The Room Of Jacks

Through the years I have had many memorable classes. I have had quiet classes, loud classes and classes that were so sweet that at the end of the year, I hated to see them go. Each year is different and memorable in its own way. One of my most unforgettable classes will forever stand in my mind as the most challenging. Not because of the children, though they did bring challenge aplenty, but for my own personal struggles that year.

I call this class the room of Jacks. Out of a room of 16 children, 12 of them were boys and 5 of them were named Jack. We had Jack B. Jack C. Jack D. Jack E and Jack W. In the sense that Jack W. was out of alphabetical order and a tad too old, he was bumped up to the 4 yr. old room. This was the rowdy class of predominately loud and playful boys. 12 of them to be exact. I also had 4 girls, "bless them " and 2 of them were special needs children. One was autistic and the other had physical challenges. Needless to say, the stage was set for a very busy year.

I wasn't particularly worried. I knew I was up for the job. Having had taught preschool for umpteen years I was confident that my energy level and patience would endure. As it turned out, patience was not what I was in need of that year. I was in need of strength. I had just spent the summer previous tending to my Father and Step Father who had both passed away from cancer. It had been a long summer caring for them both and each in different states. But I had gotten through it. What I hadn't planned on was my dear sister being diagnosed with breast cancer and dying. I was devastated.

I was praying to God for strength but what he gave me was a distraction. Working definitely helped. My room of Jacks and my 2 special needs children kept me busy and kept me laughing. Oh, what a class it was. The 4 Jacks were friends in the class and outside of the class. They all lived close to one another, attended the same church and would be attending the same schools. It was like a fraternity of Jack. I found myself saying "Jack" 100 times a day with all of them responding. I needed a system. I began calling them by their first name and last Initial. Soon they began referring to themselves this very same way and within a few weeks the rest of the class had followed suit. Bowing unto the pressure, the parents also began referring to their own Jacks with Initial attached. The Jack phenomenon continued into the 4 year old room and carries through to this day. Jack D's mother now works at our center and even though her son is now in the 4th grade, she still refers to him as Jack D.

My special needs girls were sweet and loving, as most special needs children are, but very demanding. My autistic child was prone to scream until she vomited every time we left the room. Keep in mind this was up to 3 times a day. After the first week I brought in a ready store of clean clothes to change into and became a quick change artist. The other little girl had epileptic seizures at least once a week and sometimes more often. Soon I was able to administer Demerol in a flash after dialing 911. I had to be on my toes. I didn't dwell on my grief, I was simply too busy. The room of Jacks helped me get through that tough tough year.

Each class has its own personality. This class was my loving and caring class. That rambunctious class of rowdy boys were so protective of each other and especially our special needs girls. They made extra efforts to play with these girls, share their toys and to hold their hands. They watched them when out of the room and should one of them need my help they would run to me. If another child from another room even looked at them cross ways they were there to stand up for them and protect them. It was a heartwarming thing to watch. In that class of Jacks those 2 girls thrived.

Once I was able to catch my breath the whole school year had all but passed. I had stayed so busy tending to this sweet but demanding class that an amazing thing had happened. My grief had dissipated into a manageable level. I had prayed for strength but had received a diversion. I had endured and grown strong again. Who in this world can dwell on death amongst so much life? Certainly not me. Thank you God.

Questions or comments? Please feel free to "Ask Ms. Donna"

Radical Thinking

I am a worrier. I consider this my job and I am good at it. Since I was a child I have worried about pollution, war and nuclear annihilation. Okay, the films we watched in elementary school telling us to duck and cover didn't help....as if ..... Worrying is, and forever will be, an intricate part of my psyche. In my adult life I have adjusted. I plan ahead, store water and I worry. All of the above helps me to function in my day to day life. I, at least, feel prepared for impending doom. I am generally a happy person with a dash of anxiety and a pinch of pessimism.

One would think that the current state of world affairs and the ever looming energy crisis would have thrown me into hyper worryland. I am stunned to announce that it has not. I actually am at peace because I know that as a nation we just can't continue on the same path. Somethings gotta give. 6 dollar a gallon gasoline is going to be the motivator to bring about the change we need.

As a whole America and our families are self destructing. One doesn't need a degree in sociology to recognize what is evident. High divorce rates, crimes against children, and the deterioration of our schools point to the obvious. We are focused on the physical exterior and not the emotional interior. We need something, anything to bring us back to a more simple time.

Happiness can no longer depend on the government, fast food, designer handbags or status symbol cars. Our habits as a family and a nation have to change. Being optimistic here, perhaps not having the ability to run the roads freely with cheap gas to buy entertainment and material things to make us happy, will put us on the road to the change we need. We need core values, we need our God, we need our community, and we need each other. None of this can be gotten at the mall.

All of this is radical thinking I know. For me, being optimistic is not a personal given. But what else can I do, what can we collectively do? We can either embrace this challenge, change how we live, or we can worry. For once in my life I choose to be optimistic. A wise man once said that the only constant in life is change. No truer words have ever been spoken.

Questions or comments? Please feel free to "Ask Ms. Donna"