Surprisingly, our most responsible group member left her needles somewhere with little recollection of where they might be.  Her younger sister remembered her supplies but had forgotten how to knit.  They look disheveled today, and not especially clean.  We wondered and worried a little bit about their living circumstances.  Our youngest member came in with her yarn in a tangled mess and all her knitting undone.  She blamed the situation on a girl at school.

We took a few steps backwards today, as I suppose must happen from time to time.  Our most vocal and opinionated member of the group had trouble filtering her comments.  What came out of her mouth was belligerent, demanding, and pretty unreasonable.  We had several confrontational moments, but neither I nor NB ever lost perspective.

The child who I have been most concerned about, related to lack of confidence contrasted with a seductive approach to the opposite sex has happily surprised us.  She has gained confidence in many different domains, including her speech and appearance.  She is becoming a good knitter and feels proud of it.  She most enjoys my review of vocabulary words and gave good definitions of "symmetrical" and "exclaims" today.  She is nearly eleven years old and her mother who is expecting her fourth child is twenty-five.

NB won a national psychology award by doing an experiment with children's estimation of ages.  The newest member of our group asked if I knew a knitting teacher Miss P, who is 72 years old.  The girls seized this as a moment to guess my age and Miss NB's too.  They concurred that I am between 33 and 35 years old, and NB is fifteen.  The girls seemed confident of their estimations so we left it at that.

About halfway through our class, C. who is the preschool director stood in the doorway and said that there was another child who wanted to join our group.  I frowned at her as I was having trouble enough with 7 girls already.  I could not see who the child was, so I went to the doorway and there he was, T., the first boy to join our club.

This young man already knows how to knit and has made himself a scarf which was the talk of the town.  He was reluctant to come in and sit down.  T. stood by  me, and I handed him needles and yarn immediately to lure him in.  I asked if he wanted me to cast on.  Courtesy of his knitting instructor, the 72 year old Miss P., T. told me that he can cast on in several different ways.  I showed him my way which he recognized and duplicated.  I commented that the needles I gave him were rather long (14") and he told me that he knit with bamboo needles at home.  

NB and I fell for this little man immediately  and especially loved his very deep voice.  He said that he would return next week.  I am already thinking and planning  some tactics for getting us back on track again.

It is so cold and gray out.  I would have opted to stay home today but Papa J. suggested that we go the the De Cordova Museum in Lincoln.  It turns out that if you have a credit card from Bank of America, the admission is free.

The indoor museum itself is rather small and it was somewhat crowded.  I am never a fan of smelly old winter coated people so we passed through the exhibits quickly.  There were some interesting works by a few artists and it was nice to be afforded an up close  view of their work.

Additionally, there is a sculpture park that somewhat resembles the one in Princeton NJ.  It was cold and hilly so we (I) cut short our walk.  The setting is pretty, over the Charles River as it broadens.  We'll have to return in the spring.

My favorite sculpture was, of course, the baseball player.  He is very shiny and dynamic looking.  Dad liked the solid brick circle which seemed kind of ho-hum to me.

Faceless Jack says hello.  The tiny bit of pink resting on the chair, is his tongue.

The little girls rush in from the bus and dart upstairs to put their coats away.  Without any after school snack, they come down single file following the teacher's aide and quickly take their seats in the small conference room.  I try to lay their respective projects out before they come and also to repair any tragic errors in the pieces they are knitting.

My "Littlest Knitters" are growing quickly.  I almost didn't recognize our youngest member as suddenly her teeth have grown in and she has gotten taller.  The girls have a composure while knitting that was not evident at first.  They take their needles and begin their craft, chatting only appropriately in tempo with working.  The bickering has entirely ceased and there is a surprisingly helpful and sympathetic decorum among them. They help me out by finishing my sentences when I am moving around the table.  One girl was concerned that my watch was making my arm hot while I was knitting. She stuck her finger under my watch and said ," It feels sweaty under there. Is it comfortable?"  I told the girls that I am accustomed to always wearing a watch because I am a nurse.  "You are a nurse?"  Hushed silence.

The teacher's aide has finally learned to complete a few lines of knitting as well, without tearing our her work and pouting.  I was able to figure out some errors in her perceptions of starting a new line that put her on the path to becoming more independent.  One of the girls brought in her knitting from home, and asked why it had gotten so much wider as she progressed.  "Let me look" I asked her.  "How many stitches did you cast on?" "Twelve, " she answered.  "Well you have 19 stitches on your needles now.  You increased your stitches along the way."  She took that in stride when I reassured that all knitters somehow change the numbers of stitches that are originally cast on, but that counting helps.

