Graduation Day

I graduated from San Francisco State University last Saturday. I needed to put a great big metaphoric exclamation point on the end of my university experience, so I walked with 2000 other graduates dressed head to toe in purple. I sat in the blazing sun listening to speech after boring speech on a jumbo-tron because the actual speaker was too far away from me to see. The stupid cap kept sliding off the back of my head and the "hood" all masters candidates wear continued to choke me, despite my heavy ring of keys I'd attached under my robes to hold it off my neck. The only one in my O and M class who decided to walk, I felt a little lonely surrounded by large groups of celebrating students from other departments. But at last I got to walk to the podium, get my bright purple envelope (they send the actual diploma in the Fall) and shake the hand of a University chancellor. For those sixty seconds, I was buoyant; I could have flown above the heads of every single person crammed into the stadium on the wings of my bright purple robes. (read more on my other blog, Medusa's Muse)

Me in front of the Visual Impairments Classroom, after the ceremony.  Nobody looks good in that hat!

What does one wear with a bright purple cap and gown?

Saturday is commencement and I'm walking. I'm not really sure why this has become so important to me. None of my classmates are walking; I will be the lone student from the Orientation and Mobility department walking to the podium to receive my mock-diploma. They don't even call your name during the ceremony, you just stand up in a line and one-by-one walk across the stage to shake hands with the Dean, get your picture taken, and then leave. They'll mail me my diploma in a couple of months.

this is the test shot from the photographer back in Feb, when I was still frazzled and exhausted from school.  I had just dropped off my application to graduate and thought, "Why not? I'll assume I'm graduating and get my picture taken." 

Why on Earth do I want to sit on a folding chair with 3000 strangers in the middle of Cox stadium, in the cold (mid-50's in San Fran on Saturday!), and listen to some people I don't know give speech after boring speech for two hours? It's insane. I should just have the party and skip the pomp and circumstance.

But I really, really, really, really, really want to put on that bright purple cap and gown and go to commencement. It feels like putting an exclamation point on the end of this chapter of my life. I survived grad school! I am now a Credentialed Teacher of Orientation and Mobility with a Masters degree. Against some crazy odds, and with the incredible support of my husband and my friends, I did it.

Would skipping commencement change any of those facts? Nope, but it sure will feel good sitting on that field knowing my husband and brother-in-law are out in that crowd somewhere cheering for me.

So think of me on Saturday, and raise a toast in my general direction. Life is good.

Oh, and if it is indeed doomsday, could you all wait until AFTER my graduation party? I'd like to celebrate a little before the rapture. 

Does this mean I graduate?

This letter from SFSU regarding the Master's exam arrived yesterday. See the word "Pass"?

I'm guessing that means I get to graduate this year.

If you'll excuse me, I'll be doing the happy dance right now.

I'm Done with School

I can't seem to comprehend that statement.

I'm done with school

I don't have any more tests to study for or papers to write. I'm done school.

Two-and-a-half years of hard work is finished. I'm done with school.

Really?

Really.

Clearing off three shelves in my book case, I packed away my text books and binders and notes and projects, filling three plastic bins with everything I've learned in grad school. Then I put them up in the attic. Yes, I know I may need some of these once I start work, but I don't want to look at them right now. Instead, I'm looking at the three empty shelves on my book case to help cement the idea in my head: I'm done with school.

See, the books are gone.

All the work I did preparing for my exams is cleared from my desk. There is room to write again.

My Master's exam was last friday and although I won't know for sure if I passed or not until mid-April, I feel pretty confident that I did. It was a four hour essay exam and I had to show everything I've learned about teaching Orientation and Mobility to visually impaired people with complex diagnoses, such as deaf-blindness and diabetes. I had to explain the criteria for when a person should use a cane, or when they are considered safe to travel without one. After a few moments of panic when my brain went utterly blank and I couldn't even remember what the hell a white cane was used for, I just started writing, and then all that info that was crammed into my synapsis came pouring out. I probably wrote too much, but I didn't want to leave anything out that might be important for the test reader to see. When I left the room I was bleary eyed from staring at a computer screen under fluorescent lights for so long, my hands cramping from typing on an unfamiliar keyboard and my brain numb with fatigue. The three other classmates who were taking the test with me looked just as drained, but we were also grinning, because we all felt confident we passed.

Done!

That night we celebrated with several other classmates who came to join the celebration, and we drank margaritas and talked about looking for jobs and worried about money and laughed about the past and which lessons were our favorites and which lessons were horrible... as if we were in the same platoon and the war was over, but we needed to rehash a few battles just to talk to someone who understands. We talked about having a reunion every year; I hope we do.

