For example, Tally seems passionate about the environment and the idea that society cannot be allowed to “spread out” as it desires. Tally expressed this over and over throughout all three books, but the story never examined the issue. There was never an exploration of why this is bad. Tally always thought that it was bad, but maybe that was just part of her societal programming. Just because she doesn’t undo that particular programming does not mean it isn’t programming. Nothing in the story (that I can think of) supports Tally’s paranoia. She was horrified when the Smoke was spreading outside the city, but she learned to be okay with it.

There seemed to be many issues that were dealt with this way. So yeah, fun books, but a little disappointing.

Teaching is incredibly taxing. It feels a lot like parenting, where there’s a whole lot of giving without a lot of appreciation. You never seem to hear when you are doing something right, only when you’re doing something “wrong.” Sure the occasional business will throw you a bone–and don’t think I didn’t take FULL advantage of Sonic’s half off teacher appreciation day–but the sweet, little 13-year-olds I actually work with/for, are…slow to praise. When I was a new teacher my mentor gave me a profound warning. She said, “You can swing from the chandelier naked, and in three days they will still say they’re bored.” But, herein lies the pleasure.

The thing that I like most about my job is the immense room for improvement. When I started teaching I was so excited for that day when I had all my lesson plans for the year done and all I had to do was “tweak.” Ha! What a joke that turned out to be. Every year I overhaul my class. I change the books we read, the projects we do, the ideas we research, etc. And I am so glad I do. It keeps me anxious and busier than I ever want to be. But it keeps my job exciting and creative.

I frequently go to conferences, read books or blogs, or collaborate with other teachers to learn all the many ways I’m doing it wrong. Sometimes I come away frustrated with all the work I still have to do and how far I still am from my goal. But more often I come away charged up by all the new challenges.

No matter how long I teach, or how well versed I become in my content, there will always be new and better ways to teach my students because the world is always changing, which means my students will always be changing. Fortunately, there are a few constants in the whirlwind we call teenagers: they will always be hard (but not impossible) to please. Like my high school choir teacher, they will withhold all semblance of approval until long after it is earned. But on that rare occasions when they slip up and let you see how they really feel…you walk away golden.

When she was only a few weeks old, I left the baby sleeping on the couch while I went to the bathroom. The thought occured to me that it was much more disconcerting to leave a sleeping infant when that sleeping infant has an older sibling. Seconds later I hear a baby whimpering, and it sounds way too close for comfort. “What are you doing?” I called to my son, hurrying to see for myself. As I reached the hallway I found my two-year-old caring my two-week-old upside down in a bear-hug. “Mama, I need help with the baby,” he informed me.

When I tell Ian he is my love, Vincent always follows up with, “Cecelia’s my love.” And whenever we tell Cecelia to be quite or stop crying Vincent races to her defense and says, “No, she has to cry. You have to let her cry!”

Yesterday Cecelia was crying in the living room and I was in the bathroom bathing Vincent. “Mom, Cecelia’s crying,” Vincent informed me. “She needs you mama.” I told him that she was with daddy and that I was sure she was okay. “No mama, you go make a bottle and I will feed her,” he told me. He is always very concerned for her well being.

Why did she have to say that? I was having a hard enough time not getting anxious. I kept trying to tell myself that this baby wasn’t coming until June, but when your midwife says something like that!

I feel a few contractions on my way home. I try to nap, rest up for the big night ahead, but I am too worked up to sleep. If I am going to do this tonight, I am going to have to do it tired. I wait with half a mind on what I am doing and half a mind on any slight sensation that might lead to a contraction.

It is a very long weekend of fruitless anticipation. By Sunday night I give up and resign myself to another late induction.

Monday, May 25: Memorial day. We spend our vacation hard at work preparing for the baby. We clean out the old car seat and install it in our car, clean the house, sort through the old baby clothes, buy some new trees for the yard, etc.

Around 5 p.m. we head to my parents’ house for a family dinner. We start talking about all the silly things we tried to put me into labor last time I was pregnant. My brother asks me if I have tried curb walking. I tell him that I haven’t. He becomes very preoccupied (as is his nature) for the next half hour or so, searching online for ways to induce labor.

Finally he finds one he likes: acupressure.  My brother has done some massage therapy school and learned how to do acupressure. So when he reads that there is a pressure point (I guess that’s what you call it) that is supposed to induce labor he becomes very excited to try it. I have little faith in the idea, but all it requires of me is lying on the couch while he holds my ankles. At that price, it is worth a try. He tries several times, for long stretches. He probably spends an entire hour all together. But in the end, he feels he is too out of practice, and he never manages to synchronize my pulses.  I thank him for trying and tell him that if I go in to labor that night I’ll take him fore sushi.

