Feeling good to be back blogging and one of my favorite subjects are/is kids. I know a little boy who lives with someone who constantly throws tantrums. Yes he has an illness, and the woman he lives with has learned a lot about his illness, but not enough about his control issues until today.
What she did today was something she did a while ago with another child who cursed her out, threw tantrums, kicked the floor all at just eight years old. With a teen sitting at her side, he said let me handle him. Of course that was a no. What she learned then was purely by impulse. Since this little guy didn't have any respect for her and her property it was time to turn that around. This little kid came to her with barely any property, but one day she had a humongous birthday party like it was Christmas, so now he had a lot of his very own property. Taking toys away only works for the moment.
While he sat on the floor calling her an F and B the teen again said oh please let me at em'. This kid then pushed and kicked at her chair, and then she got up, went to his room, and grabbed his Thomas the Train set which she just bought him, went to the side door, opened it and whoosh, threw it out into the yard. He screamed, cried and pleaded. At first she was surprised at his reaction, but something else set in. He was afraid of bees which she didn't know, but that wouldn't have stopped her as he could always get his toys later in the early evening. He came in crying, and calling her more names. She went to his room, took a puzzle this time, out the door. Yes it sounds cruel, but after the second piece of property went flying out the door, there weren't any more incidents of disrespect which brings me to today.
This other child at twelve has tantrums too, worse than any she ever experienced and no one, not one person could tell her how to control him. That old memory came into play and she warned him, loud and clear. He became worse as he always does when behavior is mentioned, yelling no you can't do that! Hah, but you can? Out the door went a box of something he loves and as it opened and a few pieces flew into the air, he sat in the yard crying and angry. He came in and asked to move.
Within a minute he started to tantrum again when she went to his room and he immediately stopped. Giving him instructions about visitors which usually brings on a tantrum, banging furniture, yelling and fake crying for almost two hours at a time and less, she told him she doesn't care who is here. If he shows dis-respect, has a tantrum-out his toys will go and they will be bigger than today. His answer? A quiet okay. I'm sure my friend knows this will take a few more tosses as he's been doing this for almost nine years, and while it isn't meant for every child, it is working for him along with other changes. Time, patience and a few drinks.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Dear Mr. Vitalo ch 10 part 2
Well after Sandy and I finished talking to Mr. Korsun about Mr. Vitalo we stated talking about how it felt to be in the eighth grade, well for me. sandy started Bay Ridge High. I was anxiously waiting for winter and Christmas which meant new clothes and a Christmas party at Zion with the Norwegian ladies. Those ladies made sure big families like mine had all the winter clothes we needed. This year was more important to me for that than I can ever remember. Why? Because of Mr. Vitalo!
The ladies came to the house as they did every year, wearing big hats and coats with fur collars and long gloves. Sitting down having coffee with my mother they asked sizes, made comments about how fast we were all growing. That took a lot of work, sizes, food, shoes certificates. They did it all. So Christmas came and most of us went to the party except those kids who thought they were better than that, meaning my sister and a few brother and the parents of course, but never too proud to ask, or wear new clothes, or new shoes, and eat all the food they gave us.
Me, I loved going, mainly because I got to hang out with Bette Lou, see Pastor Don, and sing. That church, I loved my church. With a giant tree we all sang around it, in Zion's basement, with big over sized glass stained windows.
There were many bags of groceries to bring home, and shortly before leaving one of the ladies came to me and in her Norwegian accent asked, Nancy? You graduate this year, yah? I answered maybe, knowing how bad I was in math and we had to make our own graduation dress. I ripped a lot of stitches in sewing class.
Off we went home, and had a great Christmas. Then I opened a box. My best gift almost ever. It was a blue suit. All I thought about was, wait until Mr. Vitalo sees me in this. Boy was I dumb! But this wasn't just any blue suit. It was a blue plaid hip-pleated skirt with a white leather vest and the same wool blue plaid trim to match. WOW! I wore it the first day back to school, and never got to see Mr. V. once. I was told he was still on vacation. After school, I hung up my suit carefully with my white pleated cotton blouse. I had to be so careful putting it in the closet. It was so small and i had to share it with my sister and mother who seemed to have a million dollars worth of clothes. I hung it in the back. Even if it was squashed, at least it wouldn't get knocked off the hangar and lay in a heap.