Now I'm home, slowly working my way through that long list of things that have been waiting for me to do while I was so busy with school, like read books for pleasure; organize the pantry; have a Dr. Who marathon; iron. I supposed I should get cracking on preparing for a job, but I just can's pull myself together enough to make that happen. Maybe next week.

Feels weird suddenly having so much free time. I'm so used to being busy and stressed out, I don't know how not to be busy and stressed out. Obviously, I need more practice doing nothing. Perhaps sitting on the couch reading a novel will help.

One more exam and I'm freaking out!

You'd think I'd be used to this by now, but I'm obviously not. I have five days until my last exam, this time for my Master's degree, and I am completely...

FREAKING OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And this is supposed to be the "easier" test, compared to my Certification exam. There are five questions, probably case studies, of which I choose three. Plus there is a Pro-Con question on a controversial issue in the O and M field.  Or at least that's my guess. It's an essay test, not multiple-choice like the last one, and I'm also guessing I'll be writing about teaching a hypothetical student with a certain type of vision impairment. Sounds easy, right? I mean, I should know this. It's what I've spent the last two-and-a-half years learning to do. If I can't do it, I didn't learn a damn thing and shouldn't be a teacher. Right?

Which is why I am freaking out! If I fail this test, not only will I not graduate, but I'll also prove to everyone, including myself, that I am not qualified to be a teacher.

Tests make me crazy.

I'm sure this anxiety has more to do with my insecurities and lack of confidence in my abilities than any real lack of knowledge. I suspect that I really do know how to assess and teach people with vision impairments. I just haven't done it very much to prove to myself that I can. So here comes this test which is pushing all of my low-self-esteem buttons, making me feel like a babbling idiot who shouldn't be allowed to teach anyone. I should take up landscaping, because at least when you work with plants, you can't hurt them. Oh wait, yes I could. Never mind.

For the next three days I will be studying like a crazy person, because that's what I am right now: crazy. Then on thursday I will go to the City and stay with my friend's again where I will get a good night's sleep and ignore as best I can that I have a test in the morning. On Friday I take the test, then Friday night I get good and drunk with my classmates, because that will be it. All done. No more to do for my Master's degree.

Except finish my internship paperwork. But that will have to wait until next week. I can only take on so much crazy at one time. 

Hello, Brain. Are you there?

image from For Ladies by Ladies

Are you there Brain? It's me, Terena.

Mmummmmmblmummblemm...


Thanks so much for being there when I needed you during my Cert test. You really came through for me.

Mmmummmmblemmm....


But I kind of need you again.

Brain?

Brain? Are you there?

Mmmmmm waaaaaaatchinnnnnnnng tv


I mean, I know the Cert test is over, but I have one more exam I need to take to graduate. My master's exam. You remember that? It's the one I have to take to get my Master's degree and graduate.

Mmmm yeah I remmemmmberrrrr


Well, I should really study a little for it. I know it's not as intense as the Certification exam, but I need to go over street crossing and intersection analysis, and I'm a little weak on some of the eye conditions.

Mmmmmm oooookaaaaay......

And there's a lot to do around here. The house is a mess, especially the pantry. There must be two years of crap shoved in there. I could use some of your organizational skills right now.

Mmmmm yeah suuuure whateverrrrrrrrr


Plus, Queen Teen's transition IEP is coming fast and I need to schedule meetings with the Regional Center and follow up on Audiology and Endochrinology and I really need to concentrate on ASL now. I'm about a year behind where I should be on Sign Language.

Mmmmmm, iiiiis thaaaat johnnnny depp onnn tv?

And oh my god, I still haven't done the taxes for Medusa's Muse and I know I'm late getting Laura her 1099 misc form. I have to tally up all the sales for 2010, which shouldn't take too much effort actually because there weren't that many direct sales and Lightning Source has already tallied the sales for the year, so that shouldn't be too complicated...

Mmmmhmmm

.... but it's not something I can do without you, so if you could just wake up a little bit and help me get organized that would be really great.

Mmmmmm, johnnnnnny prrrrrrreteeeeey

Brain?

Brain?

BRAIN!

Mmmmmm....


Will you please snap out of it? We have more work to do.

Mmmmmmmkay

For god's sake stop staring at that TV and help me!

Mmmmm no


What do you mean no? You can't say no! You have to do what I say!

Mmmmnoooo I doonnnnnn't.

But I can't do any of this without you!

Mmmmmmm yeaaaah


What am I supposed to do? Let the work keep piling up while you stare at Johnny Depp all day?

Mmmmmhmmmmm...


But there's no time for that!!!!!!

Mmmmmyeah   therrrrre issssssss


Fine! I'll just sit on this couch and watch TV until you're ready!

