Posts by Ashley:
- Elastic cord from a drawstring bag I never use.
- Old elastic headbands
- Strips of t-shirt fabric (cut, pull them tight so they roll, cut again to your measurements)
- Red fabric
- White fabric
- Coordinating thread
- Red ribbon
- White ribbon
- Sticky-back velcro
- White poster board/foam board/vinyl board
- Sewing machine
- Sewing notions (scissors, pins, measuring tape, fabric maker, etc.)
- Optional: serger, interfacing, a pre-made white bonnet
An Open Letter to My Students in the Middle of a Pandemic
March 28th, 2020Dear Students,
When you came into class sad about your games, trips, matches, activities being cancelled, I could relate. And I did. I told you that, my senior year, 9/11 happened, and it forever changed the way the world functioned. We had to cancel our senior year band trip to Arizona because we couldn’t drive there and no parent wanted their kids to fly. Most of you nodded. Some said, “oh,” as if you were realizing for the first time that you weren’t the only ones to have had your senior year plans altered because of a major world event. Some said, “oh,” as if you could sympathize with me, because now you can.
My lesson for you in that story was that it seemed like such a big deal at the time, and it seemed like I would never stop thinking about 9/11 and all the things it changed and took away. But, and I spoke honestly when I said this, I don’t think about it all that often. I had actually forgotten about that band trip until yours was also cancelled this year. There have just been so many other important things since then that it rarely crosses my mind.
But, at the time, COVID-19 felt as far away as the New York skyline felt to a midwestern teenager who had never been to the East coast, which is to say very far away. And, though my life was certainly affected by the attacks on September 11, 2001, the event did not suddenly and directly affect me in any personal way. The changes were much more gradual and, as such, hurt less.
Now, as I’ve been at home for two weeks, watching thing after thing being ripped away from you, from my children, from myself and my family; realizing that my parents might not see my baby until he’s almost not a baby anymore; experiencing a tightness in my chest and a panic as my husband goes out to the grocery store because we have no other choice; laying awake at night obsessing over symptoms and numbers… I’m realizing that my experience with 9/11 pales in comparison to your experience with this coronavirus.
Psychologists have posited, and I think they are correct, that what people are experiencing now is grief. We are grieving the loss of people, to be sure, as this virus takes the lives of more and more each day, but also the loss of what we thought our lives were going to look like – maybe in the short term, maybe for the foreseeable future, maybe forever… maybe all three. And I am not saying the nation didn’t experience a similar collective grief after 9/11. It did. I’m just saying that, in the egocentrism of seventeen, I didn’t experience it the same way as many others did.
But I am no stranger to grief. I had decided, at least in the short term, not to share this with my students, but extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures. In September 2018, I lost a baby. Her name was Olivia. I was 17 weeks pregnant, and we had just found out she was a girl and given her a name. I had started to plan for her nursery. My oldest daughter had started to get excited about a little sister. A week later, we found out her heart had stopped beating.
I grieved her loss. Correction: I still grieve her loss. I have a feeling I will always grieve her loss, even as we have a new and wonderful baby in our home who wouldn’t be here had she lived. You, too, might always grieve the losses you are experiencing now, even as the loss of those things may make space for other new, wonderful things. That’s okay. Humans can experience two seemingly conflicting emotions at the same time if we allow ourselves to.
For a time, I told myself that other people had it worse. At least I was only 17 weeks along. At least I didn’t lose her so close to the end of the pregnancy, or after she arrived. At least I hadn’t set up her nursery yet. At least a million other ways this could have been more horrible than it was, it wasn’t that. And then I learned not to play the “at least” game with myself. I was sad, and I deserved to be sad. You may also play the “at least” game with yourself, or others may try to play it with you. Others are sick and dying, yes. Others are losing loved ones, yes. But even if the only thing you lose is a piece of your school year, that is a loss and you deserve to be sad about that loss. “Emotions need motion.” Sit with them, feel them, let them move through you. And let others do the same.
I had terrible and crippling anxiety for a long time after we lost her. The anxiety is probably what changed the most of my life for me. I was terrified I’d lose something else close to me. I felt completely out of control, and I felt like I had no control over anything in my life. Now, it must feel very similar to you. You don’t have a choice about what is being taken away from you and when. Everything you touch and every person you come in contact with feels dangerous. That feeling might linger, like it did for me. I practiced feeling it, noticing it, and letting it move away. I practiced deciding what was reasonable and expected to feel anxious about, and taking steps to mitigate some of the rest. It trained me for this very moment, though there is no cure for anxiety. I still feel anxious for myself and my family, especially in times like these. But now that monster has a name, and when we can name things, we can deal with them better.
People kept trying to find a silver lining for me. “Everything happens for a reason!” they’d tell me. Maybe they needed to believe that for themselves, but I didn’t believe it for me, and I still don’t. Sometimes, things just suck. Sometimes crappy things just happen. Losing Olivia sucked, and it was crappy. That’s all. And I can believe that her loss was horrible while believing that my life now is great without having to believe that her horrible loss happened for me to have a great life right now. I still would have had a great life with her, too, and it took a lot of work for me to find greatness in my life after she was gone. If it helps you to find meaning in this experience with a global pandemic, then please do that for yourself. But it might help to just let the situation suck for a while, knowing that it won’t suck forever.
And it truly won’t suck forever. I remember being at home after Olivia’s delivery in September 2018, just wishing that I could be on the other side of a year from her loss. I knew, even before I started my work on my mental health, that after a year, everything would look so much different. That I would be looking backward and forward like well-adjusted people do instead of just one step in front of me. That the pain would feel more like a dull ache than a constant stabbing. That I might have some answers to the questions racing through my mind. And, sure enough, by the time I met you in August of 2019, I had sat with my grief and anxiety. I had let them move through me. I had let them change me. And I was able to get through the next anxious thing: the delivery of my son. And I’ll be able to get through this anxious thing, too.
And so will you. I promise. You have an entire support system behind you, including your school. Including me.
When I left you a few weeks ago, I was comparing your experience now to my experience with 9/11. I don’t think that minimized what you were feeling at the time, but I do think that explanation may minimize what you are feeling now. That wasn’t my intention. At the time, I couldn’t grasp the magnitude of this situation. I may have been in denial. (I’ve worked through some of this, but I’m still human, and working through grief and anxiety is not linear. Some days you’ll feel great, and some days you’ll feel like crap again, especially when situations like this crop up. That’s ok. Just keep moving forward.) And I can’t pretend to know exactly how you are feeling. Your feelings are unique and completely individual. Your path through grief and anxiety are, too. Not everyone will recover from this in the same way; not everyone will recover from this at all. Respect yourself. Respect your process. Respect others and their processes, too.
There will be an end to this. This is temporary. A year from now, everything will feel so much different. In the meantime, I hear you. I am here for you. We’ll make it to the other side together.
With so much love,
Ms. Samsa
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Love in the Time of Corona Or: A Handmade Face Mask Tutorial
March 21st, 2020DISCLAIMER: These are NOT meant to replace medical equipment. If you are making masks that are meant to take the place of medical-grade personal protective equipment, you’re going to need a different tutorial, of which there are plenty on the internet. I have several friends who are healthcare professionals who are being asked to reuse their N95 face masks until they are visibly soiled, and these were designed as basically splash guards to cover the N95 masks to extend their use, NOT as replacements for them. Contact healthcare providers specifically to see what they need and decide if this design is right for you.
Let me just start by saying it is bullshit that I should even have to be writing this tutorial. I know it is not likely that anyone in my limited audience would be hoarding N95 face masks right now, but just in case… STOP. IT. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Drive your boxes of masks straight to your nearest hospital and drop them off. No one will ask any questions. They will only be glad you came to your senses.
Let me also say – because I think this IS my audience – that I get it with the handmade masks being problematic thing. Hospitals are sometimes inundated with donations like this in times like these. Fabric masks can never and will never take the place of medical-grade equipment. The latest I heard was that some people are allergic to latex which makes up a lot of elastic so we should keep that in mind. To which I say: WE ARE DESPERATE. Medical professionals do not have access to enough personal protective equipment (PPE) to outlast this crisis. If they get sick, there’s no one else to care for us. These masks aren’t meant to take the place of medical-grade PPE; they are meant to extend the life of the PPE they have. And as far as latex goes… they’re doctors. They know about elastic and latex. They’re also very smart. Let them decide if they can use these or not.
So, if you want to make these fabric masks, I would suggest having someone specific you are in contact with who has decided for themselves if they want or need them or not. I, personally, have five healthcare professionals who have requested I make these for them; I imagine they are not the only ones. They are being told to use their N95s until they are visibly soiled, and they believe that wearing these over the N95s will help extend the life of the medical-grade masks. This is where we are. This is how desperate we’ve become.