Days and days passed, and finally I heard that soothing, hey Mac! At last, back to normal. I Mr. Vitalo I shouted. He said so Mac how was Christmas? As I'm telling him, he pats my shoulder, says great, sorry I have to go, now get to class. I was on cloud nine and now knew I could wear my new suit tomorrow.
Tomorrow comes and I'm looking, walking past his office and after lunch see Mr. Hazel the secretary. Mr. Hazel, where's Mr. Vitalo? Oh he went to another school today to observe. WHAT! WHY? Is he leaving? No, no, no, no, he's helping.
Again I hang my suit up in the back of the closet. i took the plastic off my mothers dress and covered my white leather vest.
Wednesday and I run to school to make sure he's there. He was. My heart smiled as long as the country is wide. Now I had to plan on next week and wearing that suit. But before that all that the girls were called in to make sure they were well informed about making their graduations dresses, and math was on schedule. I knew I was way behind, so I barely said I was doing okay. That day was a bummer. I not only wasn't ready, I didn't want to be ready.
The ladies came to the house as they did every year, wearing big hats and coats with fur collars and long gloves. Sitting down having coffee with my mother they asked sizes, made comments about how fast we were all growing. That took a lot of work, sizes, food, shoes certificates. They did it all. So Christmas came and most of us went to the party except those kids who thought they were better than that, meaning my sister and a few brother and the parents of course, but never too proud to ask, or wear new clothes, or new shoes, and eat all the food they gave us.
Me, I loved going, mainly because I got to hang out with Bette Lou, see Pastor Don, and sing. That church, I loved my church. With a giant tree we all sang around it, in Zion's basement, with big over sized glass stained windows.
There were many bags of groceries to bring home, and shortly before leaving one of the ladies came to me and in her Norwegian accent asked, Nancy? You graduate this year, yah? I answered maybe, knowing how bad I was in math and we had to make our own graduation dress. I ripped a lot of stitches in sewing class.
Off we went home, and had a great Christmas. Then I opened a box. My best gift almost ever. It was a blue suit. All I thought about was, wait until Mr. Vitalo sees me in this. Boy was I dumb! But this wasn't just any blue suit. It was a blue plaid hip-pleated skirt with a white leather vest and the same wool blue plaid trim to match. WOW! I wore it the first day back to school, and never got to see Mr. V. once. I was told he was still on vacation. After school, I hung up my suit carefully with my white pleated cotton blouse. I had to be so careful putting it in the closet. It was so small and i had to share it with my sister and mother who seemed to have a million dollars worth of clothes. I hung it in the back. Even if it was squashed, at least it wouldn't get knocked off the hangar and lay in a heap.
Days and days passed, and finally I heard that soothing, hey Mac! At last, back to normal. I Mr. Vitalo I shouted. He said so Mac how was Christmas? As I'm telling him, he pats my shoulder, says great, sorry I have to go, now get to class. I was on cloud nine and now knew I could wear my new suit tomorrow.
Tomorrow comes and I'm looking, walking past his office and after lunch see Mr. Hazel the secretary. Mr. Hazel, where's Mr. Vitalo? Oh he went to another school today to observe. WHAT! WHY? Is he leaving? No, no, no, no, he's helping.
Again I hang my suit up in the back of the closet. i took the plastic off my mothers dress and covered my white leather vest.
Wednesday and I run to school to make sure he's there. He was. My heart smiled as long as the country is wide. Now I had to plan on next week and wearing that suit. But before that all that the girls were called in to make sure they were well informed about making their graduations dresses, and math was on schedule. I knew I was way behind, so I barely said I was doing okay. That day was a bummer. I not only wasn't ready, I didn't want to be ready.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
When The Pilot Pees, Who is Flying ...