Mmmmmkay


Because lord knows there's nothing else that needs doing but staring at a television watching some gorgeous hunk dressed like a pirate play with his sword.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm


Although... it is Johnny Depp and he is my favorite actor and well... it's only for a little while because I've been working so insanely hard and haven't had much of a break since Burning Man...

Mmmmmhmmmmm.....


.... and I suppose things can wait for just one more day while I take some much needed R and R.

Mmmmmhmmmmm


It's not like the world will end or anything...

Mmmmmmmmhmmmm


Oh I love this part!  "The only rules that matter are these: what a man can do, and what a man can't do."

Mmmmmm


Kind of true when you think about....

......

.....

.....

.....

Brain.

Mmmmm


Tomorrow we are getting the Medusa taxes together and studying for that test.

Mmmmmmmh weeeee'll seeeeeeeeeeeeee

Study, Study, Cough, Cough, Study, Study, Cough, Cough

Right now I am preparing for the biggest exam of my life: the Orientation and Mobility Certification Test. I've been studying "Big Red" (Foundations of O and M, the bible of my field) since September, but now the actual test date is fast approaching: February 22nd, 12:15 PM. And in usual Terena style, I am freaking out. Every time I go through the study guide I realize just how much I don't know. How is that even possible? I've been studying this crap for 2 and a half years, you'd think I'd know it in intimate detail.

Who developed the first Orientation and Mobility program in the US and when? Where was the first dog guide school located? What are "rods?" Where is the macula? What types of anxiety are most keenly felt by a person who is newly blind? Define "neuropathy." What is the hz threshold of normal hearing? What are the three most common eye disorders in the US in adults? What are some of the eye conditions that can cause nystagmus. Why did you drop the book on the floor and why is your head now banging against the desk?

To make things more interesting, I am still sick. I ended up with a sinus infection needing antibiotics and have been coughing so much the inside of my chest feels like I've been kicked repeatedly by a donkey. I'm pretty sure I have bronchitis, so I guess I should go back to the doctor. Queen Teen is bright and healthy and back to her grinning, ornery self. Rick was only sick for about four days and I think he took maybe one nap during the two hours he had a fever. Me? I'm going on week three of feeling like crap.

I actually scheduled time to get sick in April, after both of my exams and our trip to Disneyland, but before I graduate in May. My body refused to follow the timeline, however.

Last thursday was my last day interning with Laura Fogg, and it feels weird not working with her. I missed going to Fort Bragg with her this monday, and I miss my students, especially the Fort Bragg kids and the preschooler who was just starting to cruise around and explore his class. Luckily I live with one of my students; Queen Teen provides plenty of opportunity to practice teaching. It was incredibly stressful trying to juggle the needs of my family with someone else's schedule, but I already miss hearing Laura's light "beep-beep" of her car horn letting me know she's there. I miss her smile and her greeting, "Good morning." My last week was so anticlimactic because I was sick and only worked a couple of hours each day. I went to a meeting on Thursday and then went home to bed. All done. Laura and I plan to celebrate properly after my test.

My test... guess I'd better get back to studying. Not much longer now. After March 18th, when I take my master's exam I will be  ALL DONE.

Come on body, don't fail me know.

Full Circle - Interning with Laura Fogg

The first book I published through my press, Medusa's Muse, was called Traveling Blind: Life Lessons from Unlikely Teachers, written by my daughter's Orientation and Mobility Teacher, Laura Fogg. A memoir about her 30 years as a teacher of visually impaired children, Laura shares stories about many of her students and what each child taught her about life, joy, grief and hope. My own daughter's story is one of the chapters. I had watched her for 10 years working with my daughter, but publishing her book gave me a clear picture of what being a teacher of visually impaired people was like. Shortly after the book was released in November, 2007, I applied to the O and M program at San Francisco State.

Last week I started my internship with Laura, riding with her all over Mendocino County, teaching toddlers and high school students, both multiply disabled and able bodied, English and Spanish speaking. She also works with other teachers to help them understand a child's vision issues and parents to help them communicate their child's needs. She eats lunch in her car and rarely takes a break. Occasionally she works 10 hour days. But through it all, she seems joyful and tireless. Even when she's starting to feel the stress because everything happens at once, she has a smile on her face. 

I want to be just like her when I grow up.

Life has come full circle. Queen Teen was born visually impaired. Laura has been her teacher for 12 years. Laura wrote a memoir. I published it. Her book inspired me to go to school. Laura is now my Master Teacher.

Hey, someone tell Oprah. I think our story would make an excellent feature for her magazine.

The other perk to this internship is I now get to work with my own daughter. It kind of feels like cheating taking Queen Teen on shopping trips and nature walks after school. Queen Teen is in heaven. She likes going on outings with Laura, but with Mom in tow, it's that much better.

And this is Laura's office

Anderson Valley in October

And this...