The altruistic criticisms of fabric masks are valid, to be sure. But let’s not let perfect be the enemy of good here. Let’s instead do the good we can.
To that end, here’s an easy picture tutorial for how to make fabric masks.
Remember as we go, DO NOT LET PERFECT BE THE ENEMY OF GOOD. This will be a theme as we progress. These masks will work for their intended purpose even if the pleats aren’t measured and the lines aren’t perfectly straight.
It’s also worth mentioning that I used leftover fat quarters and old men’s shirts I had thrifted for this tutorial. They are meant to be splash guards, not medical masks. Use what you have.
OK. So, first, you need to cut one square of fabric 8″ x 14″ wide. I made like 20 of these today, so I taped and cut card stock into the proper shape and cut several layers at a time. Pro tip: If you put a can of beans or soup (which we all have because we all stocked our pantry, right?) on top of the pattern piece, it does a nice job of holding it in place while you cut.
You will also need two pieces of 1/4″ elastic (or 1/8″ works in a pinch), each 6.5″ long.
Fold it in half with the shorter ends touching; right sides together.
Next, sew around the three sides, pivoting at the corners. Leave a space at the beginning or the end so you can turn this thing right side out.
You can see where I left a space at the top here, where my left pointer finger is. Cut the corners so it’s easier to poke them out to points when you turn it right side out.
Turn this guy right side out, and use your fingers or a pencil eraser or chop sticks to poke the corners. Then, fold the seam allowance into the hole and top stitch over it. You will be able to see this. It doesn’t matter.
Next, pinch two pleats into the sides. These should be straight-ish, but, again, it doesn’t have to be perfect. I use clips to hold the pleats in place, but you can use pins or your fingers if you’re feeling lucky.
Next, put your elastic, facing outwards from the mask, in the corners and pin or clip the ends.
Then, sew a straight line over the elastic and pleats (back stitch a few times over the ends of the elastic to be sure they hold in place) on both sides of the mask.
Voila. You have a reusable face mask.
It’s not perfect. It’s not pretty. Trust me, they do not care. Healthcare workers are just trying to make this all work with whatever they have and they don’t have much.
Talk to a doctor. Ask if they need these. Ask if their hospital has any specifications and see if you can meet them. Start sewing.
Also, stay inside if you can. Wash your damn hands. Stay safe out there. <3
UPDATE! Because someone asked for it! I ran out of elastic. Elastic is out everywhere. So I used some other things. These may or may not work for your purposes. Good luck!
From top to bottom:
The one that has worked the best for me is the old elastic headbands. The t-shirt fabric functions and is comfortable, but it’s not as sturdy as real elastic so, depending on your purposes, it may or may not work for you.
I Deserve This Space
January 2nd, 2020It has been over a year since I’ve been here.
I spent the better part of a decade working to cultivate this site. I wrote some damn good pieces here – and elsewhere – in that decade. I did some stuff I was really proud of.
Then, I started to simmer out and just as I was trying to turn the heat up again, I walked away.
2019 was a bitch of a year. And 2018 was even worse. In June of 2018, I found out we were pregnant with our second child. In August of 2018, I found out that child was going to be our second daughter. In September of 2018, I found out she had died in utero and I had no choice but to deliver her prematurely.
Her name was Olivia Michelle, and her loss gutted me. I don’t even think I knew at the time how much I was hurting, but after her loss and the trauma of her delivery, I had no choice but to strip my life down to the bare minimum and build back up from there. This site has always been important to me, but it was something that required extra emotional energy I didn’t have at the time. And, frankly, I wasn’t able or willing to put myself out there any more than I had to.
Then, in January of 2019, I found out I was pregnant again, this time with a son. After losing a baby at 17 weeks pregnant when you think you’re in the “safe zone,” entering another pregnancy pretty much means you’ll never feel safe again, so I spent most of 2019 just trying to put one foot in front of the other. I still wasn’t ready to open myself up on here.
Then, in October, Landon Michael was born. Full term, healthy, and – to date – the happiest baby I’ve ever met. I don’t think I even realized how worried I was until he was here, and the relief was palpable. People see me and look at pictures of me now and tell me how different I look because I just look so calm. And I feel calm, mostly. But, occasionally, I’m still really sad and anxious and all the things that come along with losing a baby you desperately wanted.
So, I haven’t come back here. Well, that’s not entirely true. I’ve come back and done the necessary updates to the site with the intention of writing, but then I’ve just stared at the blank new post window and I’ve never been able to figure out where to start. And then a baby cries or a five-year-old needs something and I close the laptop with a promise that I’ll try again later. Couple all of this with the fact that blogs seem to be dying and I haven’t really found the motivation.
But writing has always been my “thing.” It’s been my way of making sense of the world, and getting all that stuff out of me that I can’t keep inside. I’ve missed having that outlet. So I thought about trying to start journaling, but there’s something about having an actual audience that is so powerful.
I turned to crafting. To running. To yoga. To meditation. To teaching. To my relationships. To reading. To therapy. But nothing seemed to hold the same healing power for me that writing does.
I just finished editing a dear friend’s memoir, and I found myself wondering, Why am I not writing something? I always thought there were enough feminist voices out there, and enough teacher-writers, and enough people writing about marriage and motherhood that mine would just be another drop in an infinite bucket.
But I’ve experienced something less than 3% of women have experienced. I lost a baby in the second trimester. And not only that, I picked myself up and put one foot in front of the other and did it again, knowing it could all happen again. And not only that, but I remain staunchly pro-choice, even as I lost what I considered a life. And we are in the middle of the biggest fight we’ve had in as long as I can remember to keep our access to women’s reproductive healthcare.
I’ve spent the better part of two years telling myself that my voice isn’t special. That I don’t have anything important to say. That I need to focus on other, more important things in my life.
Well, it’s a new decade. And this is my space; it’s a space I’ve worked hard to carve out for myself. So I’m going to continue to use it however I want, even if I’m not entirely sure what that looks like yet.
Because I’m important. And what I have to say is important. And I deserve this space. And I hope you’ll join me for whatever is in store.
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Showcase for Peace
April 26th, 2018Last night, students at Joliet Central – the high school where I work – held the first annual Showcase for Peace: Joliet students creatively expressing their stance on gun violence. We had students submit poetry, essays, stories, songs, artwork, and photographs about their experience with and thoughts on gun violence, and they presented it on stage in our student center.
As you might imagine, the night was amazing. And I’m not surprised… exactly. As with any large event open to the community, I was nervous. I knew the kids would show up and be amazing, like they always are – especially with things they are passionate about – but I didn’t know how much of an audience we’d have. Our community can be difficult to reach for a lot of reasons. If these kids were going to share their work about this important issue, I wanted to be sure that a ton of people showed up to hear and see it.
And then, as we were setting up, one of the girls who had clearly spent an enormous amount of time on her work for the event was there. She had hand-written her poems, copied them larger, and mounted them on cork board with tacks in school colors. She had then glued 17 pieces of shiny material on one, and 17 battery-operated tea light candles on the other as tributes to those lost in Parkland. When she had submitted her work, she told us she just wanted it displayed, that she was too nervous to read it aloud.
But before the event, as we were all running around trying to get the jumbo screen on, and the mic to work, and the artwork hung, I saw her standing in front of her work with a man’s arm around her – maybe her father or brother? I walked over and overheard her talking about picking one to read, so I asked if she would like to be added to the program, and she said she would. The look on the man’s face was one of absolute pride, and she was so excited.
Not surprisingly, she read beautifully. Perhaps also not surprisingly, we had an excellent turnout to hear it. But in that quiet moment before everything started, I realized it didn’t even matter who was there in the audience. I’m not sure if her life had been affected by gun violence (though I could see from the effort she put into her work and the look on her and the man’s face, she probably had), but even that didn’t matter in that moment. This girl had written what was in her heart, her family was intensely proud of her, and – even more important – she was proud of herself. I could have gone home right then and called it all a success. I am, of course, glad I didn’t, because there were moments like that all night, and I was so fortunate to be witness to them.
This generation will save us, and we do not deserve them.
Featured Image: Teachers on the planning committee for the event, holding student-created protest signs used at the March 14 walkout.
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A Sew-Fragettes Scholarship Update
April 9th, 2018Most of you all have been around here for a while, so you already know about my side business and venture to provide a yearly, $1,000 scholarship for a girl in need at the school where I teach. But I wanted to pop in today to talk a little bit more about that venture, and give everyone an update.