I just read about an India Airline pilot leaving his seat to use the bathroom and the plane plummeting 7000, that is seven thousand feet! Okay so not an every day occurrence, but it happens. You have to pee so what do you do if you are a pilot in charge of getting people to their destinations safely? I don't ever remember seeing a pilot leaving the cockpit, but...now that I think about it, there is a curtain between them and the passengers. So maybe the flight attendant pulls the curtain and then the pilot comes out and uses his bathroom.
Imagine if we all saw him leave the cockpit, magazine in hand and retreat to a back bathroom for oh say, twenty minutes? Then what? What do we do or what should we do or say? As we've been taught by society to simply sit quiet, behave and MYOB...heck no! Ask, and ask again until you get an appropriate answer, and better yet, ask those questions before you fly. If you're told that there is always auto pilot as well as a co-pilot, well then ask, do they other flights in the air know that? Who do you trust with your life?
Make sure to take out a lot of life insurance. See if you do, and God forbid you die, the insurance companies have to pay out. When that happens, you better believe it, someone will make sure, as sure as they can when insurance companies pay out and hate to do so, that this accident won't repeat itself. Well duh, of course it won't, but you know what I mean, right?
Imagine if we all saw him leave the cockpit, magazine in hand and retreat to a back bathroom for oh say, twenty minutes? Then what? What do we do or what should we do or say? As we've been taught by society to simply sit quiet, behave and MYOB...heck no! Ask, and ask again until you get an appropriate answer, and better yet, ask those questions before you fly. If you're told that there is always auto pilot as well as a co-pilot, well then ask, do they other flights in the air know that? Who do you trust with your life?
Make sure to take out a lot of life insurance. See if you do, and God forbid you die, the insurance companies have to pay out. When that happens, you better believe it, someone will make sure, as sure as they can when insurance companies pay out and hate to do so, that this accident won't repeat itself. Well duh, of course it won't, but you know what I mean, right?
Dear Mr. Vitalo ch10, part one
Dear Mr. Vitalo
I'm sitting here as I write and I'm listening to Barbara Mandrell sing, After All These Years. Yeah a heart breaker for sure, but I could see you listening to it and examining the words and asking questions. "Another day is gone, I turn around and find you're still not here". You would ask, what does that mean Mac? But I know you would know, but you'd want to hear it from me, from anyone , any kids who misses you as I do. I replay it over and over again as I remember that fading picture of you watering your garden when Mr. Korsun took me and two friends to visit you in Long Island. "I still see your face as if it was yesterday" (Barbara Mandrell) and I was just entering the eighth grade, and we both know how that ended. Boy, maybe it's not such a good idea to listen to this stuff, but this was/is good music and I know Mr. Vitalo you'd like it too, if for one thing only; A person can understand the words.
Next song, I Was Country When Country Wasn't Cool, ahh sing it Barbara. My favorite part is when George Jones joins in, walking out on stage from her left side, singing as only ol George can, " Hey! I was country, when country wasn't cool, yeah I was country from my hat down to my boots"! They were the best ever in country music and we talked about that at times, remember?
So there I was walking into P.S. 140, corner of fifty-ninth and fourth ave. This time I met up with Bette Lou my other best friend who now seemed far away since I moved to fifty-sixth street. She lived across the street from the school. It used to be so cool when I lived down the block from school, knowing you were just a few accidental steps away if I went for a walk. You know how that goes. Oh hi Mr. Vitalo, I'd say, I didn't know you were still here, but secretly hoping all the time. Bette Lou would laugh every time and ask, hey Nance, doin' one of those, oh hi things? I'd grin and she'd know. Now here we were together, and I had new clothes on. We always had new clothes for school, Spring and Winter. It was my winter clothes that I couldn't wait to buy, but for now, I'd have to settle on this horrible and humid summer stuff.