Along the way, I decided to let the girls bring their needles and yarn home for the duration of the week.  We talked about where to safely store them at home, how to remind ourselves to return with them next week, and how to inform teachers that the needles were for a class.  One child said that her teacher is excited to see her knit.  We'll see how our little experiment in responsibility goes.  The girls certainly had solid ideas about how to manage things.

Our most reluctant knitter took a chance yesterday in learning to use single pointed needles.  I gave her the spool with her French knitting in progress and hers is certainly a work of art.  K., I told her, "I am certain you can do this."  Her older sister in the group reassured her with saying that she would help her at home.  She put her hands on mine as I explained the steps.  The other girls recited the mnemonic and laughed at their recollection of it.  I touch K.'s forehead that was furrowed in concentration. "Relax."  It took about a half hour for her to pick up tempo and then she looked at me and said, "Miss Mindy, I can knit."

There is so much potential for growth within this little group.  The girls are dedicated to the process.  Children's minds are incredible.  Along the way, they have picked up my cues and we have come to many understandings. I have come to be more acquainted with them as well.

I can't take photos of the group unless they are officially sanctioned by the agency and by their parents.  One day soon, I think I'll be able to share them with everybody.

The dogs are predictably awful.  Jack found NB's vintage fur hat and attacked it this AM until it was in shreds.  The two canine fools bark all day to be let out and then return to the deck door to be let back in, in a matter of seconds.  

This blog is tiresome and I am glad I have but a few readers and sorry to them for the drudgery.  The worst part of having this blog involves the continuous spam that is received and filtered out by me.  JB set the automatic spam filters higher, but still there are so many "comments" that are worse than useless.  To me they are embarrassing.  I wonder what the reason is for spamming innocent blogs.  Are there any gains?  I can't see why having a listing of random, often obscene words with the name viagra embedded is worth anybody's efforts.

My craft endeavors are desultory as I try to wrap up some UFOs.  The only real fun I've had making items this week are the tablecloths requested by JSN.  I like shopping for a new genre of fabrics, not exactly my taste and then embellishing them with weird trim and such.  Our little jaunt to Cambridge had good yield for trim, buttons, pillow forms, and assorted fabric.

Miss NB is so busy these days. She tries to keep up with her friends, spends more time at her job than she should, and is taking calculus to fulfill HMS prerequisites.  She is far from hearing from several schools and not close to a decision.  At least, this is not dreary.

Probably, some plans should be made for a getaway.  We all have been doing what the rest of the world has to do, with the exception of the privileged few, and that is to go to work regularly and clean the house. 

Those days seem to be gone.  The family's finances have not been diminished substantially but the urge to go to a store and purchase random goods is gone.  Our little trip to NY was a case in point. We girls went to Soho where we like to shop and the stores bored us.  All stores bore me at this time, except for the strange fabric ones where I like the ambience as well as the prices.  Even bringing me to a notions store in Manhattan did not spark any interest in looking or purchasing.  The only item that I brought home from our expeditions was a card with four nice green buttons on it from the flea market.

It's all good. JSN gets us the cosmetics and little fun things that fill in the gaps.  NB has an extraordinary wardrobe based on these "gifts" and her size (0).  C is a great bargain hunter and enjoys his own shopping pursuits.  JSN is the shopping czar who reports that most items are not worth consideration; they are badly made out of substandard materials.  So we all go to look a little but not to buy anything.

For myself, I am  mostly looking for ideas.  I have come to believe that everything can become a project.  I am not that skilled but I persevere.  Some of my projects end up looking truly dreadful while others are passable.

We had a lovely time in NYC and came home with lighter bags for a change. The train is only a moderately disgusting way to travel.  I got to sit next to NB who did a calculus assignment for nearly 4 hours without talking.

As an update to the story regarding the very rude medical assistant, much has unfolded.  After two days of thinking about the several scenarios which transpired over the weekend, I decided to write an email to the lead medical assistant. I did not write to my bosses, or to any of the administrators. I put the information out there on the level of the employee so if the medical assistants had anything to say about my behavior, I would hear them out.

T. called me at home yesterday and opened up with, "I am so sorry that you were treated like that. I have brought it to B. and G. and they are regarding it as a serious matter."  Okay.  Then when I got to work this afternoon, A., our nursing director, called me into her office and I thought, "Here goes."  Worse than her discussing the bickering over the weekend was that nursing leadership in our organization won't take no for an answer in regard to my ignoring their requests to fill a position as a nursing instructor.