Tuesday, May 26, 1:55 a.m.: I wake up feeling slightly wet in a very personal area and get up for one of my many, nightly potty breaks. As I sit up I feel a little more wet, and with each step to the bathroom, more liquid runs down my legs. Any one who knows me well knows that I have wet my pants many times. This is not the same feeling. This is not urine.

I clean myself up and debate what to do. I know that once your water breaks you are supposed to go to the hospital. But I am not feeling any other signs or symptoms of labor and I really don’t want to labor the whole time in the hospital. I decide to call my midwife. I explain the situation, she asks me a few questions, and decides I can just go back to bed. Hallelujah. I know that what I need more than anything is to get some good sleep. We stayed at my parents’ house far too late, so I have only had about 2 hours of sleep at this point. I don’t wake Ian up for this same reason.

As you can probably imagine, I am unable to make myself go back to sleep. The excitement is too much for me. At about 3:30 I decide to sneak out into the living room and get a movie to watch so I am at least still resting. The commotion wakes Ian. “Did you wet yourself?” he asks me.

I don’t know how to respond. I know he needs sleep, but I am also excited to tell him the good news. “Um, maybe,” I reply. “I’m pretty sure my water broke, actually.” He asks if we need to go to the hospital and I tell him the midwife said we could wait until morning.

“So do I have time to go plant my trees?” he asks. It’s 3:30 in the morning and his wife is in labor, what else would he worry about?

Neither of us can sleep, so we sit down and watch a few episodes of a show we have been watching recently. I have a few more contractions, and just enough “spills” to convince me that this is the real deal. I look at the clock on our living room wall and realize that it has stopped: at 1:55.

Finally, around 6 a.m., we decide it’s time to rest and both take about a two hour nap.  Vincent wakes us around eight and we decide we need to get some things taken care of before we head to the hospital. Ian heads out into the yard to plant his three birthday fruit trees (a nectarine and two apples). I hop on the phone to order 50 pizzas, ice cream, and drinks for a school party. Yes, I am that bad of a procrastinator. Auntie Rhoda takes Vincent to stay with Auntie Lia.

We know I’m not supposed to eat once I check into the hospital, so we get breakfast burritos from Betos and chocolate donuts from Albertson’s on the way: last supper.

12:00 noon: We check into labor and delivery at American Fork Hospital. They take us into triage room number 1 and confirm that yes, I am having contractions (though usually I am not feeling them),  and yes, the strange liquid leaking out of me is amniotic fluid. They also check my cervix and find that I am dilated to a 4+ and am 80% effaced. Our nurse’s name is Moana, and although she looks white as can be, is part Maori.

When they take us to our Labor and Delivery room I am very pleased. It is all the way in the corner, which means that there is very little traffic outside and that we have two walls of windows. It’s beautiful: full of natural light, spacious, and welcoming. I feel much better about having to come to the hospital so early after seeing our room. Soon after, the midwife comes and tells me we have until 4 p.m. to get this labor going on its own. Otherwise they are going to break out that nasty old pit that gave me such a miserable experience last time. She gives us a few things to try and leaves us to it.

We start out with some walking. Unfortunately, once checked in we aren’t allowed to leave the LD floor. Walking that tiny circle of rooms gets really old really fast. Especially since everyone we pass has to make some little comment about our small track and how we are “really walking.” Every 10 laps or so we head back to the room so that I can empty my tiny bladder and we can try some squatting.  Next we try the jetted tub, which feels great, but also doesn’t seem to help.

4:00 p.m. The midwife, Roberta, and her assistant (a midwife in training), Erica, return for another checkup. I am now dilated to a 5 and almost 100% effaced. It isn’t much, but it is enough progress that they give us until 5 p.m. to establish a regular contraction pattern. We decide that none of these moving-around tricks are helping, so we will keep me hooked to the machine hoping to prove I am contracting regularly. Contractions are coming about 7 minutes apart, but aren’t getting too much stronger or closer together.

5:00 p.m. Last chance. Not enough progress. They give me until 6:00 p.m.–no later. We decide that this has been dragging on a bit, and it would be nice to get things going. We resign ourselves to the pit and settle in to watch some James Bond: Quantum of Solace.

6:00 p.m. Changing of the guard. Moana comes in and puts in the IV. Yuck. I hate those things. I find them so uncomfortable. Moana says goodbye and good luck. The next nurse on duty comes in about 6:15 and starts the pit. Here goes nothing.

7:30  p.m. another check:  6 cm, 90 percnent, station 0. Pitocin is working, but so slowly we fear we are in for a long night. We are still watching James Bond but not really enjoying it. I just about got caught by the nurse eating some beef jerky.