And here's one more shot of Laura Fogg's office, which is mine for the next five weeks...

The Village of Mendocino

No wonder she loves her job.

How do Working Moms do it?

My butt is officially whipped. I started my internships in September and have come crashing into the middle of that work/life balancing act. How do working moms do this? How do you work full time while raising children, not to mention keep up with laundry, dishes, groceries, bills, housework and still maintain some kind of relationship with your husband? I'm not working yet, but I might as well be. My crazy life has been forced to conform into another person's schedule and I am losing my mind!

I've worked in the past while raising my daughter, but all of those jobs were flexible. Even when I was a program manager at a non-profit, I pretty much made my own hours and if I had to work from home due to a sick child, I could. But now that I'm working in the field of O and M, I'm dealing with a whole new set of expectations and deadlines. School districts and the Department of Rehabilitation have strict regulations and both are working on shoe-string budgets. Everyone needs it done NOW, and heaven forbid if I miss a day due to illness or child care problems. I feel stretched to my limits, physically and mentally. And when I go home after working all day, I have a needy, still dependent Queen Teen to feed, bathe, spend time with and then send to bed.

That's the heart of the problem. Queen Teen is 15 but is developmentally about 11. Physically she requires a lot of help and still relies on me to provide the majority of her security and emotional needs. I rarely have down time; when I'm not working, I'm caring for a severely disabled child who requires 24 hour care. Rick is fabulous and does his best, but I am the center of Queen Teen's world, and will probably be for many more years.

It's frustrating because I want to learn more and work more and expand my horizons and perhaps even get my PHD (someone can kick me now and remind me how stressed out I am and NO I do not need any more years of school!). I want a steady income, health insurance, a 401K and retirement, all things I have never had (I'm 43! I should have some kind of savings for when I'm 70!). To get those things I need to work full time.

I can not work full time. Not now, anyway. Instead of looking for full time jobs, I'm considering being an independent contractor so I can go back to making my own schedule and having more control over my time. I need the flexibility to give my daughter the care she still needs from me. I have to be full time mommy a little while longer.

But I'd still like to know, how the hell do you moms with full time jobs do it!?

Holy Cow! What happened to October?

Is it really the 20th already? Last time I looked, it was October 9th. Since then I've been focused on my internship and my Master's Exam, studying like a fiend when I wasn't teaching visually impaired people, driving too many hours, or keeping up with Queen Teen. Plus, there was a Book Expo for my press in the middle of all that, and a book reading with two of my authors (check out my press blog Medusa's Muse for more on those events). So much happening, so much busy-ness, so much learning and growing and exploring that I'm feeling breathless. Really. I need to sit down and rest for a few days.

But no. No rest for the wicked, or crazy in my case. Although I did find a glimmer of sanity in all that chaos. Since my internship is going to take longer than anticipated and I won't graduate this semester, I postponed my Master's exam until Spring. Suddenly a huge weight disappeared from my chest, plus I had time to tackle that gigantic mountain of laundry in the hall, half blocking my bedroom door.

Alas, there was one casualty this month.

My house plants may never be the same.

In other non-Burning Man news

I officially started my internship last week at the Earl Baum Center in Santa Rosa, and though I can't go into details about clients, I can say that I'm learning a lot in a very short period of time. My master teacher is an alumni of the SFSU O and M program, and had all the same teachers and classes I did. She too survived crossing 19th Avenue under blindfold, and now here she is working with clients, helping them with daily living skills, cane skills and street crossing. Gives me hope that soon I'll too have a case-load of students and my office in my car.

It's been challenging though. I'm driving three to four hours a day, from my home and then to the various client's homes throughout Sonoma County. The schedule can be hectic and some days we skip lunch trying to get to everyone. My master teacher tries hard to accommodate my needs, but a lot of the schedule is driven by client availability and location, so there's only so much she can do. I'm beginning to realize just how hard it's going to be juggling Queen Teen's continuing needs and a full time job. Will I be able to pull this off? It's looking more like I'll need to work part time for a while, with one day a week devoted to Queen Teen. How do other parents work and care for a child with disabilities? Maybe I'm just a wimp.

At the same time, I'm studying for my Master's exam in October, and my Certification exam in January. I should know all about Orientation and Mobility, right? Then why does it feel like I've forgotten every term every taught to me. Eye anatomy; common eye-conditions; the difference between a landmark and a clue; the necessary parts of a functional assessment; what color tint of shades to use for Macular Degeneration. All that info is in my brain somewhere, but I'm having to re-read much of the readings from my classes to make sense out of it.

But when I work with a client, the info appears. Instinctively I know how to teach orientation skills to a client. I may not remember all of the visual effects caused by Diabetic Retinopathy, but I do know how to teach, and I figure the details of what I learned in class will coalesce into retrievable, logical sense in my brain. Just takes a little time, and study.