Simply put, Sew-fragettes aims to offer unique, handmade accessories for women, particularly those interested in the betterment of women’s lives. Not only are the themes of the accessories woman-centered, but all profits go to provide a scholarship to one graduating female senior enrolled in college the next year.
Around 75% of the students at my school live below the poverty line. For them, education is a way to better their lives, but many of them have difficulties affording college. I am trying to help one girl each year who is passionate about women’s rights by giving her a scholarship of $1,000. Applicants will have to be enrolled in a 4-year university, and will have to write a short essay about how they have bettered the lives of women in their school or community. Every penny over the cost of what it takes to produce the items in this shop will contribute to the scholarship fund. I am not making any money off of this shop.
This year, I was not able to make it to my $1,000 goal. The people in charge of district scholarships at my school needed to know how much money I had in order to develop the scholarship program in time, and I needed to take a break after a personally hectic holiday season. However, I was able to raise $500 in less than 6 months, so I am really happy with this first year, and it is my mission to reach my $1,000 goal for next school year.
The idea for this was born when I saw that Spoonflower – an upscale fabric company that custom prints fabric, wallpaper, and gift wrap – had some users upload some awesome, feminist designs. I decided to get some two-toned infinity scarves printed, sew them up, and sell them to friends with the proceeds going to Planned Parenthood. I was able to raise over $80 for Planned Parenthood. So, when I was looking for a way to raise money for a scholarship, I thought that starting up an Etsy shop to sell these things might be the way to go. I decided to offer pouches and tote bags with some of the same designs as either matching bundles or separates.
Almost every time I listed a product, it sold out. I couldn’t keep up, so I decided to start doing custom work. This worked well because it allowed me to collect money upfront and not go into any debt with the shop. It also allowed me to give my customers exactly what they wanted.
As you might imagine, these were popular items for gifts over the holidays, so I was incredibly busy. I also didn’t really have a budget or a business plan in place, so I was just shooting some things in the dark and seeing what stuck. After that chaos, and some other personal stuff, I needed to take some time off to regroup.
Moving forward, I’ve spent some time working on my brand. I have a new Instagram, Facebook, and Pinterest for you to follow to get the latest news and styles. (I’ve got an email newsletter, too, if that’s more your thing.) I’ve ordered new business cards and tags. I’ve been testing out new fabrics like the gorgeous chiffon pictured above. I’ve also found that one of everyone’s favorite designs was the Ruth Bader Ginsberg fabric, which I actually designed myself! So I’ve been trying my hand at creating more custom fabric (pictured below) and would love to do some collaborations with independent artists (so if you know any, send them my way!)
I can’t wait to see where this venture takes me. I hope it becomes a sustainable option for I’m almost ready to list some awesome new items in my shop, and I’ll be participating in a local feminist craft/art show in May. I have a plan for listing new items every month, and I plan to keep up the custom orders, as well.
So, drop in. Follow this journey. Shop for some stuff. Do some good!
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Sean Penn is Not an Author of Literary Merit
April 6th, 2018I am a woman and I study and teach literature. Until relatively recently in my life, this has seemed a pretty normal, womanly thing to do. Not only am I a teacher – a typically female profession – but I teach literature as opposed to science or math, and literature is definitely a female-dominated field.
All of this is true, until you think how amazing it is that women are interested in any kind of literature at all. Think about it: What authors did you read in your formative years? F. Scott Fitzgerald? J.D. Salinger? William Shakespeare? I could go on, but I’d guess you’re sensing a theme here. We spend a lot of time now looking for books that appeal to certain demographics to engage them in literature, but that wasn’t a thing when I was growing up, and I’m guessing it wasn’t for you, either, if you’re reading this. I’d say I was on the tail end of the dead white guy canon. I didn’t see myself in literature. But, somehow, I loved it anyway.
It really wasn’t until I got to college that my world was opened up. I was introduced to the writing of modern, female authors: Jorie Graham, Olena Kalytiak Davis. I was also introduced to writers of color, LGBTQ writers, male writers who do not espouse what we now call toxic masculinity.
And yet, there was still this pull to appreciate writers writing the same old toxic male bullshit. I will never forget the time that I was sitting and talking to one of my fellow (male) English major peers about Charles Bukowski. “Isn’t he brilliant?” he was saying, “The way he writes so eloquently about these bodily functions and builds to his poetic climax here. It’s just so gorgeous.” Um… no, I thought. Bodily functions are gross and I don’t see what is so brilliant about talking about shit in poetry. But I nodded and played along. I even tried to model some of my own poetry after Bukowski’s because it seemed like The Thing to Do. Needless to say, that phase didn’t last long – though I still have 3 of his books on my bookshelves.
The idea of crotchety old men thinking they have something brilliant to say is nothing new, which is why, when I saw that Sean Penn was promoting his new book, Bob Honey Who Just Do Stuff, (I kid you not, this is the title of his literary masterpiece.) on The Daily Show, I watched the opening two comedic segments and turned to something else for the interview. I’m not a fan of Sean Penn. His acting doesn’t move me, he is a known abuser of women, and I’ve never been one to subscribe to the idea that fame equals talent in multiple (or any) fields. Needless to say, I have not read his book but, luckily, I don’t need to. Not only do I already know it’s probably crap, but other, more talented reviewers have read it for me already. Claire Fallon wrote a brilliant review over at The Huffington Post, which is definitely worth a read all the way through. Here’s my favorite part:
As I read Bob Honey, I couldn’t stop thinking of Lili Loofbourow’s recent, brilliant Virginia Quarterly Review essay, “The Male Glance,” which argues that we refuse to read genius, or even artistic intentionality, into works by women. The flip side is that we do readily presume those things in the works of men. Her central example of the latter phenomenon was the first season of “True Detective,” which was “analyzed and investigated to the point of parody — so much so that, in the aftermath, multiple critics wrote articles about their experiences of so badly overreading the show’s ambitions.”
I sincerely believe that no serious critic will embrace Bob Honey as credulously and breathlessly as critics embraced “True Detective” ? the literary world is suspicious of hobbyist celebrity authors ? but Penn’s already been offered more benefit of the doubt than he’s earned, and more than any equivalent actress would receive. He joins a select crew of successful white male actors who think they have very literary things to say, and who have therefore been offered hardcover book deals with blurbs by Salman Rushdie.
She goes on to say that “Y’all: We don’t have to do this.” We don’t have to continue to give toxic men a platform just because they’ve won some awards and have a recognizable name. We don’t have to keep pretending that these toxic men have some kind of latent brilliance us laymen (laywomen?) can’t possibly begin to understand.
I agree. It is no secret that I love Catcher in the Rye, for example, but that love has changed distinctly from the wide-eyed love of a 15-year-old who has read her first coming of age novel with a stream of consciousness narrator to the love of an adult English literature teacher who thinks we have something to learn from Holden – and Salinger – and that something is not about phonies or teenage angst, but rather the way we treat young men who don’t fit the mold, and the way those young men tend to develop toxic relationships with women (as evidenced in the text). And, at least Salinger exhibited some talent in the area of writing, as opposed to some of what we are seeing published today where fame drives publication rather than the other way around.
Do we have anything to learn from Sean Penn? Maybe. Probably not. I doubt his oeuvre will stand the test of time. So I, for one, will not even be picking up Bob Honey from the library. Life is too short to read bad books.
Featured Image Credit: UNclimatechange on Flickr
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Let the Kids Lead
March 15th, 2018Last week, as I was getting my hair cut, the stylist next to me was cutting the hair of a middle-aged man and was saying, “I don’t know, though. We have to listen to these kids. It seems like they’re fed up, and I don’t blame them.”
I was a little surprised to hear this in the salon, a typically apolitical place, but everyone everywhere has an opinion about guns in schools now, it seems.
The man responded, “Oh, please. They’re kids. Did you know that the average teenager in today’s society can’t even name the last three presidents? I tried talking to my teenage niece about Johnny Carson the other day and she had no idea who I was even talking about! They just don’t know anything.”
I raised an eyebrow and glanced at my stylist – a woman I’ve known for over a decade – in the mirror. She rolled her eyes slightly. I muttered, sarcastically and perhaps a little too loudly, “Yes, because not knowing who a dead celebrity is definitely means kids can’t talk intelligently about their safety.”
As a high school teacher, I have these conversations more often than I’d like. It’s a popular sentiment to disparage Millenials and their younger Gen Z counterparts. They are, after all, upending everything we thought we knew about the American Dream, consumerism, and social norms, and change is difficult, especially for the older crowd. But, even though I deal with common issues like kids sneaking text messages in the middle of a lesson or listening to loud music with their headphones in the hallways, I recognize that my students are uniquely qualified to talk intelligently and passionately about issues that concern them, and at this moment in history, that includes school safety.
