How do you explain Baltimore to a child?

It was one of the those snippets of history that my 9 year old caught sight of on the news.  The images of burning cars, a CVS on fire, people gathering in rowdy crowds so the fire trucks couldn’t do their jobs and watching people throw bricks and rocks at the police officers really impacted all of us.  My son, a cop’s child, curled up in my lap and watched the mayhem.

Ike:  Why are they acting so mean?

Me: Honey, this is just an example of groups of people acting foolishly.

Ike: What does that say on the screen?

Me: Rocks and bricks are thrown at cops in protest.  

Ike: What is a protest?

Me:  Let me see if I can explain…. the law says you can gather together in a peaceful way and protest when you don’t agree with something.  For instance, if your school said NO MORE RECESS for any kid that wears braces, glasses or has special needs, you would be mad right?  (We went through why he would hate that idea) If all the students and parents banned together and surrounded the playground chanting “We want recess for all.”  That is an example of a peaceful demonstration. The news might cover it and the school would have to consider changing their minds the longer parents and kids stood out there.  It gets attention.

Ike: Was this (pointing to the tv) because of something important?

Me:  Yes, a man was killed when he was arrested.  We don’t know exactly what happened but it sounds like the officers made a big mistake in the way they handled his arrest.  The young man had a criminal record but he didn’t deserve to die like that.

Ike: I don’t get it. Is this a protest?

Me: No this is a riot.  People try to mix those words up but it is different.  Remember I gave you the recess example?  Well what if they didn’t just assemble peacefully? What if someone chose to throw bricks at your principal’s car window or through the library windows, beat up one of your teachers because she asked them to stop and then broke in and stole all the books from your library?  Or maybe someone really stupid threw a fire bomb into the cafeteria? Would that help the principals or teachers decide to give back recess?  No, they would call the police, fire department, etc.  The people that did those things only made it worse and would need to go to jail.

Ike: My principal wouldn’t put up with that mess. They would all get ISS or even worse, AEP!  (It struck me as funny that he knew what those consequences meant:)

Me: Sometimes leaders of the community don’t really know what to do or can’t control the people in the crowds.  That is why the police are called in and if it doesn’t settle down, they call the National Guard in too.

Ike: But aren’t these people mad at the police?  This is confusing.  Martin Luther King Jr. protested and didn’t throw bricks.  (I was impressed he knew about this!)

Me:  No. He did it correctly.  He knew violence only made all the sides mad.  

Ike:  I don’t want them to hurt police officers.  There are some good people there right?

Me:  Lots of protestors are good.  They are doing it to make a change. But many times criminals pretend to be mad about something and just use it as an excuse to break stuff and make a mess.

Ike:  There will be more riots?

Me:  Sadly, until Jesus comes there will be lots of hatred going around.  Love always wins.  Remember that.  If you love, you will win in the end. 

Ike looked very sad.  He just curled up in my lap and watched more chaos. I finally turned off the news.  It was a terrible lesson for him.  I wish we all saw the world through a nine year old’s eyes. Maybe we would see a lot more peace and a lot less hate.  

Let the Bridges Burn

I have been on the other side of the table-ARDS, special ed meetings, etc as a teacher.  I didn't realize how hard it was as a parent on "that side of the table".  So let me start by apologizing as a teacher if ever did anything to complicate the VERY hard process of getting the best education for a special needs child.  This is new territory for me, meaning not being the teacher and being the parent of a student with lots of needs. I am caught on a fence about the teacher vs. parent thing.  On one side, I KNOW there are not enough hours in the day to give the kind of education Ikester needs in a traditional classroom setting. However, he needs individualized instruction. And he is MY kid.  So I will bulldoze my way through the systems as his advocate, even if it ticks off my closest teacher friends. He is worth it.  This might mean friendships, bridges that I don't want to burn and being on the "list" (you know the one-that "difficult parent list") but if he can read at the end of it, then so be it.  Let the bridges burn.  I will strike the match.

