As the news leaks out, I get more insight into the mentality of my students. Below are just a few of the conversations I've had that stand out in my mind.
The first day of a new block, I always do an intro activity because we usually have a handful of new students. Kids partnered up, and I had them discover one thing they have in common, one thing they don't have in common, and one thing "under the iceberg" for each student. "Under the iceberg" is a term we use to get students to talk about things we can't tell about them just by looking. This can be as simple as a like or dislike ("My favorite color is green") to a life-changing childhood memory ("My father committed suicide when I was 5"). I've heard a wide range of answers. In one class, there was an odd number of students, so I paired up with one. I decided to reveal my secret during this activity. Some might say it's cheating, because I'm just starting to show, so perhaps this isn't really "under the iceberg" and certainly not for long. But once it was announced to class, I heard a wide range of responses.
"I heard that, but I didn't think it was true because you don't look pregnant."
"Do you know what you're having?"
"Are you excited?"
"Are you going to keep it?" This question was like the point in the movie where the needle scratches across a record and there was a moment of silence. The girl who asked the question looked around. "What?" she said.
Joe (not his real name), a large, football playing 8th grader looked at her. "What kind of question is that? That's like something you would ask a teenage girl!"
"Of course I'm going to keep it," was my response, as I wondered how many of her friends or family members had had to make that decision at a young age.
*****
In another class, with a similar activity, I was outed. Most kids had heard a buzz about my pregnancy, but few knew for sure and a few were completely surprised. One girl asked, without any sense of embarrassment or even hesitation, "Are you going to have an abortion?" Again, my instinct was to be shocked, first that such a question would come to her mind, second that she'd have the gall to ask it. But I was able to step out of myself and see the greater picture. These kids are not fortunate enough to grow up in a family that instilled my family values. And while I am pro-choice politically, I know I could never personally have an abortion. But at the age of 13, I also know I probably only had a vague notion of what the word meant, and I would never even think about it when someone was announcing that they were pregnant.
So, I answered calmly. "No. I'm not having an abortion. If I was, I certainly wouldn't be announcing it to everyone."
A young man in the front row changed the tone. He was looking behind me, at a display I had in my room about the scientific method. "You should name it Hypothesis."
I laughed, but considered briefly. "That's actually kind of cute." I told him and he gave me a proud smile. Not a bad recommendation to give the pregnant science teacher.
*****
Lily (not her real name) is a sweet girl. She suffers from anxiety, lives in a shelter with her mom, and has her share of issues, but she has a mature attitude and a quick smile. She is one of the few kids who became instantly popular without even trying. She sidled up to me at lunch a couple days ago. "So, are the rumors I've been hearing true?"
"What rumors?" I said, taking a bite of my sandwich.
"You know, the rumor about you?"
"Which one?"
"The big one." She was smiling at me- knowing I was playing with her.
"That I'm moving to Egypt. No, that's not true. I'm staying here. I don't even know how that one got started."
She slapped me playfully on the arm. "No, the big one. That you're prego."
I smiled at her. "Oh that one. Yeah...that one's true."
"That's so exciting!" she said.
I heard giggling behind me. I turned around to see another student within earshot of the conversation. This girl was quiet, nearly all the time. She was shy beyond the average range of shyness. Good natured, hard-working, but the SpEd liaison had informally diagnosed her with selective mutism- a condition usually caused by some sort of trauma in life. She'd come a long way at our school. She was making friends and was able to read aloud in class and answer occasionally questions. But still, she was reserved and quiet...most of the time. I looked at her and asked, "What's so funny?" I knew this news was new to her.
She put her hand up to her mouth as her face shook with laughter. "You're going to get fat!"
I felt indignant, but couldn't help but giggle. "No, I'm not," I said. "I'm going to get a belly, but I'm not going to get fat. There's a big difference between being pregnant and being fat." But she continued to giggle at me.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Weight gain
I went into pregnancy fit and proud. I work out. I'm active. I've got more muscle than the average female. I don't monitor my weight, because I know that my diet and exercise habits take care of that for me.
So, getting on the scale once a month is new for me. Seeing the scale tip a bit more each time, definitely a shocker.
I went into my 1st prenatal appointment, got weighed and checked. Was told things looked good and to eat what I could, because I was likely to be in "survival mode," meaning that I should eat what sounds good, because nothing might sound good at all.