Student anger especially makes adults uncomfortable. It is often raw and emotional; it lacks the finesse and thoughtfulness we gain with age and experience. It is also often reactionary and sometimes spontaneous, making it unpredictable. As such, adults often scramble to find ways to shut that anger down before it can boil over. Sometimes, this can be a good thing; when their anger comes from an emotional reaction, it can take adult intervention to teach them a more productive way of dealing with their emotions. I would argue, though, that while the anger and frustration of the survivors of the Parkland shooting – as well as their counterparts walking out of schools and staging protests across the nation – seems purely reactionary, it is, in fact, the result of an entire lifetime of lockdown drills, false alarms, and intense news coverage of mass shooting after mass shooting coupled with their leaders’ predictable and frustrating inaction.
In the wake of these student protests, I have seen many responses from teachers and administrators ranging from complete support to doubling down on questionably legal punishments. Most often, adults who do not support this student movement are either trying to redirect the attention away from the students – as was the case with the ad hominem attack the man next to me at the salon employed – or redirect the students toward other ways to channel (or, more likely, stifle) their anger, such as programs that are more preferable – from an adult perspective – to the walkouts.
I would argue that ignoring and redirecting student anger is a mistake. There is a huge historical precedent for effective student protests, from the marches and boycotts of the Civil Rights movement demanding equality for all races, to the East LA walkouts during which Latinx students protested against unfair treatment in the Los Angeles Unified School District high schools, to the protests against the Vietnam War – and these are just some of the most famous in the United States. These protests were all incredibly effective; after student protesters were killed at Kent State University during a protest of the Vietnam War, for example, students showed solidarity and shutdown 450 campuses nationwide, and incensed over 4 million student protesters. Every one of these protests resulted in significant changes in policy, both locally and nationally.
If we can agree that something needs to change regarding guns and gun culture in this country, and polls show that the majority of Americans believe this to be true, we need to let the students lead the way. Not only have these kids had an entire lifetime to think and get angry about how ridiculous it is that they should have to fear for their lives when entering a school building, they also have access to a wider knowledge base about amplifying messages and maintaining this momentum than adults ever will. This is their movement and their time, and just as they need to sit with their anger and let it direct their action, adults need to sit with their discomfort about that anger and either step aside or get on board.
Can’t Turn It Off
March 7th, 2018Ever since the Parkland shooting, I have been feeling progressively worse. I’m not really sure how to describe it, but it started with a feeling like someone was standing on my chest. Then, it was almost like a balloon had been inflated in my lungs and needed to pop. That balloon is still there. Then, I started feeling short of breath and a little dizzy.
It’s not all the time, which leads me to believe this is a physical manifestation of something mental rather than something inherently physical. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I should go to the doctor.
But it’s mostly when I’m in school. Or when reading the news. Or when perusing Facebook and Twitter… and even Instagram these days.
So, kind of all the time. But there are moments when I can turn it off, if I turn everything else off, too.
I’ve been a teacher for over a decade. I entered into this profession when lockdown drills were already a part of life. I watched news of the Virginia Tech shooting in the teachers’ lounge during my first year of teaching. During my second, I was sitting in the auditorium, running a rehearsal while checking in on friends at NIU during that Valentine’s Day shooting. I was stuffing envelopes for a Speech tournament in the athletic office when the secretary started streaming news of Sandy Hook. I’ve been locked down twice myself, and I’ve sat worried during another.
All of this is to say that this isn’t new for me.
It’s not new to hear stories about kids dying because of gun violence or mass shootings. It’s not new to hear of the heroic actions of teachers working – and dying – to save their students. (It’s not even new to think about how I would act in that same situation, knowing that it could be real soon enough.) It’s not new to demand armed guards in schools. It’s not new to suggest arming teachers.
So why does it feel like all of this is happening for the first time? Why am I having so much trouble looking away, turning it off, resuming normal activity?
Is it because these amazing kids from Parkland are fighting tooth and nail to make change? Is it because the political climate is such that we all seem to have the permission to protest again, and we are taking advantage of that to make waves? Is it because, this time, we have a president who has suggested arming teachers, not just some fringe conservative talking heads?
I don’t have an answer. All I know is that my stress relief tea, lavender bath salts, and essential oils are only going so far. Even wine isn’t melting these feelings away like it usually does.
Because I don’t want to carry a gun. I don’t want my students to live in fear of going to school. And I don’t want to die just because I showed up at work.
Featured Image Credit: MarylandGovPics
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The Children’s Crusade
February 22nd, 2018It is so short and jumbled and jangled, Sam, because there is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre. Everybody is supposed to be dead, to never say anything or want anything ever again. Everything is supposed to be very quiet after a massacre, and it always is, except for the birds.
And what do the birds say? All there is to say about a massacre, things like “Poo-tee-weet?”
I have told my sons that they are not under any circumstances to take part in massacres, and that the news of massacres of enemies is not to fill them with satisfaction or glee.
I have also told them not to work for companies which make massacre machinery, and to express contempt for people who think we need machinery like that.
-Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five
I would like to leave this quote here without saying anything about it. I would like for it to speak for itself. For it to just be there and true and heartbreaking enough that the words will just settle in to the space in your chest and live there and continue to be true and heartbreaking.
I wish words like this made a difference. Resonated more. Spent more time tumbling around in the space between the heart and lungs, that space that aches with longing for love and words like this.
That space now is filled with thoughts about shootings and massacres. Again. Those who have been lost in them, and those who perpetuate them. I feel like I have so much I want to say, but I’m fighting against what feels like the futility of saying it.
“You know what I say to people when I hear they’re writing anti-war books?”
“No. What do you say, Harrison Starr?”
“I say, ‘Why don’t you write an anti-glacier book instead?'”
What he meant, of course, was that there would always be wars, that they were as easy to stop as glaciers. I believe that, too.
-Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five
And it feels so futile, because it feels like I’ve been saying these words over and over again for years. Because I have.
I have participated in lockdown drills and real lockdowns since I started teaching in 2008. Yes, they are just as terrifying as you might imagine.
A school shooting for a teacher is just different. If I’m in a public place and someone starts shooting, you better believe I’m running away from it. If I’m in school with my students, you better believe I’m running towards it. Why? That’s. My. Job.
No, I do not want teachers to have guns. No, I would not take a gun if one were offered to me. More than that; I would quit my job if guns were allowed on my campus.
Students and teachers are not soldiers. Schools should not be war zones.
***
I’m re-reading Slaughterhouse-Five with my seniors. I assigned it on a whim; it’s short and will fit in this awkward space we have before spring break. I didn’t think much about its relevancy or poignancy. I just thought it was a good book with literary merit and weird enough to keep their attention before a break and then graduation.
I had forgotten how its words pierce your chest. And I hadn’t thought they would relate so well to the current state of affairs in American schools.
It’s an anti-war book, after all. Not an anti-guns-in-schools book.
But isn’t this a war? In a way?
***
“You were just babies in the war – like the ones upstairs!”
I nodded that this was true. We had been foolish virgins in the war, right at the end of childhood.
“But you’re not going to write it that way, are you… You’ll pretend you were men instead of babies, and you’ll be played in the movies by Frank Sinatra and John Wayne or some of those other glamorous, war-loving, dirty old men. And war will look just wonderful, so we’ll have a lot more of them. And they’ll be fought by babies like the babies upstairs.”
-Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five
It doesn’t matter that these kids in Parkland weren’t technically babies like the ones in Sandy Hook. They are still kids. Except it does matter this time, because these kids are older. Wiser. Louder. Just as sad, but more pissed off.
And thank God for that.
Because this is their crusade now. It shouldn’t have had to be, but it is. And their activism and passion are going to keep the fight in the spotlight.
Vonnegut argues in Slaughterhouse-Five that there is no free will. That each moment exists simultaneously with each other moment for all of past, present, and future. That a person who is dead in one moment is having an unfortunate time in that moment, but is perfectly fine in plenty of other moments. So it goes.
I would argue otherwise. That politicians have an option whether or not to take money from the NRA. That these kids experienced this incredible tragedy and had the option to pass the bodies of their dead friends on the ground and say, “So it goes” or to rise up, speak up, and demand change.
Lucky for us, these kids chose the latter.
Now’s the time to join them. This is the Children’s Crusade of this century. And I am here for it. I am here with it.