My youngest can put anything together, has a mind for science, puzzles and is quite musical but he has many learning issues. Ikester has learning disabilities in language arts, reading, and math.  Homework is a nightmare.  School is a struggle. Period.  Although he can read and is very bright, he spends so much time decoding that he doesn't have much comprehension and this bleeds into math and writing.  STAAR test is not even on his radar.  And to set the record straight, it is NOT on mine.  (As I have told many a student, testing is a TINY part of a fraction of your life.  There are so many more important things to worry about.)

 He needs a special kind of instructor every year. (Mrs. M.W...ohhhh God broke the mold with her!  I don't know if he will ever encounter such a match!!! But wow-so thankful for her!) We can't afford tutors or private school.  Because of my cancer, I can't homeschool him. Public school will probably fail him in many ways.

Things most kids take for granted, he has to work at three times harder to master or even slide by.  Reading math word problems, for instance, are horrible. By the time he has decoded the mini-paragraph, he has long since forgotten why or what it is asking him to do.  Thus, math scores plummet.  Writing is another whirlwind of confusion. He has great ideas but can not transfer them onto paper.  A simple sentence halts him in his tracks.  As a reading and writing teacher, this frustrates me to no end.  The three kids before him read with such ease and at such early ages.  On the other hand, he gets Biblical truths deeper than most.  I guess when you look at what affects your eternity, I would rather him understand the Bible than the blasted STAAR test.

It breaks my heart to see him realize that he is different. That is probably the hardest part of all of this.  When he asks if he is a "special needs student", I tell him no.  I say, "Some of the most brilliant minds in history had to take a different route to learning.  That is you.  Just taking a different route."  Since he understands maps, this makes sense to him.  Thank goodness because maps don't make sense to me.

While I loved teaching, there are HUGE flaws in the special ed system as well as the state when it comes to learning.  TEKS (objectives written by the state) are ridiculous and out of touch with the average student, common sense has been tossed out of the window in regards to developmental appropriateness, PE time and recess time stripped away, technical classes are deleted and the ones that suffer are this generation of learners. It is time to get fired up about all children's education, not just the elite learners.

                                            I say let the bridges burn.

Where is my blog?

I have a lot of people who ask me, "Why don't you blog anymore?"  Well, the answer to that is I used to get a lot of feedback on my articles/entries but then the format changed on this blog site.  It made it harder for people to comment.  I also got some private messages both written and verbal that maybe I should not be so serious.  I have to admit, this last one shut me down for several months. Basically, after a blog entry, if I heard anything, it was a "Can you please not talk about......" or "focus on all the good things in your life."  

So here is my response.  I am going to write about whatever I want.  I hope you read it.  I hope you comment.  A lot. I hope you make my thoughts go viral.  (Tweet it, share it, quack it....I love that!)That is a scary thought.

But if you do not want to...there are thousands of fluffy blogs with no real meaning or purpose out there.  Pick one. It will make you feel better.  I write real topics and I try to tell the real truth behind issues I know something about.  Some of my entries are funny or sarcastic. But some are angry.  Because let's face it, life may throw you roses but with roses come thorns.

No more censoring.  No more tiptoeing around hyper-sensitive people. No more dancing around what I believe.  No more keeping Jesus out of the conversation because it might offend someone.  If you ask me a question, I will try to answer it.

Love,

CeCe

Ike’s Field Trip-Coolest Place on the Planet.  

A world according to an 8 year old:) (Creative wording by mom but snippets of quotes from Ike himself!)

My mom took me on a field trip to Sweet Rides. Sweet Rides takes old cars and makes them look new. (Restores them) It is better than the zoo. 

One mechanic did just body work and he was working on several cars. I liked the way he sanded the pieces by hand. He showed me a maroon 1970 Chevy Pickup (I think it was a C10 Stepside) and a  Trans Am  and a Camaro.  But they were just fixing and priming those.  We didn’t see the color of the two last cars. My Mom said she had a 73 Stepside Chevy that she wishes she still had for me. She admitted that she loved to drive her high school friend’s Trans Am. My mom might be cool after all.

Some of the cars that were waiting to be painted had loose parts all over the inside of the car. it looked a lot like my computer. Wires, pieces of metal… so awesome.