I never did good in the summer months unless we were at the beach. Then I was like a dolphin, yup I sure was. It was almost impossible to get me out of the water. September brought temperatures as high as any day in August and my long hair would stick to my neck, my pitts showing perspiration, so I was very careful to wear certain colors in my blouses. With eight kids in the family deodorant wasn't very accessible. So now eighth grade and my home-room teacher, Miss McNulty was anxious for me to arrive. Nothing that day mattered as long as I got to see Mr. Vitalo and I didn't see him as I walked in that day, so I started out moody. I did realize it was the first day, but where was he I thought. Eleven-thirty came and I was back in my home-room class, settled and knowing it was almost time to go home for lunch. Eleven-forty, and the back door opens. I see McNulty smile and some kids turned around. I didn't dare. She had it in for me because of my brother. So I kept sitting, looking and staring ahead, waiting for the lunch bell.
All of a sudden a felt a very firm hand and finger impression on my right shoulder and a squeeze with it, then his voice, so Mac how ya doing this first day? I snapped my head looking up, thought I broke it! I was above Heaven looking into his brown eyes surrounded by his glasses. I knew my face was beet red, and he brought it to the attention of everyone. Kids were laughing out loud, as I was so astounded by not just his hand on my shoulder, but he was talking to me with, our name". He called me Mac! But now he only said hey Mac, I didn't mean to embarrass you, now sit up and get ready for lunch, but first answer me. Wha...huh? He repeated, how is this first day for you? All I could mumble was, uh okay.
Then the bell sounded, lunch and air! We were on the third floor and I ran as fast as I could from school almost knocking over poor Mrs. Wheeler, a very tiny teacher who taught gym of all things, but as tough as Judge Judy. I shouted an apology as I steadied her and kept going. Out the door, outside, air and now I could breathe. No one was around who I could tell. I was a mass of jittery nerves inside, and had to get through the day until I saw Sandy. Three o'clock comes and now the first day is over. I ran home, changed , had to take Jimmy out, so got him dressed and we walked up the block to Sandys'. I rang her bell, and her mom opened the window in their third floor Brownstone apartment, saying Nancy, Sandy is doing her homework. Okay Mrs. W.......... She went on with, she'll be down soon with Judy. Judy, Sandy's little sister and my brother Jimmy didn't allow us much privacy. I'm still holding all this Mr. Vitalo attention in and about to have a breakdown.
I'm outside with Jimmy whining, why can't we go to Mr. Korsuns' house? We will Jimmy, just wait a little, Sandy is coming down with Judy, I told him. He was such a spoiled brat. Then Sandy's old oak wooden door opens from the second floor. Her mom stood there reminding Sandy of rules and stuff. Sandy is polite, looks at me, grins, says hiya Nance. Hiya San, and she starts off tell me about High School, then asks me if i saw Mr. V. I tell her Sandy we have to move away from your house, let's walk to the corner. Jimmy starts whining, and Judy starts with Sandra, mom said...and both Sandy and I say at the same time to our respective little charges, will you shut up for a little while, we're going to the corner, the to visit Mr. Korsun. As we neared the corner, we saw the empty drive-way and a great big stoop to an abandoned building.
In the drive-way I yelled and jumped at the same time, Sandy he came in my class and grabbed my shoulder!!! He called me Mac in front of everyone! Sandy was just as happy for me as I was for me. I gave her all the details as she asked in between all the, but did he say, but did he, but why, but, but, but and more buts. My speech was all messed up, but thank God I got it all out, finally! I thought I'd have to be taken away in an ambulance soon if I didn't get it out. We talked more about school, and the changes Sandy now had to face with High School, an all girls school, poor thing. The little kids waited patiently, so we told them tomorrow we'll ask if we can take them to the donut shop after school, and off we went to see Mr. Korsun. He sat on his stoop smoking, and as we neared, Sandy yelled, hey Mr. Korsun ?, wait til' you hear what happened today.
