Beth’s Books: Boob Edition

As a voracious reader, finding the right books was an important part of my breast cancer journey. I’m sharing my recommendations in case anyone else can benefit from finding the right books.

Let’s begin with my favorite:

Ta-ta: A Farewell Story

A zine by Susannah Hainley

This was purchased for me by a darling employee, and it meant so much. The illustrations are great and I read it many times over. Hainley asked the critical question I had been pondering since my diagnosis and considering my best path choice forward – What do my breasts mean to me? Are they important enough to keep?

In the end, Hainley and I chose different surgical paths, but much of her journey rang true to me…drains, in particular… “the worst and grossest part of the recovery so far.” “I feel like a cyborg inside-out cow person.” Very accurate!

Another favorite:

About Betty’s Boob 

A graphic novel by Vero Cazot and Julie Rocheleau

Only a book so charming, so unexpected, could make me laugh and cry (at the same time) so loudly the people around me had to look over my shoulder at what I was reading. 

Recommended:

Let Me Get This Off My Chest by Margaret Lesh

Darkly funny, like having coffee with a friend who belongs to the club no one wants to join.

Now What? A Patient’s Guide to Recovery After Mastectomy 

By Amy Curran Baker with Marybeth Curran Brown and Linda Curran

Like a textbook for mastectomies! From making the choice to aftercare and beyond. A really helpful resource!

Some books were so awful their title alone would make me cry and I felt that I had to hide it from my child’s view – titles along the lines of Helping Your Children Survive Your Cancer. They had decent tips occansionally, but they were not any I’d like to recommend. 

I hope that this list of books has been helpful to those on a similar journey. Reading about the experiences of others provided comfort, validation, and a sense of community to me. If you are on this journey, remember, you are not alone. There are countless resources available to support you during this time.

While these books have been a source of escape, solace and guidance for me, it is important to note that everyone’s experience with breast cancer is unique. What works for one person may not work for another. 

Reading can be a powerful tool in the healing process, offering a sense of escape, connection, I encourage you to explore the books mentioned here and discover others that resonate with you.

Thank you for reading and sharing this journey with me. Remember to order these books from your favorite local bookshop, like Changing Hands in Phoenix! Please share what books resonated with you on your path!

Tata Letter

Dear Boobs,

This is a tata letter. Get it? You are leaving me in less than 48 hours, so tata, tatas! I wish you didn’t have to go. We’ve been together so long but I feel like I never gave you the love and treasuring you deserved. Even though I jokingly called you “ticking time boobs” because of your density, I still thought we would be together forever. Unfortunately, lobular carcinoma is in Lefty and it has a 50% chance of recurrence in Righty so off you both go. It’s really not an IF but a WHEN. So, goodbyes are in order.   

I remember how strange it felt when you first arrived so many years ago. It took a long time to get used to the way you felt and how I needed to move with you. But with time and good bras, we figured it all out.  

Thank you for feeding my precious baby. Breastfeeding was one of the strangest and loveliest sensations I’ve ever felt. Milk dropping is a sensation better felt than described. If pressed, I would say it feels like peeing in your pants but out of your boobs. Baby bonding was magical and I was so proud of producing more milk than that tiny little soul could drink as she grew chubby cheeks and rubberband wrists. The sign for milk was one of the first signs she learned and used the most, often emphatically. Your soreness – especially to cold – was always the first indication of potential pregnancy and I will always be grateful. 

Over the years I have been sad to see you shrink when I lose weight. Seriously, anywhere but there! 

I thought about going without breasts moving forward. I thought…if I can’t have YOU, why bother? But I realized that my breasts, YOU, are part of my identity. I like how you balance out my other curves. I like how you make my shirts look. So, you will be reconstructed with fat from my stomach but you will never be the same. You will be smaller and full of scars. You likely won’t have nipples, but that is actually a benefit of this surgery. Maybe fewer bras, aka BOOB JAILS in the future! Alas, no sensation in my future tatas. 

I don’t feel like you betrayed me. Cancer sucks and betrayed us all. I’m glad we had a fantastic photoshoot to document and honor your loveliness. 