In truth, I know nothing about the role of LPN and I have no desire to teach at that level.  It's more task oriented and less philosophical in general and I tend to wax eloquent on concepts of nursing philosophy.  These LPN students need to learn the basics- vital signs, weights, giving shots which is not in my sphere of interest.  The pressure is rather heavy coming from  nursing administration because a feeder system is desired to fill positions for LPN's.  

So just when I would like to phase myself out, or at least dream of it, I am asked to assume a new role.

Maria told me this evening that Tom. who was the offending medical assistant is being called in on Friday, probably to be fired.  It was never my intention to have it travel in that direction but I guess she has done enough to harm herself over time.  I am hoping that her union intervenes and asks for her to receive guidance/anger management on the job. She is a loose cannon, with a threatening demeanor but can probably learn to keep herself in check.

Angriest of all about the way I was spoken to, I am told, is B. my dear friend and tormentor who is the head administrator of our center. Word does travel fast. Tom. took a chance with me this weekend, and it backfired.  I think that the consequences for her have little to do with education or a social class issues that are weighted in my favor (though there might be a small element of that). I'd like to think that it's because I have never, ever messed around on the job and everyone knows this.

Upon coming home, NB and I watched a show which was my dream concept. It was a competition of young opera singers at the Metropolitan Opera, shown on PBS.  The program was delightful until the final credits, and then it was sad.  Our favorite competing tenor had died of cancer.

We are all still reeling here from the results of the Senate election in MA yesterday.  How is it possible that such a shallow and mean spirited Republican could have won?  I hope that Ted Kennedy is beyond knowing

I had a run in with one of the medical assistants today.  We started our disagreement yesterday when she told me that our doctors and NPs could never go to Haiti to help because they are too stupid, too lazy, and don't know what they are doing.  She postulated that our encounters with patients were entirely social and that it was the medical assistants who really knew everything.  You know, I just couldn't accept her statement without clarifying that she did not know what she was talking about.  Today she refused to do something that is part of her job description, telling me that I should do it as a function of "continuity of care."  I said, "Get up and do it. It's your job."  

Well, she came after me and yelled at me in our NP office. She had forgotten that she had been told by the head of the medical assistants that while I seemed mild mannered, I would not stand for any bullshit.  She backed down rather quickly, but now I have to decide if I want to take this one step further in telling the bosses that this woman is insubordinate, unpleasant, and thinks them idiots.  Her co-workers don't like her too much .  I'll take a couple of days to consider what I am going to do.

The clinicians have worked so hard this winter in urgent care.  Our schedules are always packed and we rarely complain. Each encounter is a challenge. This medical assistant claimed that we do nothing when we close the door behind us except to write prescriptions for what we imagine is the problem. I do not believe that she has ever been asked to stay in a room with us when we examine and treat the patients.  Her main problem is really envy of our empowerment and her lack thereof.

All is well otherwise.  The nurse expecting triplets has had them at 30 weeks gestation and though the 2 boys and a girl are small, they are stable.  I had this brainstorm to knit a series of caps for the babies as most body heat in preemies is lost via the head due to its large surface area.  I have 3.5 more hats to knit. The caps are sized S,M,and L, meaning preemie to regular newborn size.

I have supplied needles and yarn for use during class, but if I send them home, they will never reappear for class. Additionally, I don't want these girls to think that they can only knit if someone provides the supplies.  Yarn and needles cost less than most toys or video games, so I was hoping that the interest would cross over to spare time at home.

The 7 year old, S., came into the room and sat down to knit.  Usually she first comes for a hug and to chat, but she was serious about getting down to business.  She had thought about what I had shown her last week, and wanted to apply it.  M. and A. wanted to learn to cast on stitches this week so they could start projects at home.  K. remains our French knitting expert with a several foot long tail coming out of her spool. 

Our club member with poor self confidence asked to work with me, and as we huddled together together she kept putting her head on my shoulder.  Finally she pulled herself together and started knitting.  The teacher's assistant had the whole process click as well.  We have come to terms with each other, and she is happy to be among the knitting group.

We have a lot to look forward to, I think.  These very young girls have learned to knit faster than I expected and so we can now plan some projects.  Another mother dropped in to say hello and talked about how proud she is of her daughter for learning to knit. It's more than just the stitches-- there are concepts and there is vocabulary, as well.

The teacher's assistant is going to scout out some local stores for inexpensive supplies and report back to us.  It's tiring to teach a skill where I keep having to climb around the table and explain techniques as simply and clearly as possible.  It has become very gratifying.

Mr. T. retired from the private school that NB attended in the year of her 8th grade graduation.  He had had a rough year at the school because he was responsible for secondary school placements and packaging the students for the best possible presentation. He had already stepped down from active teaching. Unfortunately Miss NB's class was a motley crew with few credentials to lay claim to and the high schools that the students were accepted to were far below the expectations of their parents.