I'm sitting here as I write and I'm listening to Barbara Mandrell sing, After All These Years. Yeah a heart breaker for sure, but I could see you listening to it and examining the words and asking questions. "Another day is gone, I turn around and find you're still not here". You would ask, what does that mean Mac? But I know you would know, but you'd want to hear it from me, from anyone , any kids who misses you as I do. I replay it over and over again as I remember that fading picture of you watering your garden when Mr. Korsun took me and two friends to visit you in Long Island. "I still see your face as if it was yesterday" (Barbara Mandrell) and I was just entering the eighth grade, and we both know how that ended. Boy, maybe it's not such a good idea to listen to this stuff, but this was/is good music and I know Mr. Vitalo you'd like it too, if for one thing only; A person can understand the words.
Next song, I Was Country When Country Wasn't Cool, ahh sing it Barbara. My favorite part is when George Jones joins in, walking out on stage from her left side, singing as only ol George can, " Hey! I was country, when country wasn't cool, yeah I was country from my hat down to my boots"! They were the best ever in country music and we talked about that at times, remember?
So there I was walking into P.S. 140, corner of fifty-ninth and fourth ave. This time I met up with Bette Lou my other best friend who now seemed far away since I moved to fifty-sixth street. She lived across the street from the school. It used to be so cool when I lived down the block from school, knowing you were just a few accidental steps away if I went for a walk. You know how that goes. Oh hi Mr. Vitalo, I'd say, I didn't know you were still here, but secretly hoping all the time. Bette Lou would laugh every time and ask, hey Nance, doin' one of those, oh hi things? I'd grin and she'd know. Now here we were together, and I had new clothes on. We always had new clothes for school, Spring and Winter. It was my winter clothes that I couldn't wait to buy, but for now, I'd have to settle on this horrible and humid summer stuff.
I never did good in the summer months unless we were at the beach. Then I was like a dolphin, yup I sure was. It was almost impossible to get me out of the water. September brought temperatures as high as any day in August and my long hair would stick to my neck, my pitts showing perspiration, so I was very careful to wear certain colors in my blouses. With eight kids in the family deodorant wasn't very accessible. So now eighth grade and my home-room teacher, Miss McNulty was anxious for me to arrive. Nothing that day mattered as long as I got to see Mr. Vitalo and I didn't see him as I walked in that day, so I started out moody. I did realize it was the first day, but where was he I thought. Eleven-thirty came and I was back in my home-room class, settled and knowing it was almost time to go home for lunch. Eleven-forty, and the back door opens. I see McNulty smile and some kids turned around. I didn't dare. She had it in for me because of my brother. So I kept sitting, looking and staring ahead, waiting for the lunch bell.
All of a sudden a felt a very firm hand and finger impression on my right shoulder and a squeeze with it, then his voice, so Mac how ya doing this first day? I snapped my head looking up, thought I broke it! I was above Heaven looking into his brown eyes surrounded by his glasses. I knew my face was beet red, and he brought it to the attention of everyone. Kids were laughing out loud, as I was so astounded by not just his hand on my shoulder, but he was talking to me with, our name". He called me Mac! But now he only said hey Mac, I didn't mean to embarrass you, now sit up and get ready for lunch, but first answer me. Wha...huh? He repeated, how is this first day for you? All I could mumble was, uh okay.
Then the bell sounded, lunch and air! We were on the third floor and I ran as fast as I could from school almost knocking over poor Mrs. Wheeler, a very tiny teacher who taught gym of all things, but as tough as Judge Judy. I shouted an apology as I steadied her and kept going. Out the door, outside, air and now I could breathe. No one was around who I could tell. I was a mass of jittery nerves inside, and had to get through the day until I saw Sandy. Three o'clock comes and now the first day is over. I ran home, changed , had to take Jimmy out, so got him dressed and we walked up the block to Sandys'. I rang her bell, and her mom opened the window in their third floor Brownstone apartment, saying Nancy, Sandy is doing her homework. Okay Mrs. W.......... She went on with, she'll be down soon with Judy. Judy, Sandy's little sister and my brother Jimmy didn't allow us much privacy. I'm still holding all this Mr. Vitalo attention in and about to have a breakdown.
