP classroom with witty comments, literary criticism, and hope. Among the incoming freshmen, I took joy in being one of the first people to shake up their well-crafted ideas about how things work and to challenge them to do more than they previously thought possible. I currently inhabit the contrasting worlds of online private school teaching and classroom-based adult education. By day, I teach and advise training Olympians, aspiring actresses, children of diplomats, and self-motivated kiddos who simply decided that “the mainstream” wasn’t for them. By night, I enter the world of former teen moms, recovering addicts, and cheerful special needs adults who hung with “the system” for all 12 years and walked across the stage at graduation only to discover later that the “diploma” they were issued was only a certificate of completion, not the academic credential needed to go to tech. school or to get a job.

Outside the classroom, I’ve learned that public systems generally struggle because of the need to make it seem as though all students are identical when they’re anything but. The constraint of teaching a uniform group of standards to an intellectually diverse group of student doesn’t work. However, financial constraints and positive-yet-misguided intentions lead to a virtual quagmire within which some students (and, for that matter, teachers) still manage to flourish while others simply drown. On the private school side of the equation, I’ve realized these institutions are met with their own unique struggles and that, while private schools are “for me,” this certainly isn’t the case for everyone. Finally, I’ve discovered that the world of online learning is still largely an uncharted frontier. The online school has the potential to exceed students’ needs in ways a brick-and-mortar institution can never match. At the same time, it runs the risk of letting more souls fall through the cracks than any mainstream institution.

When I step back and consider all the information I’ve gathered along my path, two things become clear:

1. Students are unique individuals who need unique learning plans in order to become happy, intelligent, healthy contributors to the world we share.

2. Most schools lack a faculty member with the time, energy, knowledge, experience, and freedom to provide the kind of academic and personal guidance that each student needs.

These revelations have prompted me to offer academic guidance via MamaKelli.com. Think of me as your child’s private advisor. Curious about whether to make the switch to online learning? I’m there for your family. Unsure about whether to keep your child in his/her current school system? Again, I’ll have practical guidance for you. Rest assured that my advice is not the same across the board. Your child’s unique personality, prior academic performance, and life goals are paramount in shaping my reply. My experience as an academic advisor also qualifies me to ensure that your child is meeting graduation requirements and is taking courses optimized to fulfill his/her application to the college, university, or technical school of his or her choice. I can also help tremendously when it comes to deciding which type of advanced degree will be best when the time to make post-graduation plans comes.

Are you simply searching for a tutor? I’m there for that too. I specialize in English Language Arts for students in grades 6-college. Finally, I offer support to teachers at a cross-roads in need of career advice.

My sessions are conducted via the phone, live chat, or e-mail—according to your personal preferences and unique family needs. My cost is $25/hour for tutoring, and $25/half hour for consulting. Please click here to request my Find Your Path Academic Services. I look forward to working with you and wish you and your family the best in a lifetime filled with learning. J

Making It

Thu, 11 Feb 2010 14:51:16 +0100

Pictured Above: My husband's inner child (he's the handsome young fella on the left)

T o celebrate my 25^th birthday my husband Ryan and I traveled to St. George Island off the Florida coast. We went shelling one morning, and Ryan tied my sweater around my waist, fitting me with a little papoose in the process. As we deposited our sea-soaked treasures into the sweater, we named the stuffed papoose Shell Baby and joked that I was pregnant. About two weeks later, we discovered that I actually was.

Upon realizing we’d created a new life, we were both nervous and excited. We lived inside a warehouse where my husband ran his scenery/contracting business. A few years before he’d crafted a loft apartment there to accommodate his ex when she called from half a country away to announce that she was pregnant with their son. The plan had been to move to a house eventually when they could afford it, but the ex and the boy moved away before that day ever came. Thus, it fell to me and my baby to inspire a change, and my husband directed all his energy toward building a proper house on the skeleton of a quaint local relic near the railroad tracks. At the time, his business was stable enough, and I brought home steady income from my job as a public school teacher. Today every day at his shop is uncertain, and I rely on unemployment insurance to keep us afloat. The house is about 90 percent complete, and I’m about seven weeks pregnant with our second child.