8:00 p.m. the midwives are concerned that the contractions are not strong enough and decide to place an internal monitor. A few more contractions and they are confident that that strength is good and we should be progressing quickly soon. They grab chairs and settle in for the long haul. Roberta is concerned that the baby is not fully facing the right direction and has me roll over and lie on my right side. After a few minutes we hear a release of air and Roberta says it is the sound of the baby moving into place.

The contractions are getting quite painful and start to take all of my concentration to bear. Roberta pushes on my back, Erica rubs my feet, and Ian holds my hand.  After 20 minutes they rotate. Erica doesn’t seem to have the force necessary for adequate counter pressure, so she stays at my feet while Ian takes the back and Roberta massages my hands. Robert keeps telling me that we are close and that I will be done soon, but I’m sure she is just saying that to make me feel better. I haven’t been checked since the monitor went in and the contractions got worse, so I have no idea how well I am doing. I start contemplating an epidural. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.

I begin to feel a strong pressure and I can’t seem to relax the muscles no matter how hard I try. Roberta reads my body language and tells me to go ahead and push if I feel the need. Eureka! That’s what the feeling is. I am shocked. I didn’t realize how close we really are. I move back onto my back, sit up a bit, and begin to push. The pressure is extremely painful, but things are progressing much more quickly than I thought they would. I realize that this is the end and I am doing this naturally. There is no chance of getting an epidural now. I am surprised and very proud of myself.

Reading my body language again, Roberta tells me to grunt when I push. It helps. She tells me to scream if I want. I try it. Screaming with the pushes seems to be a kind of emotional release and feels great. I wanted to be one of those tough women who doesn’t even scream in child birth, but at this moment I couldn’t care less. After a few long minutes of pushing Ian is already seeing the head.  A few more screams and her head is out. One more and they pull her shoulders and body out.

Roberta places Cecelia on my stomach and the nurses vigorously wipe her down. I make a quick check to confirm she is, indeed, a girl. Cecelia isn’ t breathing yet, so they quickly whisk her away and finish the clean up/evaluation process.

I am amazed at how quickly I feel normal again. None of the daze and exhaustion of the last labor. I immediately have my brain back. I tell Ian to grab the video camera and record what he can of Cecelia’s first moments in this world. We planned to do more filming earlier, but things went so quickly we were caught off guard.

Cecelia is beautiful and healthy. 19 inches long, 7 pounds 15 ounces. She has a bluish forehead  and dark red eyes from all the pressure but otherwise seems perfect. They give me one stitch, finish with Cecelia, congratulate us, and leave us alone for a while. I feed Cecelia while Ian feeds me: a hard-earned sandwich box with heavenly orange juice. I swear no drink ever tastes better than post-labor orange juice.

Quite an ordeal, but an amazing experience. Time for some much-needed rest and family bonding time.

Recently the Utah legislature has done just that. They have made two (that I want to rant about) decisions that are completely ridiculous, despite warnings and pleadings from the experts.

A bit of background: Every year the State Core (which is what determines what teachers are supposed to teach) designates a certain type of writing that the students are supposed to learn. In 9th grade the emphasis is persuasive writing. The 9th grade teachers spend about half the year teaching persuasive writing. Then the district assigns the Direct Writing Assessment (DWA) and every ninth grader has to write on the same prompt. The essays are then sent off to be scored by district-trained specialists, and by the end of the year the students get scores back that reflect their current ability, and therefore their likelihood of passing the UBSQT (the test every Utah student has to pass in order to receive a diploma).

Flashing back to the present: Like everyone, the legislature is looking at ways to cut costs and save money. One of the ways they are doing this–handing over the DWA to artificial intelligence. Instead of having humans with brains read and grade the essays, they are having them submitted on the computer for an AI program to read and grade. Our district has been using this program for years. We know it’s a fun tool to help kids develop their editing skills. We also know it has serious limitations and is NOT reliable as an assessment tool. We have seen, first hand, students who have tricked the program by writing one paragraph and then copying and pasting it 4 more times and getting an almost perfect score. Or one student who wrote nothing but the letter “L” over and over but put in spaces for words and paragraph breaks. We have also seen students write fantastic papers that the AI marked as “unscorable” or “off topic” because it was too metaphorical. Bottom line, we now have a high stakes test with a completely unreliable score.

And the second brilliant decision? They moved the test from 9th grade to 8th grade. The 9th grade teachers tried to tell the legislature that the students are not yet ready for serious persuasive writing in 8th grade. Not to mention it diminishes the effectiveness of their teaching if they spend the year focusing on a type of writing that the students were assessed on the previous year. The 8th grade teachers tried to tell the legislature that they are barely getting through the core curriculum as is; there is no way they have time to add a completely new section (one that, may I reiterate, the 9th grade teachers spend almost half a year on). But does the legislature listen? No.

