davidwb's iMET5 stuff

 

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?

Tuesday, September 09, 2003

 
Yet another article, this time from a widow in Toronto. I especially like her final paragraph:

"But it was the look in his eye that I recognized. The thing about being a widow is being alone, being the only one responsible for everything, and needing to ask for help in a way you never had to before."

Well put. I have always prided myself on being independent. Can't do that anymore.

TheStar.com - No how-to guide for catastrophe

Saturday, September 06, 2003

 
From DaveP on the WidowNet Message Board:

a href="http://www.fortnet.org/cgi-bin/ubb/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=next_topic;f=22;t=000728;go=older"

"A smart man pointed out to me that grief is like drinking from a well. Somedays you need to sit and drink very long and deeply, somtimes filling the bucket 20 or more times. This is especially true during the newness phase of this whole process. However, there will be times when you just stop by the well and sip from a cup. This horrid grief comes and goes. In the beginning it completely takes over your whole being. It is the only feeling in your mind and body and it is most debilitating. It does start to ease up. There is definitely a light at the tunnel. You hurt because you loved very deeply and truly, and that love is still there you just don't know where to put it so it turns to pain and longing."
 
Yet another in my journey through this all. This is a quote from C.S. Lewis, talking of grief. I think in many ways it's an apt analogy of what really is happening; I can't explain in. His words:

Getting over it soon?



But the words are ambiguous. To say the patient is getting over it after an operation on appendicitis is one thing; after he’s had his leg off is quite another. After that operation either the wounded stump heals or the man dies. If it heals, the fierce, continuous pain will stop. Presently he’ll get back his strength and be able to stump about on his wooden leg.

He has “got over it”.

But he will probably have recurrent pains in the stump all his life, and always perhaps pretty bad one’s and he will always be a one legged man. There will hardly be any moment when he forgets it. Bathing, dressing, sitting down and getting up again, even lying in bed, will all be different.

His whole life will be changed.

All sorts of pleasures and activities that he once took for granted will have to be simply written off. Duties too.

At present (in my grief) I am learning to get about on crutches. Perhaps I shall presently be given a wooden leg.

But I shall never be a biped again.


-“A Grief Observed” by C.S. Lewis

Taken from a wonderful tribute by Jerry McFadyen after the death of his wife, Teresa.

Wednesday, September 03, 2003

 
I found this page recently. Finally, someone who can put into words what I've been thinking these past 2 years, especially at night after the kids are asleep.

The author is a widow with children; at the time of her husband's death, her kids were the same age as mine when Leonor died. And we would have been the same age, too. I'm not much of a writer, though. It's nice to know that others feel the same way...

Here's what she wrote:
Why is this article entitled “When the Noise Stops?” Let me share with you an entry in my journal: “Today, nine months later, there is nothing unusual about this day. Today there was no special anniversary, no items of Jeff’s that I came across, no phone calls from old friends, just a regular day. And I miss him. I ache for him. Why? Because today is just a regular day – except when the night comes and the noise stops there is no voice, no laughter, no arguments (boy how I miss those stupid arguments now), no "I'm home" at 6 o’clock at night, no nothing. I have no one to split a sub sandwich with and no one to eat my pizza crusts.”

"When the Noise Stops"

Sunday, August 24, 2003

 
While I'm blogging:

Thought you'd want to know that the school where I'll be teaching this fall still isn't done. Many of the classrooms are complete, but the counters need touch-up work. My room, however, is Phase 2 (started later, when they knew they had the money to finish). I'll be surprised if it gets done in time. OK, I'll be shocked!

On the other hand, I spoke with my teaching partner for the first time this evening, and we'll get together briefly tomorrow. She sounds nice, and has 2 little kids just like I do. Should be fun.

Hope all of you enjoy your final week of freedom. I know I will!

-David
 
Found this in another blog, and I think it accurately (to a point) covers what I've been feeling:

When running a marathon, there are people along the route cheering as runners past. Sometimes friends and family will run a few miles alongside a participant and encourage them to take the next step, to make it to the next mile marker. There are those along the course that provide water, sports drinks, and energy bars. When people grieve there are those who assist and give encouragement: family, clergy, support groups. In the end, however, the grieving process is something people have to accomplish by themselves. It’s something that requires every ounce of strength and all your mental energy to complete.

This is from http://widower.diaryland.com/030724_29.html; he tells a wonderful story, and brings hope to me especially. I hope this helps understand how I feel, too, even after 2 years in mourning.

My only disagreement, and I think it's more a matter of time/feeling than anything else, is that I don't expect to ever "complete" the mourning process. My wife has been gone for just a little over 2 years, and I still think about her every day. Don't cry as often as I used to (though this evening I did, in reaction to a song in a movie my kids were watching). That said, I can't foresee the day when the hole will be filled completely. Perhaps since Widower has gone on that day will come.

For those who haven't read his site, it's worth reading the whole thing. Wish I could write like that.

-David

Tuesday, March 25, 2003

 
Read this in the March 2003 edition of Technology & Learning magazine, page 6:

A Modest Proposal
"Details need to be worked out, but I want every child in California to be given a 13-year prison sentence at age 5, with the possibility of a four-year extension. That way, the $7,000 the state spends per student each year could immediately be raised to $27,000--what the state spends on each inmate annually. And our criminally underfunded schools would qualify for the only category in the governor's proposed budget that's slated to get more money this year."
--from "Raising the Bars," by Margo Freistadt, San Francisco Chronicle, January 19, 2003 (sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2003/01/19/IN197116.DTL)

Does this mean Teachers would get the same Salary and Retirement as Correctional Officers (95% at age 50)?

Interesting idea.....

Wednesday, March 12, 2003

 
Hi all.

Just a note to see how Blogger's BlogThis! menu item works.

-David

Friday, March 07, 2003

 
I wish my DO would get their act together. We've been waiting for a whole year, knowing that we're transferring. They finally posted the core positions (internal only--I'll keep you posted if external openings appear).

Interesting aside: When they made their initial "core" postings in December, they left out several classes that are required of all students (among them Health and Computers). It was quite a fight to convince them that, since it's Required, it's NOT an Elective class. It took the personnel office quite a while to understand that.

Anyway, we just got the postings this week, to close Friday. Interviews are scheduled next Friday and the Friday following, but then they won't let us know until the end of April.

All the while we're dealing with needing to set-up our programs for next year. Going to be a long summer (which they've told us we probably won't get paid for).

In addition, they won't even make a decision as to what equipment and books can be considered grade-level-only and moved with the program. Just one more thing...

-D
 
The research project is starting to stress me out. How do I decide on a topic if I don't have a clue what I'm going to teach next year? etc, etc. Very frustrating.