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Three Actual Lockdowns
February 15th, 2018Comments Off on Three Actual Lockdowns
Teaching Tolerance: Discussing Sexual Harassment in the Classroom
December 1st, 2017I’m over at Teaching Tolerance talking about ways teachers can talk about the recent sexual harassment allegations saturating the media:
If the conversation about sexual harassment and assault doesn’t come up organically, there are a number of ways to incorporate it into your classroom. Some teachers may prefer to explicitly pause the normal curriculum to have a discussion about this important topic. Others may make it part of a current events or social justice unit, and still others might prefer to frame the discussion with historical context. Since these allegations have everything to do with power, this discussion can be related to almost anything: who has power and who doesn’t, how those with power wield it, what they feel they can get away with and how those with even more power cover it up. Historical figures, literary characters, political leaders and the like can all provide an excellent segue into talking about these current, real-life allegations.
Read the whole thing here.
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Handmade Handmaids: A Tutorial
July 13th, 2017When I saw the protesters in Texas dressed like Handmaids protesting restrictive abortion laws, I knew I had a new life goal.
I mean, think about it. This protest marries literally every single one of my interests. Books. Feminism. Protesting. Politics. Sticking it to the man. Theatrics. Crafts (because CLEARLY I would make my own Handmaid costume).
So, duh. I had to do it, right? There was only one problem… I live in the great blue state of Illinois. All that stuff about calling your reps to voice discontent and stuff? I hardly ever get the chance. Give or take, every single politician that represents me is a Democrat. We also have some of the best healthcare laws for women in the Midwest.
But I was getting jealous. These Handmaids kept popping up all over the place. Ohio. DC. They even greeted Donald Trump IN POLAND, which is so badass I can’t even believe it.
When, oh when, was it going to be my turn? Would I have to go to another state to participate? Because I would. I soooooo would.
And then it happened. Remember how I just extolled Illinois’ cool-hued virtues? Well, that’s true with one (kind of important?) exception – our Governor is a Republican. Don’t ask me how this happened. It certainly wasn’t because of me, who hauled her 9-months-pregnant ass to the polls the day before her due date to vote for the other guy.
Side note: Rauner, our governor, is not only a Republican; he is a business man-turned-politician who had zero political experience before he took office. Shortly afterwards, Illinois went almost three years without a budget, is now in some of the worst debt it’s ever been in, and he’s hiring reporters from Breitbart to manage his next campaign. This might explain why Illinois was a beacon of blue amongst a bunch of midwestern red in this past presidential election because, you know, we LEARNED OUR LESSON.
But as far as women’s rights went, Rauner wasn’t supposed to be that bad. He was pro-choice! I could work with that…?
Until he started playing party politics. You’d think he’d wise up since he’s up for reelection shortly and Illinois almost always landslides for the Democrats but, you know, his choice.
Enter HB 40: A bill that deals with healthcare, but the sticking point here is that it ensures that women will have access to abortion in Illinois if Roe v. Wade is overturned.
It made it through the House. It made it through the Senate.
And, you guessed it, Rauner says he is going to veto it.
So, on Monday, I saw an event on Facebook. A group of women, dressed as Handmaids, were going to go to the Thompson Center in Chicago – Rauner’s Chicago office building – and protest.
This. Was. My. Chance.
The group was already formed, but I took a shot, emailed the organizer, asked if I could sew my own robe and join, and she said: “Absolutely!” And then, I asked if my friend, Julia, could join too. And she said: “The more the merrier!”
YES.
So, I set out to find tutorials for making a Handmaid costume and was literally shocked to find that there weren’t really very many out there.
Something as silly as that isn’t going to stop me, though! And now it won’t stop you, either, because you’ll have this comprehensive (and quick!) tutorial to be your guide. Praise be!
(Let’s see how many Handmaid’s Tale jokes I can make in this tutorial, shall we?)
Supplies:
For this tutorial, you will need at least a basic knowledge of sewing, and it really helps if you have a serger. I needed to make five robes in one day, so I cut a lot of corners. I’m going to show you how to make these the quick-and-dirty way, but if you are an expert seamstress, you may want to add some fancy finishes to really up the ante. I know how to do these things, but I was also comfortable with the fact that these would probably get worn once and no one was going to be close enough to see how janky they were. Done is better than perfect, and blessed be the fruit… of my labors.
I was also comfortable making these on the cheap. I bought this red broadcloth from Joann’s for $3/yard. Broadcloth gets a bad rap, and for good reason: It looks like crap and should really only ever be used for something low-stakes like this. You get what you pay for.
First, you need to figure out how much fabric you need. Take your measuring tape and measure from your shoulder to your ankle. You don’t want to trip over this thing and become some kind of internet meme, so you don’t want it dragging on the ground. Then, multiply that measurement by 2. Convert it into yards, add a half yard, and that’s how much fabric you need.
We’re just handmaids, so we can’t do a lot of math, right? So here’s my example:
-55 inches from shoulder to ankle. 55 x 2 = 110
-110 divided by 12 (inches) = 9.16 (feet)
-9.16 divided by 3 (feet) = 3.05 (yards) + 1/2 yard = 3.5 yards (I rounded. It’s fine.)
What you see below is 9 yards worth of fabric. I got 2 adult robes, 2 toddler robes, and 1 baby robe out of that amount.
Once you have your fabric, I highly recommend you leave it folded in half. It’s a lot of fabric, and unfolding and re-folding that much fabric is going to get tedious. If you’re an avid sewist, you probably know to pre-wash your fabric and all of that, but we are trying to do this quickly and easily and you will probably never wash this thing, so don’t worry about it. Or do. Maybe you want to avoid the red LITERALLY bleeding like an infertile handmaid onto the clothes you are wearing underneath. I did not have that problem, but you never know. Your costume, your choice.
So, fold your fabric in half lengthwise (or keep it folded) and then fold it in half width-wise. From the bottom cut edge of the fabric to the top folded edge should equal your shoulder-to-ankle measurement (mine was 55 inches). Cut off that extra 1/2 yard and save it for your hood.
Next, most robe tutorials will say you need to lie down and draw from the selvedge edges (the long side that isn’t the fold) to your armpit. I tried that. It didn’t work because how was I going to draw on the fabric while lying down? And yes, I am wearing my Women’s March t-shirt to make my Handmaid’s protest robe. #Resist2017
Instead, what I did was I got a long-sleeved shirt from my closet, folded it in half, placed the fold on the fold of the fabric, and drew that way. Go in on a diagonal up to the armpit, then come out again on the way down. Cut this out. Give yourself some space on the sleeves; Handmaids aren’t supposed to be sexy, so this stuff should pretty much hide your shape. Then, on the top, cut a little area out from the fold to just before the armpit for your head. 
At this point, you may want to try it on to be sure you are doing it right. I did this because, while I didn’t need it to be perfect, I did need it to fit. It fit, but I felt weird about taking the picture with the timer. I think you can probably tell.
Now, the internet is full of advice about this next step. Do you sew the side seams first or cut it open first? I did not know that this was such a fiercely debated topic because I didn’t read much of the internet before I started this as I was trying to get in character and Handmaids are not allowed to read. (Just kidding. I am lazy.) So I cut first. In retrospect, it would have been much easier the other way around. Live and learn.
You’re cutting right up the middle of the front side of this thing. You need it to open, so this is a good place for it to do that. This is also probably a good place for a “may the Lord open” joke so… there you go.
Next, you are going to want to sew this thing together. This is where the serger comes in handy. I serged EVERYTHING. Side seams from bottom all the way to the end of the sleeves. Neck opening. Bottom. Up each side of the opening.) I did not finish any seams (the serger did that for me) or hem anything (the sleeves were on the selvedges so they didn’t need it, and the neck opening/bottom/front opening were serged so I didn’t have to.) If you don’t have a serger… sorry. This is going to take a little longer because you have to hem all the cut edges so the fabric doesn’t fray.
Next, you need a hood. Take your leftover fabric and trace out something that roughly looks like a hood. Do not be a perfectionist about this; you are not even going to wear the hood. It is for visual only, under His eye. Cut two pieces. Serge these together from the top to the bottom. Then, open it up and serge across the bottom. Again, if you don’t have a serger, do your thing to finish those cut edges.
Pin the right side of the open hood to the right side of the back of the robe. Sew it on.
Then, tack a piece of ribbon to each side of your opening. Originally, I had the ribbon in the middle, then I realized I wanted it closed a little more, so I put one ribbon in the middle and one at the bottom of the hood on the other side. Then, I sewed a hook-and-eye to the inside flap so it would stay closed.
May the Lord open, indeed.
Next, we are on to the hat. Without this hat, you’re just a grown-up Little Red Riding Hood, which is a little weird because it is not Halloween.