The mix of emotions that followed our daughter’s conception had vanished. This time, we responded with outright fear. How can we support the baby financially? With our daughter still less than two years old, can we give them both the love and attention they need? When Ryan’s son is here, can we handle three children at one time?

The definitive answer to these in my mind is simple: Yes. Because we have to. However, my husband does not approach the issue with such a matter-of-fact attitude, and I understand his logic. Nonetheless, we are both finding our way to peace—mainly because of the love we have for each other and because of the natural lifestyle we live.

I know that other families must find themselves in similar situations. Therefore, I’d like to share the guidelines that are quickly becoming my unofficial guide to making it in uncertain times.

1. Clear your space. The focus it takes to organize my home office can become a form of meditation. The unproductive thoughts that normally kick around in my head quiet down, and I emerge from the task with a better idea of the next steps I need to take to bring our family stability. In a more literal sense, getting bills, documents, and to-do lists in order makes me feel like I’m taking power over them and brings me one step closer to actually resolving the charges or situations they represent.

2. Hold your children. My 19-month-old loves to climb, dance, count, sing, laugh, and sort and stack her small toys. However, sometimes, especially when her little feet start to stomp and her lower lip to tremble in the beginning of a long wail, she just wants me to hold her. Taking time out with her like this, even if for only 15 minutes, seems to heal something deep within us both.

3. Hold your significant other. Sometimes it helps me to look through an adult’s exterior to the child inside. We all have one, and, in uncertain times, it usually just wants to be held. Otherwise, tantrums and misunderstanding ensue.

4. Understand forgiveness. Even if you support each other, money worries and uncertainty can breed ugly emotions that present themselves in hurtful ways. Ask yourself, regardless of how the situation seems, if the person who upset you actually launched a pre-meditated attack. If your sincere answer is “no,” then you must forgive them. However, note that forgiving does not mean letting go. Instead it means seeing a situation as it really is—as in, that was your fear manifesting itself not a verbal assault of my worth. Then, make peace with the situation and do something productive afterward. Personally, I find it best to remove myself from a negative situation, write down my thoughts about it, and finally do something to show that I understand whatever really motivated the breakdown. Usually this means that after a tense episode with my husband about money, I go apply for more jobs. It shows support and is sincerely needed. Afterward, I hug him and assure him I love him. All together, those things really dismantle the negativity at every level and allow both parties to see life as it really is.

5. Give up guilt and blame. Time spent analyzing exactly how something went wrong is time wasted. As with forgiveness, the key is to recognize a situation as it actually exists not as others may perceive it to be. Forget the past. Just assess the present and do something pro-active about it.

6. Forget appearances. Related to #5, stop trying to make your family look like something it’s not, and instead make peace with who you actually are. Likewise, don’t subject your children to practices that aren’t practical for your household but you’ve been taught to think are essential. For example, I don’t think TV is good for kids, and avoiding it would be ideal. However, I don’t believe it’s bad for them either, provided that commercials are non-existent to minimal and the show is not violent or negative. Therefore, as long as my daughter continues to meet and exceed her developmental milestones, I’m fine with her spending time with Elmo, Curious George, Clifford and the other characters that frequent PBS.

7. Mine your talents. Lately, I’ve spent a lot of time asking myself what I’m actually good at professionally. The answers are teaching (but not in the traditional public school sense) and writing. Therefore, I’ve set about making these professions profitable. So far, I’ve landed a job teaching at an online private high school. The pay is only part-time, which is a problem, but I can work on changing that and continue to mine new opportunities to educate from home. As for the writing, I posted a portfolio online and, of course, there’s this--the article in your hands (which is the result of my new pledge to create something new every day).

8. Go online. When used wisely, the internet holds a great deal of potential. I use it to find information about government programs that can help us. (In harmony with #6, I have no shame in saying that I’m thankful for unemployment insurance, the public health department, and Medicaid.) I use the ‘net to research and apply to new jobs. (Gone are the days of dropping off applications in person. Accept it.) I use it to network with old friends and acquaintances who encourage me and can connect me to more of those new jobs! I also use it to work. Writing and online teaching can be done comfortably in my home office. I don’t have to leave the kids, plus staying home saves gas and helps the earth.