Well, I'm one of the lucky ones. No morning sickness. Not even a bit of nausea. A few food cravings and aversions, but again, nothing too unique. I was off chicken for about a week. Still have to force down apples and bananas, though I used to eat them daily and with pleasure. I've eaten my weight in Honey Nut Cheerios and soup. Last week, I went into the store for the SOLE purpose of buying cookies and cream icecream. I had to have it after it was mentioned in conversation with some of my students. I thought about it all day long.
At my 12 week appointment, I got back on the scale, expecting to have gained at least a few pounds. I was eating more. I wasn't throwing anything up. My boobs were swelling rapidly. I didn't have a baby bump, but I felt a little "thicker." I was surprised and proud of myself when I'd only gained 1 pound. That's what they recommend. One pound a month for the first 3 months, then one pound a week for the rest of pregnancy. I felt justified in my appetite and my increased caloric intake. Clearly, this was going to good use.
At my 16 week appointment, I stepped back on the scale, expecting another modest increase, maybe 2 or 3 pounds this time. The nurse kept pushing the little black weight further to the right. I'd gained 8 more pounds! 9 (probably 10 since the very beginning) pounds total!
I stepped off the scale and looked at Dave, who had the day off and was able to join me for this appointment. "8 pounds," I mouthed to him. "I've gained 8 pounds." He looked nonplussed and squeezed my hand as I sat down on the examination chair. The nurse left, telling us the NP/Midwife would be in shortly.
"I can't believe I've gained 8 pounds," I said. "That's more than I should."
"You're fine. Your body is probably catching up since you didn't gain much in the first trimester."
It's funny. I know I'm pregnant. I know this is one time in my life where I will and should gain 25+ pounds. And I'm not a body image freak. My philosophy is that as long as I feel good and my clothes fit, I'm doing something right. But the stigma of weight gain hit me unexpectedly. 8 pounds in a month is a lot. I'm not showing that much. My boobs are huge and I have a little bump, but I can't help being concerned with this news. I start doing the math in my head. 2 pounds to boobs, 1 pound to the placenta, 1 pound to baby, some to increased blood volume, there's amniotic fluid...
Luckily I'm saved from these crazy pregnant lady thoughts by the NP. We listen to the heart beat, always an amazing moment. At 7 weeks, she'd had to fish around to find the little one's beat down by my pelvis. But now, Squirt (one of many fetus nicknames) was right below my belly button and we could hear a strong, "swish, swish, swish" of its little heart. I was delighted at the "swish, swish, BLIP!, swish, swish, swish, BLIP!" The NP explained the blips. "A little bit of movement there. You probably can't feel it now, but soon..."
After the heartbeat, the NP asked if we had any questions and reviewed my chart. "You've gained 9 pounds so far. Perfectly normal."
"Not too much?"
"No, that's just fine. And next time I see you, you'll be at the halfway point."
That statement--"halfway point"--both consoled and agitated me. I was consoled because 9 pounds at the almost halfway point seemed right. I was agitated because this is really happening! I'm really growing something that will be emerging from my uterus in about 24 weeks. I have a lot to learn before that happens.
So, getting on the scale once a month is new for me. Seeing the scale tip a bit more each time, definitely a shocker.
I went into my 1st prenatal appointment, got weighed and checked. Was told things looked good and to eat what I could, because I was likely to be in "survival mode," meaning that I should eat what sounds good, because nothing might sound good at all.
Well, I'm one of the lucky ones. No morning sickness. Not even a bit of nausea. A few food cravings and aversions, but again, nothing too unique. I was off chicken for about a week. Still have to force down apples and bananas, though I used to eat them daily and with pleasure. I've eaten my weight in Honey Nut Cheerios and soup. Last week, I went into the store for the SOLE purpose of buying cookies and cream icecream. I had to have it after it was mentioned in conversation with some of my students. I thought about it all day long.
At my 12 week appointment, I got back on the scale, expecting to have gained at least a few pounds. I was eating more. I wasn't throwing anything up. My boobs were swelling rapidly. I didn't have a baby bump, but I felt a little "thicker." I was surprised and proud of myself when I'd only gained 1 pound. That's what they recommend. One pound a month for the first 3 months, then one pound a week for the rest of pregnancy. I felt justified in my appetite and my increased caloric intake. Clearly, this was going to good use.
At my 16 week appointment, I stepped back on the scale, expecting another modest increase, maybe 2 or 3 pounds this time. The nurse kept pushing the little black weight further to the right. I'd gained 8 more pounds! 9 (probably 10 since the very beginning) pounds total!