This is where you could save a ton of time by just buying a pre-made bonnet and following this video tutorial. (The jig is up. I stole some of her jokes for this post. I am not sorry.) Even Amazon Prime wasn’t fast enough for this turnaround, though, (and those bad boys are like $8/piece which, considering I spent $3 on all of the fabric I needed for 5 bonnets, seemed not very frugal) so I had to make my own. There are a million bonnet tutorials on Pinterest that look a lot better than this, and I probably should have used one of those, but it was getting late, I was tired, so this is what I did.
First, measure your head from under your ear, up over your head, to under your other ear. Add an inch. Then cut a square with that measurement. Mine was 19 inches on each side. Equal sides, equal rights. Be there or be… ok you get it.
A rotary cutter is awesome for this. Or use scissors. It really doesn’t matter.
Next, fold in each side a quarter inch or so, then again another quarter inch or so. Press. I’m not going to lie – I didn’t measure when I was folding. Just eyeball it.
Sew all the sides down, just like you would a hem. You’ve essentially created a large handkercheif. 
Then, on one side and using your machine’s longest stitch, sew a line of basting stitches. Leave the tails long. You’re going to gather this as much as you can, so take the bobbin thread, hold it, and gather that sucker up. Tie the threads together at the bottom.
This is the back of your bonnet.
But it looks weird, right? Right. So fold that front edge over about 3-3.5 inches. You can try it on your head to see what you like. Press it.
Then, cut two pieces of white ribbon – one for each side. Sandwich one at the corner between the bonnet and the rim and tack it into place. Repeat on the other side.
Cute, right? And you can stop there, but I wanted to be authentic. So, take your stiff material – I used the foam board – and draw a shape that looks roughly like this:
Cut it out. Then, put one side of the Velcro on the bottom (shorter) edge. Lay the other side of the Velcro on top with the sticky side exposed.
Put your bonnet on, then slap those wings on your head and push down and you are done!
I am fully aware this looks ridiculous. I cut more off of it because, while likely accurate, I also needed to be able to see things for, you know, safety. It’s not an exact science; just do what feels right to you.
Finally, try the toddler robe on your small daughter and feel really good about your handiwork, but also really disturbed by the fact that your 2.5-year-old is dressed as a walking uterus. 
This protest was one of the most powerful and visually striking protests I have ever either witnessed or been a part of. I am so honored that I was able to participate, and so excited that my costumes turned out so well.
NOLITE TE BASTARDES CARBORUNDORUM
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Sew-fragettes: Supporting 21st Century Girls with 19th Century Crafts
July 2nd, 2017If you’ve followed me for any length of time here, you know that I love sewing and knitting. You might even remember my ill-advised last attempt at opening an Etsy shop…
I think I figured out what was wrong with that attempt. You see, I don’t really need more money. (I mean, who doesn’t need more money, right? But we’re happy and comfortable and I like my job, so… not me.) I craft for fun, and for charity.
And then, it dawned on me. Craft for charity! I’m passionate about girls’ education. That is my number one issue when it comes to feminism. I’m a teacher, right? So it makes sense. But around 75% of my girls live under the poverty line. Education is a way out for them, but it is becoming more and more of a distant possibility with the rising costs of college. Make no mistake about it: these girls are more than capable to receive a college education. Many of them are accepted to several four-year universities each year, but can’t figure out how to afford them and so they end up getting a job or attending community college.
So I want to use my crafting for good. I want to provide at least a $1,000 scholarship to a local girl each year. And I’m using this new Etsy shop to help do that.
Every penny of profit I’m making from this shop is going towards this yearly scholarship, and most of the designs I will have available will be feminist-inspired. So you can wear your feminist pride while knowing you helped do something good in the world. It doesn’t get much better than that, does it?
I decided to start small to see how it goes, so right now there isn’t a ton of stuff, but I will soon have more scarves, totes, and splash-proof zipper pouches, all with feminist designs. I also take custom orders, so hit me up if you want something!
Take a look, buy some stuff, do some good. Thanks for your support!
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Everyone’s Body Fails
June 27th, 2017I have a body.
For the most part, I like this body. When I want it to dance, it dances. When I want it to pick up my child, it picks up my child. When I want it to breathe in fresh air, it breathes in fresh air. It exists in the world. It takes up space. Sure, it takes up more space than it used to, and my back aches in ways it never did before. This is the price my body pays for childbearing, for aging. So I dance, I play, I salute the sun. I manage.
When I was pregnant, my body worked beautifully. It grew – round and full. It sheltered. It protected. When I laughed, my belly shook with the joy and hope that only new life can bring. It moved and kicked with something that was not me, but of me.
And then, my body failed.
I did not go into labor. My induced labor stalled. I required surgery to remove my child. I couldn’t breastfeed.
My body had betrayed me. My mind had done all the preparations, all the calculations, and it had never occurred to me that my body wouldn’t follow instructions. It had always been a bit of an overachiever before.
It took me a full year to come to terms with the fact that this needed to happen. That I got exactly the birth experience I needed to have. That I had to learn the first and greatest lesson in parenting, and I had to learn it fast:
You will fail. And everything will be fine.
After an F on an Algebra test in 8th grade, I had never failed at anything. It had never occurred to me that failure was an option.
For a full year after my body failed us, I contemplated the obvious. We could have died in childbirth when my body refused to go into labor, if this were decades ago. She could have died from my lack of milk supply, if this were centuries ago.
Before this, I never had to spend much time in doctors’ offices. I’ve read that it’s not uncommon for the bulk of a young woman’s experiences with the medical profession to be during her childbearing years. And all of a sudden, I was seeing doctors and specialists every other day. Checking my scar, worried about depression and anxiety, trying to get the milk flowing, checking her weight. My doctor’s office and hers became a refuge where I was not judged. I was only helped.
I never once thought about how much this would all cost. We had insurance, and we needed care, so we got care.
When she turned one – almost to the day – I remember the world opening up again. I cried my way through a yoga class that morning, reliving memories of surgery and struggle I never though I’d have, and then it was like I could breathe again. Only, I didn’t know I couldn’t really breathe before because it had been so long.
For the year following that, I didn’t think much about it anymore. I excelled at work. I had this amazing, funny, smart daughter so, even amidst my failures, I must have done something right. My marriage seemed back on track after the stresses of literally just keeping this child alive each day. We started talking about a second, since the first was so wonderful. We had always said we would survive the first one before even thinking about a second. We weren’t just surviving; we were thriving. We talked about waiting, trying to see if we could plan for a summer baby. We are teachers, after all. Maybe we could make that work.
I didn’t think about my body and its failings again until May. I had learned my lesson. My body had failed, and it was fine. My body was stronger where it had been broken. I was weirdly proud of my c-section and the visible badge I now carried below my belt. I had come to see my experience as lesson rather than failure; as part of the journey rather than end goal.
In May, I sat in my classroom and cried. A friend came in the room and saw the news on my computer that the House had passed their version of a healthcare bill. Among many, many other issues much more serious than mine, my body was going to cost us money, and a lot of it. Enough of it that I wasn’t sure we could afford this second child we had talked about, that we had dared to allow ourselves to desperately want, even if it meant another surgery. Another failing body. Another 10 pounds. Another year of not being able to breathe.
I was heartbroken. I was thrown into a place yet again where I was considering my scar, feeling the full weight of my body on my mind, contemplating failure, feeling less than I should.
“The Senate will never pass it. Not as-is.” This was what I was told. What we told ourselves.
Now it’s June and the Senate might pass it. It has changed some, but not enough, and not in a good way as far as I can see. It might affect my body – the one I struggled to see as strong, beautiful, amazing – in this great, blue state of Illinois with my excellent insurance from my excellent employer. It might not. Regardless, it will hurt more than it helps. It will devastate families. It will devastate women. Because we have bodies that grow other bodies, and sometimes those bodies don’t work exactly the way they are supposed to.
What this bill fails to take into account is that everyone’s body fails at some point. It’s the human condition. It’s what connects us all.
This shouldn’t be a death sentence, or a path to financial ruin.
I hope and pray and send all of my energy up to whatever being there is that this won’t pass. That we won’t be destroyed. If one good thing comes out of this mess of a year, I hope it is that.
I hope the failure of this bill vindicates the failure of our bodies once and for all.
Public Schools Offer Amazing Opportunities – and Here’s an Example
May 23rd, 2017I was driving to work this morning, listening to WBEZ (like I do most days), trying not to cry (like I do most days). But my ears perked up when I heard something about a school in Joliet.
Now, I don’t talk about my specific place of work very often, if at all. And I do that on purpose – you know I’m a teacher, you know I’m in the southwest Chicago suburbs and you don’t really need to know much more than that.
