The Things We Don't Say. In memory of Alex.

I didn’t know him very well but I knew him well enough to remember him.  He was a well-known personality at HHS during our years there.  Pretty much everyone knew who he was.

Only during our production of HARVEY in November of 1989, where Lawrence brought him in from one of his classes to play “Duane Wilson” in grand fashion, did I get to know him at all.  I learned, of course, that he was Sal’s son, and a great deal more.  He was a natural on the stage and we all lamented that he had waited until his senior year to perform.  I was glad he did and remember a lot of very engaging and entertaining conversations during the months leading up to the show.

We were friendly after the show closed, in which he was very good.  We’d nod at one another in the hallway, though I wouldn’t go so far as to say we were ever close friends.  There was no reason why not-just different people in different circles that coincided at times. 

For the remainder of his senior year, I saw him at Sal’s periodically and at a few Class of ’90 graduation parties.  After graduation we chatted once or twice, again at Sal’s, which if you are from anywhere near exit 8 off the NJT, should have been your pizza of record.  They’ve put Little Caesars, Dominos, and that dumb place with the white broccoli pizza out of business over the years.  They are working on Papa John’s now.  John stands zero chance.  My children still equate Sal’s pizza as the greatest ever, and they only get it on special occasions after moving to Virginia by way of Hawaii.  They most recently enjoyed it after I brought one home from Jersey in the trunk of their Aunt’s car.  It couldn’t ride in the car with us as I am a recovering fat guy, and that thing woulda been straight gone before we reached Delaware.

So, we’ve gone to Sal’s, my family and I for years and years.  Every time I went there after ’89, I thought to ask about Alex-how he was doing, etc.  As I mentioned above, I saw him there a few times and we said hello.  I remember getting a “he’s doing well” one time I went in and he wasn’t there.   I was glad to hear it, but over the years as I moved in and out of Jersey a few times, my visits were less frequent, but I always meant to ask about him when I went in.  I always meant to ask again.

I was in Sal’s about a little over a month ago and I felt very much the same way-I was there with my mother and sister and it was my first in store visit in about two years.  Even though I left Jersey in 2007, Sal’s remains the Pizza of record, so we always make an effort.  Again, I felt compelled to ask about how he was doing. 

But I didn’t.  I hadn’t seen him in well over ten years, was sure he wouldn’t remember me, felt silly asking-I don’t know what put me off it, really.  I don’t know why I didn’t ask when I was clearly thinking about him, in his restaurant.  Shouldn’t have been that much of a stretch…but I didn’t ask.  Maybe I’ve been out of Jersey too long, but I just talked myself out of asking.

But I wish that I had.

In the end, I know it doesn’t make much difference in either the unfortunate and tragic loss of life to the Alex’s family and their many well-deserved friends and admirers, but I wish that I had asked about him one more time, I imagine I would have received the same sort of reply that I got in the past.  I wasn’t a close friend, just a casual acquaintance who did a play with him back in 1989.  I certainly wouldn’t have warranted any other reply.

But I wish that I had asked because I genuinely wanted to know how he was doing.  I liked Alex and thought of him every time we even drove by Sal’s, much less walked in for a slice.  I talked myself out of it last month figuring, maybe I’ll catch him in there next time.

And I’m again faced with the harsh learning of a lesson that I should know by now having already buried my father, among others: allowing things to be left unsaid is rarely a solid policy.  The ledger of things we allow to remain unsaid to the people in our lives, especially as they leave it, either through dying, simply leaving, or otherwise, grows only because we are afraid, or insecure, or just don’t choose to take the chance to say.

Although I won’t say I knew him well, I’ll say this: Alex never struck me as a man who left many things unsaid. 

“I was at HHS with Alex back in the day-how’s he doing these days?”

I didn’t say it last month when I was in his store.  I regret it.  I wish I had.

And so my own ledger grows.  Hopefully my wisdom will join it.

God Speed, Alex.

I like being that guy. Or: why I have given up on being upwardly mobile--also including a John Lennon quote!

I like being that guy. 

Or; why I have given up on being upwardly mobile—including a nearly pointless John Lennon reference!

Aloha once again from Northern Virginia.  Seems it was only yesterday I was writing my last column, but it’s been nearly two months.  Again, it’s not that I’ve had nothing to say, but that there has not been time in which to say it well.  Hope I can remedy that in the future.