I stepped off the scale and looked at Dave, who had the day off and was able to join me for this appointment. "8 pounds," I mouthed to him. "I've gained 8 pounds." He looked nonplussed and squeezed my hand as I sat down on the examination chair. The nurse left, telling us the NP/Midwife would be in shortly.
"I can't believe I've gained 8 pounds," I said. "That's more than I should."
"You're fine. Your body is probably catching up since you didn't gain much in the first trimester."
It's funny. I know I'm pregnant. I know this is one time in my life where I will and should gain 25+ pounds. And I'm not a body image freak. My philosophy is that as long as I feel good and my clothes fit, I'm doing something right. But the stigma of weight gain hit me unexpectedly. 8 pounds in a month is a lot. I'm not showing that much. My boobs are huge and I have a little bump, but I can't help being concerned with this news. I start doing the math in my head. 2 pounds to boobs, 1 pound to the placenta, 1 pound to baby, some to increased blood volume, there's amniotic fluid...
Luckily I'm saved from these crazy pregnant lady thoughts by the NP. We listen to the heart beat, always an amazing moment. At 7 weeks, she'd had to fish around to find the little one's beat down by my pelvis. But now, Squirt (one of many fetus nicknames) was right below my belly button and we could hear a strong, "swish, swish, swish" of its little heart. I was delighted at the "swish, swish, BLIP!, swish, swish, swish, BLIP!" The NP explained the blips. "A little bit of movement there. You probably can't feel it now, but soon..."
After the heartbeat, the NP asked if we had any questions and reviewed my chart. "You've gained 9 pounds so far. Perfectly normal."
"Not too much?"
"No, that's just fine. And next time I see you, you'll be at the halfway point."
That statement--"halfway point"--both consoled and agitated me. I was consoled because 9 pounds at the almost halfway point seemed right. I was agitated because this is really happening! I'm really growing something that will be emerging from my uterus in about 24 weeks. I have a lot to learn before that happens.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Middle Schoolers
Telling people you are pregnant is a fun and even nerve-wracking experience. Dave and I came up with different ways to tell the people closest to us. Some got cell phone pics of the ultra-sound. I surprised a few by answering the question, "How are you?" with the answer "Pregnant." Some it slipped out before I even knew it was going to happen. Some friends found out reading comments and status updates on facebook.
I teach middle school, at an alternative school, and my students are a challenging bunch. I'm barely showing, but I'm at about 15+ weeks and I haven't figured out how to tell them. My plan was to announce it to my "advocate" group (like a homeroom, only more community oriented), and let them spread it around. But after winter break, I just couldn't do it. I didn't feel like it. Chalk it up to hormones, or perhaps logic. Middle school students are an interesting cross section of humanity. They simply cannot be expected to show empathy or an appropriate amount of enthusiasm. They are not likely to censor their thoughts, and since pregnancy is so closely related to sex, I cannot expect them not to "go there."
My sweet daydream of a special moment with my favorite students, quickly turned to a nightmare image of pimply, horny adolescents catcalling and asking inappropriate questions about sexual positions. They are also likely to point out that I've been moodier than usual. They might (and I flatter myself) resent the growth in my uterus for the attention it will be getting from me. The more I thought about it, the more I thought it might be fun to just grow and see who notices. I won't deny being pregnant if it comes up, but I decided not to announce it either.
Cue the loud-mouthed 5 year old. My coworkers know, so it's not surprising that my coworker's daughter, a frequent visitor to the school, also knows. At first, she didn't believe her mother, because I didn't have the huge belly that defines pregnancy for most 5 year olds. After assuring her I was, in fact, quite pregnant, she seemed satisfied.
Last Thursday, I was helping three students with homework after school. All girls. My coworker had picked up her daughter and brought her back to the building. She peeked into the room. "Hi Denise," she said. I returned the greeting. She looked a bit sheepish, and right away I knew, she was going to give it away. "Denise...are you?" she paused and smiled. "Are you going to have a b..." another pause. "A baby?"
I'm sure I blushed. "Go find your mom," was my response to her.
"My mom's next door," she said.
"Then go talk to Fred," I told her, feeling a bit hot. Fred is our counselor. She left me alone with the three students, now all staring at me.
"Are you?" asked B.
"Am I what?" I asked back, trying to be unaffected.
"Going to have a baby?" She was a rosy-cheeked girl by nature, but the intensity of her question raised the color.