But this got me going this morning, because WBEZ misreported the story, and it is an awesome story. Our STEM students designed and 3D printed a prosthetic hand for a young boy, and this week, they presented it to him. WBEZ did say it was Joliet Central toward the end of the story, but they started the blurb by saying that it was a Catholic school.
This is important because Joliet Catholic Academy is also in Joliet, and gets a lot of attention (for example: Rudy and football). From what I know (which isn’t much), it is a great school, and also in Joliet as the name suggests, but it is not the school where the hand was designed, 3D printed, and presented to a young boy who needed it. That happened at Joliet Central.
Joliet Central High School is a public school. Our demographic makeup is 17% White, 21.2% Black, and 58.2% Hispanic. 72.2% of our students are low-income. (Source: Illionis Report Card) We don’t discriminate in our higher-level programs for students – in fact, we won a national award earlier this year from the College Board for diversity in our AP and Honors programs. The students who designed this prosthetic hand are representative of our demographic makeup at this school – white, Hispanic, and Black; male and female; and I’d be willing to bet these kids don’t all come from the 27.8% of our students who are not low-income.
Public schools, especially ones like mine, get a bad rap these days and sometimes, like in this case, are all but ignored. Of course, we face our challenges, but we are providing truly amazing and unique opportunities for our students, and I wanted to set the record straight. I believe in public education. I believe public education benefits children, families, and communities, and this is a direct example of that. And it should have been reported correctly.
See more photos here.
See video here.
Featured Image Credit: JTHS 204 Flicker Page
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#MeMadeMay2017 – Week 3
May 22nd, 2017I’m so close, you guys! I’m loving this challenge, and it is really helping me hone in on my personal style, as well as where the holes are in my handmade wardrobe where I need to make some pieces to fill in the gaps.
So far, I’m learning that I have a good mix of professional and casual clothes. Lots of the professional clothes I make are dresses, and that’s fine for me right now. I prefer to make tops and dresses and thrift my pants rather than spend the time making them. I’m also learning that I love sewing clothes with knits. They are so much more forgiving (and quicker) Than wovens, though I do have my eye on a drapey wrap dress when I find just the right lightweight fabric to make it in.
I’m also finding that I actually prefer to wear my handmade clothes over my ready-to-wear stuff. I’m not sure why this is – probably a combination of pride and how much I’ve learned about sizing and fit. There’s also something to be said for how shiny and new my handmade clothes are right now because, many of them, I’ve literally made the night before in order to have something to wear for this challenge that isn’t a complete repeat of the previous 48 hours.
So, here’s what I wore! (Descriptions of the pictures go from left to right on the top, then left to right on the bottom).
May 15 – These are the first two pictures in the grid. I wore my Hemlock Tee (FREE pattern from Grainline Studio) again, both because I like it and because I thought it went nicely with the jewelry Tim got me for Mother’s Day from WAR Chest Boutique. Also, Mother’s Day was the day before, and mama didn’t do any laundry. Whoops. Which also explains why Emily wore her elephant Geranium Shirt (pattern by Made By Rae) that I made for her last year and just barely fit this week. She loved it, though, so… whatever.
May 16 – This is my Rosa Top (pattern from See Kate Sew)! I made this Monday night to wear Tuesday – I’m not even kidding. If you recognize the color, that’s because I accidentally ordered too much of the purple bamboo rayon for my Panama Tee Dress (see previous roundup). Turns out I had enough for this lovely top, so it was a happy accident, indeed.
May 17 – My favorite Moneta Dress (pattern from Colette Patterns). I made this dress to wear at Emily’s second birthday party, and it has proven one of the most versatile pieces in my wardrobe. I can wear it plain, belted with a million different belt options, with whatever shoes and jewelry I want. I can wear a cardigan, blazer, or sweater over it. I can wear tights under it. It’s seriously amazing. I highly recommend black and white stripes for a wardrobe staple.
May 18 – I’m in my Veronika Skirt (FREE pattern from Megan Nielsen) and my Metro T-Shirt (pattern by Oliver + S). Emily is in her monkey Recess Raglan (pattern by See Kate Sew, fabric from Sprout Patterns). She loves that shirt!
May 19 – It was a cold last day for the senior class of 2017, so I’m in my She Persisted Featherweight Cardigan again. (See previous roundup for details.) Tim and I are both book nerding to the extreme in shirts from Out of Print Clothing, too. Couples who nerd together, stay together.
May 20 – Another Featherweight Cardigan! This was my first one, and I learned a lot from making it. I learned that I do not like my cardigans fitted, cropped, nor with elbow-length sleeves. But, I love the color and the yarn from The Lemonade Shop is so soft and pretty, I like to pair it with longer tops and wear it anyway. You may be starting to notice my obsession with purple. I like purple almost as much as I like navy.
May 21 – Emily and I are looking adorable again. I’m in my Rosa Top, and she’s in her Rosie Top – the mini version of my top from See Kate Sew. She’s also in some self-drafted capri leggings that I made from some leftover floral fabric from a dress I made this weekend, which you will see next week! Hang on… I don’t think you can quite see exactly how adorable we are…
Awwwwww! <3
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#MeMadeMay2017 – Week 2
May 15th, 2017Well, week 2 of this challenge got a little more difficult. I repeated things more (but, to be fair, I do that with my ready-to-wear clothes, too, when I know I’m not going to see the same people…) and, as the weather started to warm up, I started to realize that the only warm-weather clothes I’ve made are one t-shirt and some dresses and skirts. So I used that as an excuse to order some fabric to fill out some holes. Hopefully, the fabric arrives so I can hurry up and make some easy things before the weather is in the 80’s this entire week!
May 8 – I’m in my Panama Tee Dress and Lodestar Shawl again, along with my necklace from Mata Traders and my bracelets from High Point Supply Co. Emily is in a super cute shirt I made for her. You can’t really see from this picture, but it has monkeys and bananas on it. The pattern is the Recess Raglan from See Kate Sew, but I bought it through Sprout Patterns, which is so cool. They print the pattern on the fabric for you, and you get to choose the designs you want. It probably cut the cutting process in half, which I’m a huge fan of. Here’s a better shot of the shirt. You may also notice that she has matching banana Toms shoes. What can I say – girl loves her some bananas.
May 9 – Here is my finished She Persisted cardigan! I’m grateful it was cold enough at least one day for me to wear it. The pattern is the Featherweight Cardigan by Hannah Fettig, and the yarn is called She Persisted from Knitted Wit. 10% of the sale of this yarn went to the Southern Poverty Law Center, which is pretty amazing. For you knitters out there, I did make some modifications, which are noted on my Ravelry project page. The t-shirt is also made by me. It’s the Metro T-Shirt by Oliver + S. This is literally the best fitting t-shirt I’ve ever owned, and I didn’t even make any adjustments to the pattern. I’ve ordered fabric to make more because I love it so much.
May 10 – This isn’t made by me, but I did refashion it. It was a maxi dress, but it hit just above my ankle, which was weird. So I shortened it and now it is one of my favorite dresses ever.
May 11 – Here I am in my Mandy Boat Neck tee, which is a free pattern from Tessuti Fabrics. It’s a one-size-fits-most pattern, which I was leery of, but I made it in a super flowy knit and I really love the loose feel. And, by now, you’re familiar with my necklace and bracelets.
May 12 – Showing off my feminism, school spirit (the t-shirt was a fundraiser for Fearless Females), and craftiness. This is my Boothbay Cardigan, also by Hannah Fettig. You may notice I love her sweater patterns. They are just so wearable, and so easy to knit.
May 13 – There’s no picture here, because I wasn’t wearing anything handmade. I started my couch-to-5K running program, and I did yoga at a brewery with a good friend from college, so I spent the day in athletic gear. I did get it secondhand from ThredUp, though!
May 14 – Mother’s Day! I’m wearing my Panama Tee Dress AGAIN. To be fair, though, I did actually make it for Mother’s Day, but I finished it early so I’ve worn it a bunch. My necklace, bracelet, and earrings here are a Mother’s Day gift from WAR Chest Boutique and are made by women in the USA who are running from sex traffickers. My mom’s necklace is the same as mine from Mata Traders, but it’s silver. Shopping with a purpose, FTW!
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#MeMadeMay2017 – Week 1
May 11th, 2017For those of you who don’t know, Me Made May is a challenge where, throughout the entire month of May, crafters challenge themselves to wear their handmade clothes each day throughout the month. At this time last year, I was just learning how to sew and I had just finished my first two handmade sweaters so I couldn’t really participate. This year, though, I have really stepped up my game.
I don’t have a ton of handmade stuff, though, so this has also really been an exercise in accessorizing to avoid feeling like I’ve repeated outfits. I thought that would be annoying, but it’s been really fun to pull out old jewelry and scarves in order to liven up an old outfit.