NB had opted out of the private school scene and was adamant about returning to our local public high school.  Therefore, we were not a part of the lynch mob mentality who blamed Mr. T. for their poor outcomes. That class has gone on to fulfill their destinies as would be predicted: in a very inauspicious manner.

NB disliked the private school but to us, there were many positives.  She got to sit down to a home cooked, nutritious lunch and eat at her own pace.  She had interesting art courses, and being physically fit was deemed important.  These things had been cut from the public school budgets. Still, we never quite fit in with the upper class persona of the school and we became renegades in our own right.

The private school reflected the struggles of our country.  It had been an all white, elite school for the privileged few that realized that they had to open their doors wider to meet the future.  This caused quite a bit of turmoil within the school, and we found ourselves among and also siding with the minorities. Mrs. V., the headmistress came from the Philippines and was a most cultured and educated woman.  Yet, she told me on countless occasions, that she was mistaken for a housekeeper.  She went on, following in the next year, to have a catastrophic heart attack herself and also retired.

We all did our best to keep Miss NB afloat in this environment and Mr. T became her champion.  Something clicked for him about his understanding of Miss NB and he fell in love with her.  He became her advocate. He even used to blow kisses goodbye to the tiniest, fiercest girl in the middle school.  She sustained his admiration by scoring higher by far than anyone on the standardized tests that were frequently administered.  By comparison, the rest of the class looked dismal.  NB didn't care about the scores or the accolades she received at the morning assemblies.  In fact, she was always about 45 minutes late to school and breezed in on her own schedule, never attending assembly.

Mr. T would laugh about NB's life in "Caribbean time".  School began at 8 AM and we live several towns over.  Many students lived farther away but wouldn't dare to be late.  We were late every single day of middle school and no one uttered one word of criticism to us because of Mr. T.  Miss NB was given leeway by this educator.  He sometimes got mad at her, and annoyed with me.  His complaints were valid but sometimes ridiculous.  He would be frustrated about the way NB played softball, wanting her to be the star of every game.  If you weigh 65 lbs. and go up against girls who were twice as large, well, it was hard to always shine through.  He got pretty wound up, and it's no surprise that he had cardiac failure.

NB was planning to tell him about going to medical school.  I thought about Mr. T myself from time to time. I even ran into him a couple of times. He was a Bronx boy and his background reminded me of Frank McCourt's. At graduation, one of the teachers sang "Danny Boy" to honor Mr. T.  I felt that there was a bond between us when we were adrift in the milieu of entitlement and social climbing of the private school.  Mr. P.T. had a wife, two daughters and recently a grandchild, and we were happy for him.

 

Rest in peace, Mr. T.  We are sad that you are not around.

(Feel free to add on here, NB, if you have anything you want to say. He was your friend, after all.)

I like the older kids, I must say.  They are often candid, worried, confiding, mature and silly. Their issues cross economic borders and involve concerns from straight and gay teens alike. Often, without acknowledgement of consequences, these young people leap into situations which may lead to illnesses they never wished for.  I can tell you that there is a lot of laughter and crying during many of these encounters.  It is not my strong suit to counsel young adults but I have forced myself to become more knowledgeable around the issues of the age group.

The dilemma of returning to work and putting young infants in daycare is also a slippery slope in terms of advice giving.  There are many reasons why mothers feel compelled to return to work, but that is not my business. What does call for my opinion is in the lengths to which parents will go to in order to have their sick babies go back to daycare the next day.  A mother of a 18 month old tried to wrangle antibiotics out of me from every direction.  The toddler looked exhausted and mildly ill but there were no findings in the physical exam to warrant a prescription.

Often I will talk to the little ones directly.  Last evening I had a chat with a five month old.  I asked him how he was doing, if anything hurt, and if he was tired.  He gave me a wan smile that seemed to indicate that he was not feeling his best but well enough to interact.  I asked the mother to keep him home for a day or two in order to recover from his current viral illness before he got launched into another.  "I can't really miss work" was her response.

Employers are frequently harsh with young parents in the workforce. They need notes from us to explain the need to stay home with their children.  I was surprised to find out that the postal system is very intolerant of worker's absences related to sick kids.  Children in all day daycare are like workers as well. They leave early in the morning and return home at about 6 PM.  It's a long day for all concerned.

I managed to always work unusual hours and had coverage at home.  There was lots of wear and tear on all of us but nothing in comparison to what many working mothers have to accept.  Still, I think it's bad policy to send sick little ones back to a less comfortable, more stressful environment where no one is absolutely crazy about them.