Queen Teen is thrilled that I'm home evry night for dinner now. No more staying in San Fran far away from her. But I miss my weekly trips to the City by the Bay, and miss seeing my friends regularly. The City charges my batteries, so to speak. I need to plan some trips for fun.

Well, gotta get back to work. My master teacher will be here soon and then we're meeting a client. Thanks for hanging in there while I wrote about Burning Man (which everyone should go to at least once in their life).

Sanity?

I started my internship two weeks early. My master teacher contacted me and asked if I could observe an assessment of a new student that she thinks I may be working with once I start. "It would be good for you to see her from the beginning." Hell yeah! Not only was I eager to begin, but I'd just found out that due to the university not being able to use student TA's in their O and M classes anymore (thanks to some new accreditation regulations), I'd just lost 20 hours a month of intern hours and it will be a miracle if I finish my internship on time.

Rick rearranged his schedule to accommodate this change and I rushed off to Petaluma to meet my master teacher and my possible first student. I can't go into specifics, but I will say that despite my driving 150 miles in 108 degree temperature with a barely working AC, it was a great day. Finally seeing what I'd learned being used by a professional, experienced, O and M instructor was fascinating. It was so great, I volunteered to come back thursday, friday and the following monday.

But when thursday rolled around, reality set in. I am not prepared to start my internship at all. Rick was stressing, trying to support me by getting all his work done in time to meet Queen Teen's school bus, and I was trying to shove my giant to-do list into one day, something that proved impossible. I haven't even set up regular after school child care yet! What the hell was I thinking?

I observed my teacher again on thursday, then explained that I was wrong about starting so early. She understood completely and told me not to worry. When I explained how I'd lost so many intern hours and was worried about not graduating on time, she was shocked. But she agreed that I shouldn't put my family and myself through so much stress to try and make up hours before any of us are ready.

Is this a glimmer of sanity? Am I really learning to pace myself and make choices that support my mental health, rather than living my life like some kind of marathon with a finish line in sight?

I'm still worried about my internship hours and really angry about it. Losing 20 hours a month is going to be impossible to make up! Oh well...  just gotta keep breathing, stay sane, and keep moving forward.

Um, excuse me... could I have my vacation now please?

I must have been crazy to think I would actually get some time to lounge on the deck in my underwear and read books this summer. Since school ended two weeks ago, I've been racing the clock every day, playing catch-up with the pile of work that's gathered since the first day of Spring semester (back in January). There are forms from various agencies needing to be filled out, doctor's appointments to drag Queen Teen to, book marketing and book orders, submissions to the press needing to be read, mending, housework, inventory, and the end of the business tax season (hello sales tax!),  all joining forces in one colossal mountain of work, demanding attention now. There will be no lounging in our underwear reading books; there will be tasks to complete! Many, many, many, many, many, many, many tasks to complete, and all before the end of the month.

Starting with : your car! 

If I can't keep up with the housework inside the house, do you really think I'd manage to keep my car clean? Not likely. But when my husband pulled half a burger from under my car seat and asked, "How long has this been here?",  I knew the car had surpassed filth. That first Monday after school ended, I cleaned my car from top to bottom, vacuuming upholstery, scrubbing spilled soda out of the cup holder, wiping six months of dust off the console, picking something sticky off the steering wheel (chocolate?)... I won't tell you what other things I found buried under the back seat (things I can't blame on the child, unfortunately). And while doing all this scrubbing, I discovered a universal truth: dog hair is forever. No amount of scrubbing or vacuuming with an industrial Shop-Vac can remove dog hair from the interior of a mini-van. Can-not-be-done. But at least all signs of graduate school filth have been removed from my car.

The next day, we all went to Stanford for Queen Teen's MRI. We made tuesday the fun day, wandering around the Stanford mall and then exploring downtown Palo Alto, which is lovely. Spending the night in a motel, we got up extra early to haul Queen Teen kicking and screaming to the 8:00 am appointment at Lucille Packard. She had to have general anesthesia for the procedure, but you'd think we were asking her to eat that month old burger I found in my car. Rick had to drag her out of the car and into the hospital, and then when the nurse tried to get her to drink the medicine that would help her relax, she started screaming and kicking. One Nurse got so upset she left the room. I can only imagine what she must be saying in the break room. At one point in the battle, Queen Teen managed to break free from Rick's powerful arms, only to be capture by me and then forced to drink that yucky medicine with her head held back and the nurse squirting it down her throat with a syringe. I don't know if the medicine started to work, or she just crashed from the adrenaline, but she looked at me with angry eyes and said, "Let's just get this over with." Then she fell asleep.