I have to say, so far this has been really fun. I’ve been struggling to find my true style for a long time. I like to say that this has been since Emily was born and my body completely changed, but this style journey was actually probably started when my friend came to my college dorm before I was supposed to start student teaching and threw my Birkenstocks in the garbage. I fished them out, but the point was taken – I needed professional clothing for my professional job. There was a time there that I only wore collared shirts and trousers because that was the only way I knew how to “look professional”… until my students made fun of me. I hit a good groove with t-shirts and cardigans before Emily was born, but then my body changed so much that the t-shirts didn’t flatter my figure like they used to.
I often say that making my own clothes – whether knitting or sewing – has helped me love my body, and that is true to an extent. I can grade patterns from a small size on the top to a larger size on the bottom and, because they fit well (and because there are no size tags for me to pout about), they make me feel good. But this process has been more than that. I’ve been able to tap into a network of people who have the same aesthetic (read: professional but also a little bit hippie) and ethos (read: I have the crazy idea that people shouldn’t die and, in fact, should make a living wage making my clothes) that I have, and so I have been able to make clothes that make me feel proud and good in every sense of the word. This challenge has really started to help me realize what my style is again, which – added bonus – is also going to help me simplify my closet even more, and now that I’ve found that, I am starting to feel really great about my clothing choices. On top of that, I see that there are holes in my wardrobe that need filling. I have a lot of sweaters and dresses, for example, but not a lot of t-shirts and tank tops. It’s been cold, so that has worked out, but the end of the month is going to be tough if I don’t get some of these things made!
I’ll be doing a roundup each week of what I wore with links to the patterns in case anyone wants to try their hand at a creation. Here’s week one!
May 1 – Luckily, May started off pretty cold in Chicagoland, which gives me even more variety in my style. This was my Indian Summer sweater. This is the first sweater I ever knitted, and it might be my most-loved, too. I love the stripes and the lace touch on the bottom, I love the colors I picked, and I love how it’s baggy but still classy. You can also see a great shot of my Espe Boots from The Root Collective here. I wear these guys probably 3-4 times per week.
May 2 – Still cold, so I wore my Lesley Sweater. This one is fitted with an awesome wide neck. Also, as you will see this month, navy is my go-to color for all the things, so this one gets a lot of wear in the winter.
May 3 – For the senior awards night, I busted out all the stops. (Is that the phrase? I feel like I got that wrong.) This is my newest addition, the Panama Tee Dress paired with my Lodestar shawl (in yarn from WeeChickadee Woolery, who I have to mention because I LOVE THEM). No joke, I sewed this dress earlier in the day to wear that night. I love it, and you’ll see it again this month, for sure. The necklace is an OLD purchase from New York & Co.
May 4 – STILL cold, so I’m in my Toaster Sweater. This is so comfy, but I feel like the cut works for work or weekend. There’s also an Emily sighting here! She’s in a hoodie I made for her. That pattern is great – super easy, and unisex!
May 5 – No handmades, only handmaids. This was the day after the House passed the AHCA, which lists c-sections as a preexisting condition (and like 50 other ridiculous things that no one should ever have to worry about paying for), so I wore this shirt along with an old, red cardigan and my red Toms. But, hey, the purchase of that shirt sent a book to a community in need, and buying Toms sends shoes to those in need, too, so this outfit was a win.
May 6 – Date night! My mom came over to let Tim and me get out of the house for a little bit, which was awesome. So I stepped it up a little for a Saturday, wearing my Hemlock Tee (FREE PATTERN!) (There’s that navy again…). The necklace is from Mata Traders, and my bracelets are from HP Supply Co. and Alex + Ani.
May 7 – A lazy Sunday in a shirt refashioned by me. I liked the way the top of the teal shirt and the bottom of the striped shirt fit, but not the bottom/top respectively. So I cut them up, sewed the parts I liked together, and ended up with a super cute top. You can also see me working on my She Persisted cardigan in that picture, which you will see in all of it’s glory next week!
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Small Changes to a Greener Life
May 2nd, 2017In my last post about the March for Science, I wrote about all of the things we’ve been doing to use less waste in our house. Let’s recap:
… buying your clothes secondhand (or making them!), washing your clothes appropriately to keep them lasting longer, using dryer balls instead of dryer sheets, using a reusable coffee cup and water bottle instead of disposable ones (especially using ones made of materials other than plastic), using cloth diapers and menstrual pads instead of disposables, using cloth and wax wraps or silicone reusables instead of plastic wraps, using cloth zippered sandwich bags instead of plastic ones, going meatless one day a week, using natural cleaning supplies like vinegar and water…
And I’d like to add putting a recycling bin upstairs so we are more likely to recycle bathroom waste, and reusing glass and plastic food containers for leftovers, and using reusable towels instead of paper towels because we did all that, too.
Now, it seems like we are pretty close to being a zero-waste household. We are not. We take out the garbage far less than we did, but we’re not at zero garbage. Because, let’s get real. Sometimes, you have to do things that are convenient. Buy frozen food, put the raw meat in a plastic baggy, use a paper towel because you have a toddler and sometimes either a dish towel won’t cut it, or it isn’t worth using up all of them and having to do laundry to clean up a particularly bad mess. Sometimes you need a damn coffee in the middle of the day (see previous statement about toddler messes) and you don’t have your reusable coffee cup with you. Sometimes, your toddler just wants to eat fruit snacks and they come wrapped in whatever they come wrapped in.
Trust me. I get it. I feel like I’ve been reading a lot of green living blogs, and they make it look so easy to have a zero-waste household. And, because green living is their job (and because they probably don’t have toddlers at home), it may not be easy, but it is worth it to do their jobs as bloggers well. For the rest of us who have other jobs and tiny children who refuse to eat anything but fruit snacks (did I say that already?), sometimes plastic is a necessity just to get through the day.
The important thing to remember, though, is that what the world really needs isn’t for everyone to do everything (though that would be great), it is for everyone to do something. If everyone wore their clothes at least 30 times and washed them only in cold water, or carried a reusable coffee cup to the coffee shop, or ditched plastic grocery bags, it would make a huge difference.
I think this type of all-or-nothing thinking keeps people from taking that first step. It certainly was that way for me. I figured, “What’s the point of bringing a reusable coffee cup. I’m one person out of a million, and even I don’t do it every time.” But small strokes fell big oaks, my friends. It’s the theme of this blog! If we each take one small step together, we can keep a ton of plastic and unnecessary waste out of landfills and start making a big difference to this world of ours.
Who’s with me?
Photo Credit: Andy Arthur
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March for Science – Chicago
April 28th, 2017I’ve been obsessed with greening my life lately. I try to post to Facebook several ideas people can do to make small changes in their lives to help the world. These are things like buying your clothes secondhand (or making them!), washing your clothes appropriately to keep them lasting longer, using dryer balls instead of dryer sheets, using a reusable coffee cup and water bottle instead of disposable ones (especially using ones made of materials other than plastic), using cloth diapers and menstrual pads instead of disposables, using cloth and wax wraps or silicone reusables instead of plastic wraps, using cloth zippered sandwich bags instead of plastic ones, going meatless one day a week, using natural cleaning supplies like vinegar and water… the list is endless.
And, the thing is, I have adapted every single item on this list in the past few months. It is surprisingly easy to make these changes en masse, especially with the advent of services like MightyFix and Amazon. (Yes, before you say it, I know about the carbon footprint of shipping items, but no one is perfect, ok? Better that than plastic, in my opinion, especially when companies are greening their shipping practices more and more.)
So it made sense to me – in light of Trump cutting funding for the EPA and denying climate change and threatening to renege on the Paris Agreement, etc. – to join in the March for Science in Chicago last weekend.
I’m no scientist. I have scientist genes somewhere in there, and I find science fascinating; heck, I’ll even go out of my way to encourage young girls into STEM fields, but I’m a humanities girl through-and-through. However, science is not only vital; to me, it is inextricably linked with the search for (and consequent recent denial of) truth.
So I marched as a science ally, if you will. We packed up Emily, grabbed a parking spot on SpotHero, donned our Pussyhats, and went.
The energy was great. The signs were hilarious. The costumes were fantastic. (Emily particularly loved the dinosaur.) And, like the Women’s March, it was just so good to be around people who felt the same way.
We even ran in to the pastor of our church and his wife, and one of my favorite undergrad professors.
This was the first march I took Emily to, and the first one Tim and I had done together. I was nervous about the large crowds coupled with a toddler that has a penchant for running away, but it turned out great. I’m glad she was a part of it with us, and I’m proud to pass on our activism to her generation – though, hopefully, they won’t need it.
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