"Well, eventually," I said, and shrugged, turning to the page in front of us to attempt redirection.
"Oh," said B. "I was gonna say..."
I thought, just for a second, I was safe. But then came the question that would require either truth or a blatant denial. "Are you pregnant?" asked D, another student in the room.
I hesitated, but only for a second. This was actually an ideal situation for the secret to leak. 3 girls, all sweet, all somewhat discreet. "Yes. Yes I am."
"Really?" said W, the 3rd student. "That is so cool." Her freckled face was sincere. She looked really excited.
"You don't look pregnant," said D. "I look more pregnant than you do." She leaned back and patted her belly, just a little bloated with extra adolescent pounds.
"Well, I'll look pregnant soon enough. Believe me."
The following day, we had a all-school trip to Oaks Park to go roller-skating. I expected to be bombarded by rolling students asking quesitons. But those three girls can keep a secret. At least for a day. They did admit they told one other girl, and she would ultimately be the big leak, but I was okay with it. I was ready for students to know. I might even get some sympathy behavior from them.
At one point during the roller skating, the program director (my boss), came up to me. "Some of the students are asking if we can announce your news over the loud speaker." I was skating around, supervising students. "It would be a good way to get the news out there," she said.
I smiled, and again hesitated, but only briefly. "No, I don't think so. I don't want it to go down like that."
She nodded, clearly understanding. "Thought I'd ask." She skated away. I'm not a particularly shy or private person, so I'm not sure why I refused the opportunity for something that would put me in the spotlight. Maybe I want to relish all the individual discoveries, rather than get blasted with reactions all at once. It's such a special and personal thing, I'm worried about my own reaction to the way others handle the news.
Since then, the word has spread slowly. The kids are sweet about it. They seem suprised, pleased, curious, shy. It's nice to have it trickle to a few kids at a time. Gives me more special moments, and sometimes, eye-opening ones.
Yesterday at lunch, a couple of kids called me over to the table.
"Are you...?" Student 1 paused, looking embarrassed.
"Are you pregnant?" Student 2, the outspoken one, blurted.
Student 1 got some courage. "Yeah, cuz I heard you was 5 months pregnant."
I smiled. "Well, yes, I am. I'm only 16 weeks- so about 4 months, but yes, I'm pregnant."
They smiled. 1 and 2 are girls, and seemed content with that information. Student 3 had been silently munching his quesadilla. He decided to speak. "Are you pregnant by your husband?"
Here, time stood still a bit. My first reaction was to be offended. Was he being crude? But I looked at his face. It was calm, curious, no sign of naughtiness or joking. He was asking me this question seriously.
"Well, of course I am. Of course it's my husband's baby."
He shrugged, took another bite. "Well, because not all women are...you know...pregnant by their husbands."
"I guess you're right. I guess that's true."
This kid was 13. How does a 13 year old think to ask that? I retold the story to some of my coworkers and most of them laughed. My boss nodded. She has a 1 year old daughter and had worked at the school through her pregnancy. "The kids were shocked that I had a husband, "she said. "And beyond that, that we were still together. And still more shocking, that he was the father. It's just not in their world view."
And while the comment was humorous, entertaining, one for the blog, it made me sad. It highlights the difference between me and my students. I was grown up to believe in marriage and fidelity and loyalty. These values take most of my students by surprise. In a school that serves students living in poverty and often violence, a present, supportive father is a rarity.
I teach middle school, at an alternative school, and my students are a challenging bunch. I'm barely showing, but I'm at about 15+ weeks and I haven't figured out how to tell them. My plan was to announce it to my "advocate" group (like a homeroom, only more community oriented), and let them spread it around. But after winter break, I just couldn't do it. I didn't feel like it. Chalk it up to hormones, or perhaps logic. Middle school students are an interesting cross section of humanity. They simply cannot be expected to show empathy or an appropriate amount of enthusiasm. They are not likely to censor their thoughts, and since pregnancy is so closely related to sex, I cannot expect them not to "go there."
My sweet daydream of a special moment with my favorite students, quickly turned to a nightmare image of pimply, horny adolescents catcalling and asking inappropriate questions about sexual positions. They are also likely to point out that I've been moodier than usual. They might (and I flatter myself) resent the growth in my uterus for the attention it will be getting from me. The more I thought about it, the more I thought it might be fun to just grow and see who notices. I won't deny being pregnant if it comes up, but I decided not to announce it either.