Times like those make me wonder if all these tests are really worth the trauma they generate.

Now we're back home. Queen Teen seems to have recovered from the torture of the hospital MRI. She and I are hiding from the 100 degree temperature outside, and fighting epic boredom. The AC in my van died, so we're trapped when it gets over 90. Queen Teen can't tolerate the heat, so we watch movies, color, play games, and try not to drive each other too crazy. I dash around from task to task, constantly interrupted by "Mom...."  There's another reason I was crazy to think I'd be able to do any lounging this summer: Queen Teen is out of school, too. There isn't a mom on the planet who gets to relax when the kids are out for summer.

Maybe next month?

Farewell school

Farewell San Francisco State

and Burk Hall

Farewell room 149, where all of my classes save one were. 

 

And farewell to the long hallway where I first learned to travel under blindfold. The echoes were deafening.

Farewell stairs

                                                 



and stairs (we spent HOURS on these, learning to go up and down with our blindfolds and canes)

And farewell to some of my favorite things on campus, like the bird bath in the redwood grove, which is my favorite place to relax on campus.  Cheerio, birds.

 Farewell to the little log house someone in the art department made and then set under a tree in that grove (makes me think of the little houses I used to build when I was a child for the fairies)

Farewell Japanese fountain. The sound of that rushing water was so beautiful

And farewell to the best Latte on campus (seriously. not the best latte in the City, but definitely the best at SFSU.

                                   



















Yes, I know, I'm not finished with school yet, but I am finished with my classes, which means my trips to SFSU will be infrequent. No more weekly treks to San Fran for my three hour classes with seven hours of homework, or my all day Saturday class. Now comes my internship, which is a whole new challenge. I think I'm ready.

A 4.0

This last class is a pain-in-the-ass. Really. I'm sure it's valuable information and I might use it some day (doubt it), and if I had taken this course a year ago I would be more into it. But this is the last class for my Master's degree and I have senior-itus so bad even the the lull of a good night's sleep away from home barely makes up for my utter boredom with school. It's only five weeks: I should be able to focus and do more homework for only five more weeks... right? Come on, Terena, you can do it. You can write another paper and read another chapter and retain a little bit of what you learn. This is it! No more classes after this one. Don't give up now.

And then the one motivating thought that could cut through the haze of school fatigue trumpeted loudly in my brain: don't mess up your 4.0 in the last class you have to take.

Right now, I have a 4.0. I usually don't care about that, I mean really, are any potential employers going to check my GPA? I doubt it. So who cares, right? But for some bizarre reason that I can't fathom, I suddenly care a great deal about maintaining my 4.0 in grad school. I started caring when I decided to walk in the graduation ceremony next June. I didn't walk for my BA. The school sent my diploma in the mail. This time, I want to wear a gown and that silly square hat with the tassel and walk with my classmates up to the stage to get my diploma in front of my family and a few thousand strangers. And if I have a 4.0, I get some kind of acknowledgment for that, like a sticker or a gold chord on my gown.

Again, I have to wonder why this is suddenly so important to me. A sticker? I'm going to bust my ass in this final class for a sticker?

Yes. Yes I am.

One last class at SF State

I'm sitting in the student union on the San Francisco Sate University campus, sipping a lukewarm Latte and watching other students wander by on their way to classes. It's summer, so the food court is quiet; you can actually find a table. You can walk through the bookstore without squeezing past hundreds of students fighting for the last few used copies of the text book they need. The mood of the university is laid back and slower then during the Fall and Spring. If you're here taking a class over the summer, you're either very dedicated to your major, or are very close to graduating.

I'm very close to graduating. After I take this one class, I'm finished with all of my course work for my Master's degree. I'll just have my internships in the Fall,  plus a Master's exam. No more sitting in a classroom absorbing information; it's almost time to put all that info to work.

The class I'm taking teaches how to write a research proposal, but since I don't have to do a research project for my degree, it feels like a massive waste of time and money. It's a 15 week class crammed into a 5 week summer session. 5 weeks is better than 15, and I'll do my best not to give in to the school burnout I feel. I might actually learn something useful, and I get to spend three days in San Fran again, sleeping in, exploring my favorite city, seeing friends.... I mean studying every single moment because I'm far too busy to have any fun. And besides, after all those weekend classes learning to cross streets under blindfold, this one research class is going to feel like a leisurely stroll through the Japanese Tea Garden while sipping soothing Jasmine tea.

The hardest part of all this is my family. Being gone for three straight days has created a lot of tension again. Queen Teen is PISSED, and is taking out all her anger on Rick. Rick is tired and has been working too much, so really doesn't have the patience to deal with angry-teen. I feel guilty that I'm here in a quiet room (I'm staying at a friend's house while she's in New York. So nice, all this solitude.) able to to hear myself think again. But I'm trying to enjoy this time and not let guilt ruin it. This is the last of my "escapes." Once I'm done with my classes, it will be very, very, very, very, very, very, hard for me to run away from home any more.