The coolest part was the 57 Chevy Bel Air that they had in pieces. The bottom part was in the paint room and they were painting it black.  All parts have to be primed with gray paint before it is painted with color. The body was painted bright blue and was in pieces.  They are putting it together on Monday for the Thanksgiving car show. 

My favorite time of the field trip was the car being painted in the paint room and meeting all the mechanics.  They encouraged me to use my skills to become a mechanic after I finish school.  One of them even invited me to see the Bel Air at the Houston George R. Brown Convention Center Thanksgiving weekend. I am going to start working on my Dad now to get him to take me.  Who cares about turkey when you can look at a Camaro or a Bel Air?  

20+ Things A Cancer Kid Knows By Heart-spin off Huffington Post

20 + Things a Cancer Kid Knows By Heart

by CeCe Benningfield

If my kids could write about my cancer, this is most likely what they would say or things I have heard them say. This is in response to the Huffington Post’s 20 Things A Mom Knows about Cancer. I figured I would flip it. 

•     It is the most earth shattering thing to be told that your Mom has cancer.
• Moms of any age can get cancer.  Even young ones.
• Moms can have a total meltdown in the kitchen and still make birthday cupcakes for your soccer team while having cancer.
• She will puke in a toilet, swallow a mountain of anti-nausea meds and still go to baseball practice with cancer.
• Moms can schedule your dentist appointment, write a novel and make a two page to-do list, all while toting an IV pole with chemo.
• Treatment straight up sucks. Even Moms feel like this.
• You can tell her side effects are bad when she can’t climb the stairs to do five kids worth of laundry.
•     We learn to do our own laundry. 
•     You hate it when you are sick because you know you are putting your Mom at risk. But who can control the flu?  And who can tell your Mom to not sit by your bed with Sprite and crackers and kiss your fevered head?  I’d like to see someone try. 
• Moms can do chemo and then sit through a double hitter in the Texas heat at the baseball fields.
• We don’t go in Mom’s bathroom. She says it is danger zone. Just don’t.
• Sleeping upstairs with your sick parent downstairs teaches you interesting life skills, like waking up on your own to catch the 6 a.m bus, make your own lunch and email your own teacher if need be.
•   It super annoying when people call your mom a hero.  She was my hero before she got cancer.  Cancer doesn’t make you a hero.  It makes you sick. 
•   Some Moms can have the opposite reactions to medications... like for instance, something that makes an adult sleepy might make them get up and clean the house at 2 a.m. Sometimes the meds make them sleep even when they are trying to hear about your day.

•     Scan days are always stressful.  Waiting for the doctor to read them makes your Mom cry no matter what the news. Going to school while you know your Mom is getting results is even harder.
• You realize nothing is as important anymore as getting your Mom well.  How will Dad ever do what she does?
• You'll never forget the first time you see your Mom lose her pretty long hair or when she throws all of her hairbrushes away. 
• We get cancer jokes. Mom yells at the shampoo commercials. No one else would think that was funny but we do.  If she doesn’t get her ice cream at night, she will threaten…”Don’t make me throw the cancer card down.”  We all laugh and give her the ice cream.
• You learn creative terms to try to explain chemo to younger siblings. “Ninja meds” make mom really tired. No, she can’t read to you at night. Oh wait…here she comes. 
• Kids get a crash course in oncology. You learn the stages of cancer and what they mean. Life really sucks when you hear the number four.
•     You brace yourself for the biology assignments when they go into depth about how cancer works.  I just want to throw something at the teacher. Writing essays or journal entries equally suck-“Express your biggest fear” or “tell about a time when you overcame adversity” . No, thanks.  Rather not.
•   Chemo looks different.  Kids know that. It can change forms. Mom has done four different kinds.  We have nicknames for all of them. The Red Devil, the Bad Crap, the Light Stuff, Ninja meds, and the pills. No chemo is the same. No cancer is the same.
•   You learn to look for the “look” between your parents.  It is the look that tells you if something has changed.  A bad scan, a different med, more surgery.  No one else notices.
•   Cancer makes you grow up really fast. People don’t realize you are juggling school, sports, church, friends and social pressures and a sick Mom.  They forget. You don’t.
•   Statistics don't mean a dang thing when it comes to your Mom. God has the last say. Tomorrow is never promised. Your Mom is your steady hand but Jesus is the Rock.