We had a really good run. Except when we were running because – ouch! 

I wish you well in the universe. Travel on.

My friend has these caged gnomes in her yard, which she changes peridocially. She painted two of them to look like breasts for me and the rest pink for breast cancer awareness. Thank you, Kellie! I’m touched and honored.

How one dramatic girl was saved by her drama teacher

This is the true story of how one dramatic girl was saved by her drama teacher. 

I attended an excellent high school in the Midwest. The drama department was well-funded, staffed with dedicated professionals, and had the support of parent boosters. What a stage! I could learn performance and technical theatre. The first time I felt the heat of the spotlight illuminate my skin, it felt like a dream come true. I also quickly learned how to operate the spotlight and fell in love with theatre technology.  

At the same time, I discovered boys and other bad choices. My attendance at school dropped. My grades were atrocious, and I became in danger of not graduating. My parents were mad. There was plenty of drama in my life, but of the wrong kind.  

But I wasn’t changing. I was born stubborn and will likely die stubborn – some things don’t change.  

Luckily someone intervened in a way that finally broke through. 

Mr. Degnan, my high school drama teacher, pulled me into his office one day. My PARENTS were there. My stomach dropped.  

He launched into a lecture that began with the only words I heard…I will not cast you until… 

I stopped listening after that, but I understood his point. I was not going to be included until I got my act together.  

Talk about drama! I screamed, I cried, I railed to the four winds. But Mr. Degnan helped me turn my messy drama into positive drama for others. From high school, to college, to a doctoral degree and a long teaching career, with the help of many others, I’ve had the privilege of introducing thousands of students to drama. The arts saved me. The arts helped me become someone who could help others. 

But in Arizona, our students are often denied arts education due to a lack of education funding. Our students are denied the same opportunities to be changed by the arts in the manner I was. Arizona students simply don’t have the opportunities. They don’t have access to the quality arts teachers that I had the privilege from which to learn.  

My story takes place in the mid-1990’s – an era apparently now referred to as vintage. However, Google provided me with some very interesting information. My education in the Midwest in the 1990’s was funded at roughly $16,000 per year. Today’s Arizona students are funded at roughly $4,801 per student per year. My 90’s funding was four times more than my students receive today! How many lives could be saved if we invested in our students by investing in the arts? Help this dramatic teacher bring the arts and drama to our students.  

Another New(ish) Next Step

It’s been a while! Well, how was your pandemic? Mine was simultaneously terrifying, stressful, tedious, and eventful. My last post indicated that I had taken a job as the Development Director at the Phoenix Theatre Company. While that was wonderful while it lasted, it didn’t last long due to the pandemic. The arts sector was decimated by the venue closures and most of the staff was let go during the summer of 2020.

Sometimes events that feel scary at the time work out for the best. During my lay-off, I was introduced to the founders of a nonprofit focusing on arts and culture field trips for Title I schools in Arizona called Act One. The mission is to increase arts access. Field trips? Access to the arts? YES, PLEASE! I joined the team as the Arts Education Director and have now been here for more than two years.

Here’s why I love my job:

Research shows that when students are involved in the arts, they make gains in math, reading, cognitive ability, critical thinking, and verbal and motor skills. Arts learning can also improve motivation, concentration, confidence, and teamwork.

Arizona has 1,300 Title I schools where per-pupil spending in arts education is less than $1 a year.

According to a report by the Arizona Commission on the Arts, in 2009, 134,203 students attended school in Arizona without access to music or visual arts instruction provided by high-quality teachers. That is 13% of the total student population!

Art in schools helps close the equity gap that has left low-income students behind. Affluent children are often exposed to the arts, whether or not their schools provide them, while students from under-resourced areas are not. Arts education levels the playing field – and this is where Act One can make a significant difference.

Moving into the nonprofit sector from education has been quite a learning experience. More to come!

Announcement and Next Steps!