So here I sit, sipping my latte, staring out the window and writing in my blog, when I should be working on the first draft of section one of my research proposal.

Wonderful

         *********************************************************************

Update on Queen Teen's graduation

Queen Teen didn't make it to the actual ceremony with her classmates. It was just too hard on her. Instead we had a party at our house and a small ceremony of our own where we presented her with her Principal's List award. Several of her teachers were there, as well as my dad, mom, brother, sis-in-law, niece and nephew and my good friend Jody. Queen Teen was so excited and looked gorgeous in her new dress. Here's a pic. I'll post more soon.

Why I have had zero time to write

First of all, I launched a new book this month, an anthology of true, transformative punk rock tales, called Punk Rock Saved My Ass.

Plus, it's the end of the Spring semester. Recently, we went to Guide Dogs for the Blind and learned to travel with a Dog Guide.

This is Toledo, one of the greatest dogs I've ever met. He and I had a blast traveling together, and when we were done, we took some time to play, which included face licking (he licked me. I'm not fond of licking dog hair).

And then there is Queen Teen, who will be graduating Jr High this June and will soon be a High School student. Oh my...

It has been a fast paced, overwhelming, fascinating, thrilling, and enriching Spring. But I'm glad the semester is almost over. I miss writing. Once classes end, I'm looking forward to finishing my play and blogging again. I have a lot to write about, and I'm looking forward to reading your blogs.

Until then, enjoy.

When life and school crash together in a painful sort of way

We got some bad news at Stanford last week about Queen Teen's prognosis. Her hearing has deteriorated to the point where even her hearing aids aren't much help, and the audiograms over the past two years show a steady decline overall. After her audiology appointment we saw the orthopedist to take a look at her knees and he ruled against bracing. I wish I could say it was because her knees are fine and she doesn't need braces, but the reality is that bracing won't help so why put her through the trauma? Her ataxia has worsened, and odds are she won't be walking in two years anyway, so there's no point in forcing her to wear braces. She left the appointment happy that the doctor agreed she didn't need to wear braces ("I told you!"). She didn't hear the whole conversation. I swallowed my tears, put on a smile, drove us the three hours home, then went out on the back deck with a big bottle of wine and drank more than half in one sitting. Sometimes you just have to get drunk.

There was no time to grieve. I had school and papers and midterms and a book to publish, meetings with service providers and Queen Teen's teacher. By Friday I was still sad, but ready for class, and while I drove to San Francisco I thought about Queen Teen's need for alternative communication and probably a power chair. I needed to lift weights and learn ASL even faster than I'd anticipated. It would be okay. We'd get through it somehow, just the way we always do: with love, faith in each other, and a lot of gallows humor.

The weekend's classes were focused on working with people with multiple disabilities; people who use canes and walkers and wheelchairs. My teacher began discussing the process that families go through when a child's disability requires a power chair. It's hard to watch your child go from walking to needing a chair. Parents grieve, and children grieve for the freedom they lost. There's also a lot of anger...

Are you frickin kidding me? This week, of all weeks, is the week we discuss children with degenerative conditions and how they need to be able to use a chair? I wanted to spring up and run from the room, but I didn't want to create a spectacle. Instead I focused on breathing, trying not to cry, trying not to show how unbelievably impossible this situation was. Was this some kind of cosmic joke? Was the universe or God or whoever you want to believe in out to get me? The reason my whole world was unraveling was the class topic? Then I felt the edge of hysteria, like I would start laughing so loudly I would scare everyone, right before falling on the floor and disappearing. It was just too surreal and painfully ridiculous.

I didn't fall apart. I got through the rest of the day and made it back to the security of my home in one piece. But I'm dreading next week's class. Why? Because the topic is Deaf-Blindness.

Yeah, I kind of already know that one too.

The chaotic roar of 19th Avenue

(image from San Francisco Sentinel)

After my triumph crossing 22nd street, I immediately had to prepare myself for the next street crossing challenge: 19th Avenue.  19th Avenue in San Francisco is a major, six lane artery that runs North-South along the West side of town, through Golden Gate park and along the Sunset District. It is the path of Hwy 1 as it cuts through The City, so there are a lot of cars on that road. Thousands of vehicles, all day and all night. And somehow, I had to get my blindfolded self across that crazy road.