9. Go outside. Yes, I know I just touted the powers of the net, but, hey, wireless clouds now make it possible to get your computer to a park! Disconnected completely can also be good, and I recommend doing it on foot, if possible. Connecting with the Earth has time-honored healing and balancing powers. Likewise, getting out physically puts you in contact with neighbors who make great support systems and networkers too. And don’t forget. . . Walking around outside keeps you in shape, which keeps you feeling healthy and good about yourself, is a good change of scene for the kids, and encourages you to purchase locally, which is just a green, clean community-friendly thing to do.

10. If you’re expecting, consider natural childbirth. Admittedly, I know I’m on my soapbox here, but natural birth has financial, physical, and (I believe) psychological and spiritual benefits. There is no scientific evidence that it is dangerous to the mother or the child. In fact, healthy mothers and babies are subjected to more harm by undergoing a conventional hospital-based, epidural-fueled birth. Of course, natural births can happen in hospitals too. The key is to avoid narcotic drugs. These cost more and can hurt you and your child. They also prevent you from actually experiencing the way birth feels. My first birth lasted 39 hours and 42 minutes. To say that it hurt is a massive understatement. Yet, it was beautiful, and the whole time I labored I had the feeling that it was simply preparing me to embrace the changes of life. After all, if a woman can’t cope with the physical pain of delivering a baby, how can she cope with the emotional turmoil and potential pain that will develop as that child comes of age? Personally, I think the coping skills acquired during my first labor are a large part of what keeps me strong, focused, and hopeful in tumultuous times like these.

For more information about Henci Goer and her campaign for natural childbirth, click here.

Kyra Lena's Birth Story

Thu, 14 Jan 2010 05:06:54 +0100

This is the birth story of my daughter Kyra Lena. On Christmas Day, I discovered that I'm pregnant with my second natural child, my third total counting my stepson. In preparation for the new baby's arrival, I guess it's fitting to remember the first time I welcomed a new life to the world.

Two weeks before my due date, I interviewed a pediatrician, pre-registered at the hospital, and finished the paperwork regarding my stepson's custody trial . My husband and I went to sleep talking about my accomplishments and joking about how we needed more time. We woke to my water breaking, as though on cue, with the 6 AM alarm.

I remember feeling great excitement and anticipation. I sensed that my child's birth would simultaneously shatter my preconceived notion's about myself and the people-pleasing persona that I created during my adolesence, but it's only now, nearly one year later, that I'm feeling the effects of that revelation. At the time, I was focussed on timing my contractions the way I'd learned to do in Bradley Classes and on holding as still as possible while my husband hastily created a plaster caste of my pregnant torso in the chaos of our loft's kitchen. We arrived at the hospital 6 hours later, but I was only dilated to a one. Thus began what would become a record-breaking 39 hours and 42 minutes of labor. Since I failed to dilate, I was given the hormone oxytocin to strengthen my contractions. However, I successfully managed my pain without an epidural and achieved my goal of a narcotics-free birth.

There is no way I could have survived and avoided the epidural and/or a cesarian without my husband's support, so the whole experience is really as much his triumph as it is mine. He spent hours walking up and down the hospital halls with me leaning against his back. He held me close and breathed with me, directly into my mouth, during every contraction. He spent the night with his head beside the toilet on the cold bathroom floor when I sequestered myself in the warm shower because that helped the pain. He removed my parents from the hospital room when their fear became an impediment to my experience, and he called in his aunt Julie and our childbirth instructor Rachel when he needed help to keep me calm and on track. When the pushing stage began, he talked me through the process and kept me covered in olive oil so that I successfully avoided the need for an episiotomy and did not tear at all. Finally, he caught our child and became the first to announce that we had given birth to a baby girl. He held her up--bloody, kicking, and screaming in raw, healthy beauty, and my relief at the reality of her perfect existence became as tangible as the birth plan posted proudly upon our door.

I got to hold her for an hour before the hospital staff took her to the nursery for her preliminary examinations and first bath. During that time, I embraced her and rejoiced in the unusual notion that she had not come from me, but rather through me, and is not so much mine as she is a divine expression of love given form inside me. Every breath she takes is pure joy.