I'm outside with Jimmy whining, why can't we go to Mr. Korsuns' house? We will Jimmy, just wait a little, Sandy is coming down with Judy, I told him. He was such a spoiled brat. Then Sandy's old oak wooden door opens from the second floor. Her mom stood there reminding Sandy of rules and stuff. Sandy is polite, looks at me, grins, says hiya Nance. Hiya San, and she starts off tell me about High School, then asks me if i saw Mr. V. I tell her Sandy we have to move away from your house, let's walk to the corner. Jimmy starts whining, and Judy starts with Sandra, mom said...and both Sandy and I say at the same time to our respective little charges, will you shut up for a little while, we're going to the corner, the to visit Mr. Korsun. As we neared the corner, we saw the empty drive-way and a great big stoop to an abandoned building.
In the drive-way I yelled and jumped at the same time, Sandy he came in my class and grabbed my shoulder!!! He called me Mac in front of everyone! Sandy was just as happy for me as I was for me. I gave her all the details as she asked in between all the, but did he say, but did he, but why, but, but, but and more buts. My speech was all messed up, but thank God I got it all out, finally! I thought I'd have to be taken away in an ambulance soon if I didn't get it out. We talked more about school, and the changes Sandy now had to face with High School, an all girls school, poor thing. The little kids waited patiently, so we told them tomorrow we'll ask if we can take them to the donut shop after school, and off we went to see Mr. Korsun. He sat on his stoop smoking, and as we neared, Sandy yelled, hey Mr. Korsun ?, wait til' you hear what happened today.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
The Secret Door
The Secret Door
There was a secret window attached to a wall
It had a secret door attached to a secret floor.
This house was mine or maybe it was yours
A very secret house, with whispering secret floors.
Creaking could be heard day in and day out
But mostly it was heard when no one was about.
How could it be I know you think when no one was about
But then again I wonder who came in and out.
a whispering voice could be heard under the secret door
if you lay still enough, you could hear so much more.
Quiet and still like you were dead an ear pressed so still
by the door so secret, the secrets gave a chill.
Still I wonder when time to sleep what was it that I heard
The sounds of children or adults or maybe a little bird.
I never heard the sound so clear that it would be
a definite story of secrets to pass from you to me.
Or maybe I did but cannot tell because secrets like gossip be
only as Honorable as the secrets with people like you and me.
More so now I can say what I saw the other day
I watched a movie it can be told in only one true way.
It told of gossip out of hand and how it flees the truth about
The movie left an impression, namely it was called "Doubt"
The priest recounted a story, how once gossip once you choose
if you cut a pillow in half, feathers fly, uncaptured, set loose.
There was a secret house, which had a secret door
and I hope to live enough to know secrets no more.
For when a secret passes, a secret it is never again
so keep it always to yourself, and that will be the end.
There was a secret window attached to a wall
It had a secret door attached to a secret floor.
This house was mine or maybe it was yours
A very secret house, with whispering secret floors.
Creaking could be heard day in and day out
But mostly it was heard when no one was about.
How could it be I know you think when no one was about
But then again I wonder who came in and out.
a whispering voice could be heard under the secret door
if you lay still enough, you could hear so much more.
Quiet and still like you were dead an ear pressed so still
by the door so secret, the secrets gave a chill.
Still I wonder when time to sleep what was it that I heard
The sounds of children or adults or maybe a little bird.
I never heard the sound so clear that it would be
a definite story of secrets to pass from you to me.
Or maybe I did but cannot tell because secrets like gossip be
only as Honorable as the secrets with people like you and me.
More so now I can say what I saw the other day
I watched a movie it can be told in only one true way.
It told of gossip out of hand and how it flees the truth about
The movie left an impression, namely it was called "Doubt"
The priest recounted a story, how once gossip once you choose
if you cut a pillow in half, feathers fly, uncaptured, set loose.
There was a secret house, which had a secret door
and I hope to live enough to know secrets no more.
For when a secret passes, a secret it is never again
so keep it always to yourself, and that will be the end.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)