Cue the loud-mouthed 5 year old. My coworkers know, so it's not surprising that my coworker's daughter, a frequent visitor to the school, also knows. At first, she didn't believe her mother, because I didn't have the huge belly that defines pregnancy for most 5 year olds. After assuring her I was, in fact, quite pregnant, she seemed satisfied.
Last Thursday, I was helping three students with homework after school. All girls. My coworker had picked up her daughter and brought her back to the building. She peeked into the room. "Hi Denise," she said. I returned the greeting. She looked a bit sheepish, and right away I knew, she was going to give it away. "Denise...are you?" she paused and smiled. "Are you going to have a b..." another pause. "A baby?"
I'm sure I blushed. "Go find your mom," was my response to her.
"My mom's next door," she said.
"Then go talk to Fred," I told her, feeling a bit hot. Fred is our counselor. She left me alone with the three students, now all staring at me.
"Are you?" asked B.
"Am I what?" I asked back, trying to be unaffected.
"Going to have a baby?" She was a rosy-cheeked girl by nature, but the intensity of her question raised the color.
"Well, eventually," I said, and shrugged, turning to the page in front of us to attempt redirection.
"Oh," said B. "I was gonna say..."
I thought, just for a second, I was safe. But then came the question that would require either truth or a blatant denial. "Are you pregnant?" asked D, another student in the room.
I hesitated, but only for a second. This was actually an ideal situation for the secret to leak. 3 girls, all sweet, all somewhat discreet. "Yes. Yes I am."
"Really?" said W, the 3rd student. "That is so cool." Her freckled face was sincere. She looked really excited.
"You don't look pregnant," said D. "I look more pregnant than you do." She leaned back and patted her belly, just a little bloated with extra adolescent pounds.
"Well, I'll look pregnant soon enough. Believe me."
The following day, we had a all-school trip to Oaks Park to go roller-skating. I expected to be bombarded by rolling students asking quesitons. But those three girls can keep a secret. At least for a day. They did admit they told one other girl, and she would ultimately be the big leak, but I was okay with it. I was ready for students to know. I might even get some sympathy behavior from them.
At one point during the roller skating, the program director (my boss), came up to me. "Some of the students are asking if we can announce your news over the loud speaker." I was skating around, supervising students. "It would be a good way to get the news out there," she said.
I smiled, and again hesitated, but only briefly. "No, I don't think so. I don't want it to go down like that."
She nodded, clearly understanding. "Thought I'd ask." She skated away. I'm not a particularly shy or private person, so I'm not sure why I refused the opportunity for something that would put me in the spotlight. Maybe I want to relish all the individual discoveries, rather than get blasted with reactions all at once. It's such a special and personal thing, I'm worried about my own reaction to the way others handle the news.
Since then, the word has spread slowly. The kids are sweet about it. They seem suprised, pleased, curious, shy. It's nice to have it trickle to a few kids at a time. Gives me more special moments, and sometimes, eye-opening ones.
Yesterday at lunch, a couple of kids called me over to the table.
"Are you...?" Student 1 paused, looking embarrassed.
"Are you pregnant?" Student 2, the outspoken one, blurted.
Student 1 got some courage. "Yeah, cuz I heard you was 5 months pregnant."
I smiled. "Well, yes, I am. I'm only 16 weeks- so about 4 months, but yes, I'm pregnant."
They smiled. 1 and 2 are girls, and seemed content with that information. Student 3 had been silently munching his quesadilla. He decided to speak. "Are you pregnant by your husband?"
Here, time stood still a bit. My first reaction was to be offended. Was he being crude? But I looked at his face. It was calm, curious, no sign of naughtiness or joking. He was asking me this question seriously.
"Well, of course I am. Of course it's my husband's baby."
He shrugged, took another bite. "Well, because not all women are...you know...pregnant by their husbands."
"I guess you're right. I guess that's true."
This kid was 13. How does a 13 year old think to ask that? I retold the story to some of my coworkers and most of them laughed. My boss nodded. She has a 1 year old daughter and had worked at the school through her pregnancy. "The kids were shocked that I had a husband, "she said. "And beyond that, that we were still together. And still more shocking, that he was the father. It's just not in their world view."
And while the comment was humorous, entertaining, one for the blog, it made me sad. It highlights the difference between me and my students. I was grown up to believe in marriage and fidelity and loyalty. These values take most of my students by surprise. In a school that serves students living in poverty and often violence, a present, supportive father is a rarity.
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