Happy Birthday Sharkbait (Sherry)

Sometimes you have no idea that you NEED a blessing into it busts into your house like a whirlwind.  There are expected blessings and prayed for blessings, but then there are ones you have no idea you are getting. Sixteen years ago today, a blond haired baby girl was born far away from me. I don’t know if she wailed in her first breaths. Maybe she yawned, opened those big blues and looked around only to fall back asleep.  

On her first day of life, I was probably getting my oldest off to school and getting ready for teaching 7th grade.  I wasn’t aware that God was preparing me for a blessing.  It took almost twelve years for me to meet her. She walked into my classroom, head ducked down and barely whispered her name. I recognized the platinum blond hair from her older brother, a former student. She walked in and out of my class for months. I never knew who she would be. 

I never knew God ushered my daughter into my classroom.  Less than two years later, circumstances like a slow moving hurricane washed over us and God whispered to me that she was going to be our daughter even above our storm.  Talk about the dark horse surprise of the decade.  Sometimes adoption works like that. Adoption doesn’t work with a plan-most of the time there is no explanation of how you lose your heart to a stranger.

I was so surprised when not only did she melt into our family without much effort but then stole our hearts just as easily as the four children before her.  

I love the spontaneous bursts of laughter, your Wolverine costume, plots to cream people with cupcakes, letting a rabbit loose in a brother’s bedroom, luring sharks at the beach, skimming over waves and busting your rear end in the sand, or my girl coming out of the kitchen wearing soccer shorts and cowboy boots. I love my camo-wearing, truck driving, goat dragging, patient little girl who makes us smile and shake our heads. 

Happy 16th Birthday Sharkbait. We love you.  You have blessed me.  You have blessed our family.  I love you so much!

School Is COMING!!

I am enjoying my long vacation on the surf and sand. But let’s talk about summer-honestly. Don’t slap your hands to your cheeks in horror over my down and dirty kind of entry. Those of you that know me well, know I practicing humor and not malice!

I love the pool, beach, vacation, less running, but I crave structure. I am secretly envious of my friends that create super structure to summer days. You know the organized souls that still have nap time, reading time, bath times and bedtimes. (I won’t mention any names. You know who you are and are probably smiling like the Mad Hatter right now.)  The most structured thing I do in the summer is take up electronics at 10 pm. and even then it isn’t straight up “10” every night. 

I would love to blame this laziness on cancer, but alas, I cannot. Long before cancer, I fell into the summertime doldrums. I would also love to blame Joe, since he is gone for the summer, but let’s face it I would be like this even if he was home.

Summer habits that start to grate on my ever-loving nerve….

1. the longer and L-O-N-G-E-R nights where kids saunter downstairs or appear in my room like pop goes the weasel at midnight sometimes. Goodness…if you turn on the t.v. or open your computer-they march in. It is what I call the magnet. Too bad that doesn’t happen when I open the dishwasher.
2. the way their heads are bowed over the electronics. I would like to take up the iPhone, iPod, and cell phone and replace it with a book. Wait, that is a great idea!  
3. the way they kind of shrug when I say “bedtime now”. Shrug away-those 6 am buses are going to be a rude awakening next week!  Yes, I make my kids ride the bus and I am still a good parent. 

Be alert, O’ Young Ones. School is exactly 6 days away. I don’t get emotional when my kids start school. (I am anxious for teachers and smooth schedules but them GOING…I have NO problem with!)  I do this really awesome-Tom Cruise-Risky Business-type of dance across the hard wood floors when the last bus pulls away. Doing this dance is completely appropriate when you have five kids and your husband is out of state ALL SUMMER. Even when he is not gone all summer-still OK. Not feeling guilty about finding joy in a quiet house. I find joy in a busy house too. Just a different kind of joy. 

It is really a healthy thing to dance because they are flying on their own. Start your music…let the dancing begin!  WHOOOHOOOO. School is almost here!