Big announcement time – I’m thrilled to share that I’ve joined The Phoenix Theater Company as Institutional Advancement Manager! I will be establishing relationships with corporate partners in the community and expanding the portfolio of donors through grants and sponsorships. I’m excited to be working with such creative people and to advance an organization I’ve been a fan of for a long time. I can work from home some and work on the incredibly amazing theatre campus, too. My office is steps from backstage so you know I’m in my element! Be sure to stop by my office the next time you see a show or hit the ArtBar and Bistro during the amazing 101st season (when we reopen)! How will this change the focus of this blog?  That remains to be seen but what won’t change is my passion and commitment to public schools, students, and teachers.  Taking a step out of the system may allow me fresh ways to view it and create change in new ways.  I may write more about wellness and self-care and I’m sure I will write more about equity and privilege.  On that note, are you looking for ways to make a difference in the world today? Here’s one: Join your local NAACP chapter. I’m a proud member of the West Valley NAACP. I value the community, what I learn, and the opportunity to grow with people I respect who are committed to change. Join me and let me know when you do. Find your local chapter here. Here’s another: If you are a white person interested in doing more, please consider reading White Fragility. Racism is a structure, not an event. From White Fragility I learned we need to have conversations about HOW our own racism manifests, not IF, and what to do about it.

 Stay tuned, folx, this is only the beginning! 

The Letter of Resignation I Wanted to Write

From my last blog at Stories from School today…

It’s hard for me to believe, but after twenty years of teaching, this is my last week as a teacher. I wrote my letter of resignation a few months ago. It was a short, simple statement beginning with my intention to leave and thanking the school board, superintendent, administrators, colleagues, and especially, the students I’ve been fortunate to work with and learn from.

Here’s the longer version of why I’m leaving.

After years of successful and rewarding teaching, I have come to the conclusion that I can no longer, in good conscience, teach. I am the type of person who needs to feel effective to be fulfilled. I can no longer be an effective teacher under the conditions given, conditions rampant across the nation. I cannot fulfill my vision of good teaching and so I have become a “conscientious objector.” This is not a decision I’ve come to lightly, and from someone who has found personal identity in the title “teacher” for half my life. It is not because I am burnt out but because I am demoralized.

There is a difference between demoralization and burnout. Burnout indicates a lack of resilience. I am plenty resilient – I practice yoga, self-care and mindfulness daily, set boundaries between work and home life, and say no to projects that don’t fuel me. Demoralization is “rooted in discouragement and despair bourne out of ongoing value conflicts with pedagogical policies, reform mandates, and school policies” (Santoro, p 3). Demoralization is a contextual issue, not a psychological one.

I am not alone. Arizona has approximately 95,000 certified teachers, but only about 52,000 are teaching, according to the Arizona Department of Education (Educator Retention and Recruitment Report, 2015). My demoralization fits my context but the truth is universal.

Many teachers who experience demoralization recall it happening gradually over a period of time, not necessarily at a single incident. While my demoralization has crept in gradually over the past several years, it lept in front of me one day this past winter, too big, too loud, and too scary to ignore.

We were delivering yet another round of benchmark tests. It was December, a time in elementary schools when teachers know you need the best, most engaging material in your repertoire to keep your students from climbing the ceilings and walls with pre-holiday madness. Giving them a computerized, standardized test felt like I was torturing my ten and eleven-year-olds. I was feeling literally trapped in my tiny portable classroom, severely overheated and stuffed with 31 5th graders. In an effort to “prepare an environment that mimics the AZ Merit test,” our special area classes were cut for the two days it would take to take the tests.

I was hot, literally and figuratively. But forced to comply, I read the directions to my class aloud (don’t get out of your seat without permission, keep your eyes forward, etc.) and helped my students log-in and begin the online assessment.

After a while, one young man got out of his seat. I became so upset (RULE NUMBER ONE WAS DON’T GET OUT OF YOUR SEAT!) I hissed at him, “What are you doing? Why are you out of your seat?” He replied sheepishly, “Oh sorry, I just forgot.” He glanced back at me with scared eyes as he returned to his seat.

I returned to my desk and sat down heavily, thoughts swirling: What was I doing? What had I become? Had I just whisper-yelled at a student for getting out of his seat? It hit me that I didn’t like it and didn’t want to perpetuate this system anymore. “The dilemma in demoralization is not a question of what should be done; the problem is what should be done is not possible” (Santora, p. 55).