Why? Because when this fails no one will die and no property will be damaged. No buildings will collapse. No ships will sink. No consequences will fall on them because, most importantly, no money will be visibly lost. Before it fails it will be millions of dollars saved. After it fails it will be swept under the rug and replaced by something new.

1) Your irresponsibility is hurting those around you.
2) It’s time to stop holding the grudge. I had my reasons too.

3) There are things worse than loneliness; you should know.

4) Stop kicking me!
5) You are a complete waste of my time.
6) I’m not a prude, you’re a bigot.
7) Your “genius” would be much more believable if you did something with it.
8 You don’t have to save everybody.
9) I have finally learned to respect our differences.
10) You are failing because you are a lazy, good-for-nothing slacker!!

Nine Things About Myself:

1) Like most people, I think I am smarter than most people.

2) I love to sing, but I hate for anyone to hear me.
3) I am a terrible student. I am virtually everything that I can’t stand in my own students.
4) I am nothing like the person I thought I would be at 14.
5) I have no desire to be the person I thought I would be at 14.
6) After 28 years of neglect, I finally started flossing my teeth.
7) I dream about my students all the time
8 I eat chocolate almost every day. I am that bad.
9) Although I am an English teacher, I think I read less than the average person.

Eight Ways to Win My Heart:

1) give it chocolate
2) remember things about it
3) respect its passions
4) share what you love with it
5) rest your hand on my side
6) love my family
7) sing to it
8 seduce it with logic and reason

Seven Things That Cross My Mind a Lot:

1) What life will be like with two kids
2) All the students that I’m not helping
3) Food
4) The need to exercise
5) How excited I am to stay home with my family this summer
6) How much I hate northern Utah County drivers.
7) Suspenders

Six Things I Do Before I Fall Asleep:

1) take my vitamins
2) floss, brush my teeth, mouth wash
3) stretch and do stomach exercises
4) meditate

5) pray
6) tell my boys I love them

Five People Who Mean a Lot to me:

1) Ian
2) Vincent
3) Cecelia
4) The rest of my family
5) viewers like you…

Four Things I’m Wearing Right Now:

1) shoes (but only because I am at work)
2) tan pants (one of the few pairs of pants I can still wear comfortably)
3) my wedding ring

4) the necklace my husband bought me 4+ years ago (to replace the one he broke with his massive neck muscles).

Three Songs I’ve been listening to a lot lately:

1) You Don’t Know Me by Ben Folds
2) Merry Happy by Kate Nash
3) Bingo as sung by Vincent, Ian, and Myself

Two Things I Want to Do Before I Die:

1) vacation in New Zealand
2) get a Master’s degree in creative writing

One Confession:

I lack the dedication required to ever be great at anything.

can recognize and name the two main characters on Bones?

says, “I’m sexy,” while rubbing his belly when he doesn’t have a shirt on?

says, “Hi naked boy!” when he sees his father naked?

tells me it’s not ‘ppropriate for me to yell at the dog and sends me to timeout?

reminds me to say “excuse me” when I burp?

still sleeps 5 nights a week in my bed despite the hundred times that I have said we are not going to let him anymore?

can already make the boy-patented, machine-gun noise and knows to look down the barrel when he “shoots”?

when asked to stop picking his nose responds with, “But there are boogers up there!”?

Well, I know the answer is probably yes, but who has time for good parenting these days when there are so many good shows to watch on T.V.?

The first trimester was rough. I did a lot more throwing up with this one than I did with the last one. And I was working a full time, stressful, demanding job, where last time I was working a part time, low stress job–working for a friend who was very understanding if I wanted to come in late or not at all due to sickness. Somehow we got through it. Although my adoring husband spent a lot of the time begging that we never do this again. I guess he isn’t fond of living with a beast.

Second trimester for me is usually cake. The sickness stops, the libido increases (I know you wanted to know that), and I don’t yet feel like Barbra manatee. It is also when I start feeling the baby kick and when we have the ultrasound.

With our last ultrasound, the baby was very cooperative, not shy in the least. Luckily, this baby was the same. It sat very still with its legs and body in a great position for the technician to easily point out her little woman bits. That’s right, we’re having a baby girl.

This was very exciting because we already have three of her four names picked out. Yes we are crazy enough to give a girl four names. She will be called Cecilia (Sp) after her aunt and great grandma Cecilia on daddy’s side, Laurel after her mommy and great grandma on mommy’s side, then some family Maori name that we haven’t yet decided on.

It was also a little sad because it means this will be our last child. We agreed before we were married that we would have two kids if they were different genders and three if they were the same. I was hoping for a boy so I could get three, but I’m still very excited for a little girl. And honestly, at this point, it’s hard to be disappointed about not ever having to be pregnant again.