My Choices

Thu, 14 Jan 2010 05:34:41 +0100

The pull-up bar still graces the back of the door in Mr. Saunders’ old room. I remember always being amazed that a man with such girth could be an all-out vegan. Yet Skip Saunders was. When students involved in class publications traveled to a conference in New Mexico, he chaperoned and thus became the first person I’ve ever witnessed order a pizza without the cheese. In class, he regaled us with stories about the balance of good and evil—Paradise Lost, Faustus (Marlowe’s Version), The Canterbury Tales. In these yarns, darkness walked hand-in-hand with light, and the only thing separating an individual from either salvation or damnation was a simple choice.

This weekend, I chose to dance. My husband Christopher and I went to a benefit for CRBI, the local protectors of our diverse waterways. Holding our new puppy in one hand and our daughter in the other, with his son walking beside, my husband navigated the crowd and found the music. In front of the stage, little girls twirled, and childhood love affairs sprang up like dandelions after a rain. My teenage student Mary greeted me there and sent my 4-year-old stepson spinning happily across the green. Bowing to each other in moonlight, they made a sweet scene. Mary’s mother held my daughter while I spun blithely around my husband under the spell of the band. For her, it was a preview of grandchildren to come. “They’ll call me Toots!” she confided with delight.

What I’ve learned most from being a teacher is that people choose their own realities. I stand in front of the classroom and follow, to the best of my ability, a plan. However, every action I take is inevitably interpreted differently by each student who witnesses it. Then, it is re-interpreted (again differently each time) by every parent and co-worker who hears about it. Some interpretations are similar. Others are wildly different. None of them exactly reflect my intent. I enjoy substitute teaching in Mr. Saunders' old room because I'm working among the people who, to be completely honest, taught me how to think. If their perceptions aren't close to my own, they at least have a framework for understanding how I reached my conclusions. As a result, I can be myself without shame or fear. Of course, this arrangement is only temporary. In a few short weeks, the woman who normally inhabits Mr. Saunders' old room will return from maternity leave. Then, I'll be free to pursue my new job teaching for the online school Christa McAuliffe Academy. I'll be free to explore the world that manifested in the wake of all the changes that happened after I launched MamaKelli.com. I have returned to my former class so I can choose to leave.

9 Months

Fri, 13 Mar 2009 03:41:07 +0100

Kyra Lena is nine months old today. She can walk when her Papa holds her hands. She dances to acoustic jams and classic jazz. She calls out "Mama" when I've been away too long. She learns from the beat of a drum set to Shel Silverstein's poems. She laughs when I tell her my dreams. At bedtime, she pulls her blanket over her head and, with a coo, surrenders to the night.

Nine months ago, I relished the warm water soaking into my skin in a shower stall at the hospital. My husband washed my hair, and peace was the scent of jojoba oil on his hands, those hands that held me throughout the 39 hours and forty minutes of my drug-free labor, those hands that cradled our child when she had emerged 45 minutes ago. She was healthy. And beautiful.

Nine months ago, we took our daughter home to the apartment that my husband built inside his shop for his ex and their son. Three days later, Kyra Lena went to Atlanta to meet her brother. Two weeks after that, a spit-up scare sent us to Scottish Rite. At one month, I was relieved to see her health was fine. She went camping at the quarry lake where her father and I took the test that originally announced her conception. At three months, she dipped her feet into a waterfall.

Nine months ago, I did not know that we'd move into the house my husband built for our family, or that my stepson would start putting the word "mama" in front of my name. Nine months ago, I did not know that the economy would crash, and budget cuts would result in the elimination of my job.

Today I set a meeting with an investor about the community education center I would like to build in my evolving rural town. I applied for a scholarship to get an online masters degree in counseling psychology. I launched my website. I mapped out a freelance career plan. I began to outline a novel. Nine months after my daughter's birth, I have begun breathing life back into myself.

As I type in the office my husband designed, he sleeps sweetly on the couch nearby, and our daughter cuddles with a stuffed banana man in her crib. I smile at my thoughts about the future. There is power in nine months.

Kyra Lena at 9 months.