I went home and had a long tearful conversation with my family and decided to end my teaching career. When I reflected on the decision I had made, I felt a huge weight lift. I knew it was the right thing for me to do.

My motto of late has been “Into the Unknown.” But I was inspired by a different song by Elsa, “It’s time to see what I can do – to test the limits and break through.” I will always have a passion for students, teachers, and public schools, and leaving teaching will give me a new perspective and opportunities to advocate. I will take my passion and dedication and direct it in other ways. I will find a way to live a meaningful life in a different context – a context where I can be effective and do good work.

That’s what I wanted people to know. But I wish to express sincere gratitude for the people who I’ve shared so much joy with over the years of teaching, from my first colleagues and mentors at Willow Grove in Illinois, to my fellow Bobcats at Sunset Hills, the AEA/NEA crew, my Arizona and National State Network of Teachers of the Year family, the #amAZingNBCTs, the Arizona K12 Center and the National Board, as well as all of the other educators, administrators and advocates I have worked with along the way. But especially, to you, my hundreds (thousands?) of students. You are all the ones who made it so hard to leave.

Pictures from the class of 2020 in kindergarten!

It’s Been A While

It’s been an entire year since I’ve blogged on this site.  It doesn’t seem possible, but then I reflect on how many things have changed since last May: a whole school year with the usual madness behind us, celebrating my 20th year in the classroom, a successful run of Disney’s  Frozen, Jr. with a cast and crew of over 135 kindergarten through twelfth graders, and, oh yeah, a global pandemic.  I’ll be posting a blog later this week with some big news but in case you missed these:

Here is one of my favorite blogs I’ve ever written, about the resurgence of arts during the pandemic and how that ties to ESSA funding.

Here is a blog I wrote for one of my favorite sites as a parent and teacher, Understood.  It is a goodbye letter to my students celebrating their achievements and growth, even during distance learning.

Here is a blog from Stories from School with reflections and learning from my 20 years as a classroom teacher.

If you want to see other blogs from Stories from School you may have missed, click here.

 

Stayed tuned for some big news ahead!

Teacher Appreciation Week and Blog Season

It’s Teacher Appreciation Week!  We can truly appreciate teachers by paying us fairly, providing reasonable class sizes, allowing for well-paid support staff, etc. Please contact your lawmakers and post to social media with #FundOurSchools and #ThankATeacher.  If you’d like more Teacher Appreciation tips, check out this blog from Expect More Arizona.

I’ve had a number of other blog posts posted over the past few weeks.  ICYMI:

In Ed Week, a blog about my experience with Empatico and how using a compare/contrast sentence stem may change how my city is perceived.

On Educators for Higher Standards, a blog about my disappointment with the Arizona legislature’s $340 million mistake when offering a menu of assessments for Arizona’s students.

On Stories from School an update on the Arizona National Board Certified Teachers Network legislative initiative called Two Weeks of Action.  You can also hear legislative updates from ASBA’s Chris Kotterman and more about Two Weeks of Action on the 3 Peas in a Pod Podcast.

Happy reading and thank you to all my fabulous educator friends out there!

The Hidden Education Crisis and a Missed Opportunity for Arizona to Improve

This blog struck a chord with my fellow educators on Facebook and Twitter.  There were stories of 56 absences from a first grader and of high schoolers getting signed out for lunch and not coming back for the rest of the day.  There were feelings of anger at districts and administration for placing blame on teachers and not doing more to help.  There was anger directed at parents for contributing to the problem and not being held accountable.  There was a call for social workers and truancy officers.

The Arizona Department of Education missed a big opportunity to help solve this crisis in our ESSA state plan.  It is my hope that our new Superintendent of Public Instruction will put some low-cost, research-based, easy-to-implement strategies in place through the state plan.  Read more on the Educators for Higher Standards blog.

 

Trust, but Verify

The Arizona Legislative session began this week.  The Governor’s budget comes out today.  Read my latest blog on Stories from School to hear my philosophy on how to deal with policymakers this year.