But first, the class learned to walk beside 19th Avenue. We met at Rivera and 19th and took turns crossing Rivera, trying to sort out the cacophony of trucks and cars and buses that fly by at 40 mph. My class partner went first, so I practiced teaching. I was amazed once again by how easily he could line himself up for a straight line of travel listening to the parallel traffic. Then it was my turn to be the student. I put on my blindfold and stood at the corner of Taraval and 19th, concentrating hard to locate the sound cue I need to cross safely. As usual, the sound swirled and echoed all around me. I heard the Muni train clatter past, but it sounded like it was on top of me. A motorcycle roared by and I jumped. I flagged my class partner and said I couldn't do it, so he guided me across. On the other side of the street I traveled down the sidewalk along 19th Ave, but still felt dizzy with the sound. Half a block later, after jumping every time a loud car went by, I pulled off my blindfold and switched to the low vision simulator.

Even with a little vision, the noise was awful. My partner encouraged me to try crossing the last street with my blindfold, and I agreed. I knew I had to get across Rivera somehow, or I'd never make it across 19th. I took a deep breath, listened hard, trusted that my partner would keep me safe, and crossed Rivera. By the time I made it across the street, my heart was pounding and I wanted to cry, but I breathed deeply and forced myself to stay calm.

One thing my partner and I were able to verify is that I am indeed hearing the echoes of traffic. Because the traffic noise sounded like it was on my right (where the road was) and left (where the buildings were), it felt like I was walking smack down the middle of 19th Avenue (probably shouldn't use the word "smack" in that sentence).  Logically, I knew I wasn't, so I didn't panic, but the sensory overload was exhausting. I had to concentrate with all my might just to walk a straight line.

How was I going to cross 19th Avenue if I couldn't even walk along it?

And there was much rejoicing when I made it across the street!

(image from Wikimedia Commons)

I thought it would never happen. After weeks of standing on street corners with my eyes closed, listening to the sounds of traffic stopping and going at intersections, feeling the sound curve around my head and crash against buildings, I finally walked across an intersection under blindfold.

Un-frickin-believable.

My class met at Guerrero and 22nd in San Francisco's Mission district for our first street crossing lesson at a traffic controlled intersection. I kept both my blindfold and my low vision simulators (glasses covered in cheesecloth) in my pocket, ready for anything. My class partner and I went to our assigned intersection and practiced listening to the traffic under blindfold until we could determine the "now" moment. The light would change and the traffic on Guerrero would surge, creating a distinct roar of cars in motion. After taking a moment to listen for right turners and red light runners, we would step forward to cross the street, our cane arcing back and forth as we attempted to keep a straight line of travel to the destination corner. My partner had no trouble hearing the different sounds cars make as they travel forward through the intersection or turn in front of him. He has an incredible ability to differentiate sound and correct his own alignment by mere millimeters.

I am not so lucky.

When it was my turn to be the student and his to teach me, I covered my eyes with the blindfold and was immediately drowned in a roar of noise. Engine sounds swirled around me once again and I could only hear the right turners when they'd already passed me and traveled several car lengths down the street. How would I ever make it across the road safely?

I was determined, though, and I knew my class partner wouldn't let me get run over. And I realized that the traffic signals helped me determine the right time to cross. Unlike stop signs, the traffic flow had a definite pattern. With a little logic I could easily tell which direction traffic was flowing. I needed to pinpoint when my near parallel traffic traveled through the intersection, so I only had to sort out specifically how that group of cars sounded when the light changed. I still couldn't hear if someone was turning right, but again, I knew my class partner would grab me if a car was turning in front of me. Plus our instructor was observing and giving us both feedback. Between the two of them, I wouldn't die.

Here we go, I thought. I took a deep breath, listened for my cue, and started across the street. The sound roared around me as usual, but I knew logically it was moving forward because the light had changed to let traffic flow down Guerrero. I crossed 23rd street as fast as I could, my cane tapping back and forth, then swinging side to side as I found the curb, cleared, and stepped out of the street.

I did it!

Both my partner and our teacher cheered. I was grinning so big my cheeks pressed against my blindfold. I did it. I really did it.

I did it once more with the traffic heading toward me on my near parallel. This was actually easier for me to hear because the roar was coming at me instead of behind me, except that I had to wait a while when there were loud motorcycles blocking any other sound. I like motorcycles, but while waiting to cross the street I really wished every Harley in town would get their frickin muffler fixed!

By the end of the day, I was exhausted, my brain and my senses on overload. But I also felt very proud of myself. I was able to keep my anxiety low and stay focused on the sound cues I needed. And my cane skills didn't fall apart.

Wow. Maybe I'll be able to cross a busy stop-sign controlled intersection someday. But first, I have to cross 19th Avenue: all six lanes of traffic crammed, people-get-hit-by cars-traveling-at-40-miles-per-hour-weekly, 19th Avenue. That's what our class will be doing next week.

oh boy...