The end of the school year approaches once again like a freight train and I find myself facing it with equal measures of excitement and trepidation.  While it’s the summer, and we’ve got some fun things planned, it’s the summer, and the structure of school has been valuable for all of us both on and off the spectrum.

Things have generally begun to mellow at home a bit as we have learned more about Asperger’s and have made adjustments in our life and home.  When things have been good of late, they have been really, unusually good.  When they have been challenging, they have been somewhat briefer than the more difficult times in the recent past.  So, we have felt like we are making progress.  We have good doctors and they have helped a lot.

As an aside, I received a ton of email regarding the last column, “I am a recovering Fat Guy” and I am very thankful for that.  Apparently, everyone wanted to call me funny fat names, but not everyone was willing to post them directly to the site in comments.  “Lord Fatty McLardington” remains my favorite.  I am currently down over 70 and doing well, though I overtrained and “winged my scapula” recently.  I’m working through it, and in better shape now than when I got married in 1999, though I think I had better hair then.  I really did mean what I said last column though-if you have read this far and ever see me plumping up again, you’d better ridicule me into compliance…

Moving right along, things have been good here the last few months and it’s led me to a realization that I’ve been pondering for some time.  When I think about my life as it is now, which is something I have done quite a bit lately, especially with the Bear heading to full day Kindergarten next year, I find that for the first time in a long time, I’m actually kind of satisfied with my station in life.  That’s not something I’ve ever genuinely felt I could say at an alarming rate in my life to date.  In the old days it was, “well, I’m the Assistant, but I could be the Head” or “I’m a Vice Principal-I could be a Principal” or, “I’m a waiter-I could be a bartender.”  It always seemed like no matter where I was or what I was doing it mattered more what I was working towards.  Never was there time, not even in Hawaii, to be satisfied with where I was presently.

That’s kind of a big thing for me.  This is not to suggest that I am not working on things and trying to improve as a father, a husband, a friend, a writer, a family relation; those things are very much a part of what I try to do on a daily basis.  I think my dedication to living healthier is nothing if not a capital example of my dedication to self-improvement.  There’s a lot to improve on.

But in the past, everything I did seemed to be an attempt to get to something else.  What’s scary is that when I think about it now, I don’t really want to be any of those things that I so earnestly worked genuinely hard for.  I wanted to teach and so I did.  I wanted to coach and so I did.  And then, for a variety of reasons, I decided I had to head the department.  Then I had to move into administration.  Then I had to move up in administration.  Then I had to get a Master’s.  So I got one.  Then I moved into public school administration.  And then I wanted to move up, and up, and up.  And we all know how that worked out. 

Even living on Oahu, an experience that in some ways I feel like I am only now just beginning to really understand, I found myself at times lost in the same cycle of dissatisfaction.  I was a stay-at-home dad, clearly just figuring out how to do it all, but I remember still feeling that pull to do more.  Even when I worked at Chili’s there, I remember doing very well as a server and was blessed with a very flexible schedule, but I started studying to take the bar test and a few other upwardly-mobile programs within the store.  I kept going with it until a friend there asked me “why are you doing all that?”   She wasn’t rude or out of line-we were friends.  She was just genuinely curious.  I waffled for a minute and then she asked, “No really, how come?”  I found I didn’t have an answer.  With my schedule and my life as it was there was no benefit to me doing any of those other measures.  And once I realized I had no real answer I saw that I had no real reason to continue, and I donated my flash cards to a young go-getter.  She did pretty well for herself as memory serves, which sometimes it doesn’t as I get older.

Honestly, I only realized the importance of that conversation just now as I wrote about it.  For those of you who’ve asked me: that right there is why I write.  I just never know what I just might teach my dumb ass down the line. 

Now, on the eve of the anniversary of our departure from Oahu, I find myself looking at this coming September and all three of my being in school full days coupled with the fact that most of the people I both know and have never met before seem to be wondering about my plans with a newly minted sense of Aloha.  I’m feeling pretty good just as I am.

I just took my oldest daughter to her first dance.  I wore my old tux (it’s big now-but it fits again!) and we had an amazing time, although my “Cha-cha slide” is rusty from having not had to chaperone the last five years-worth of Proms.    I’ve put my kids on the bus and been there when they got off of it every single day for the last two years.  I’ve volunteered at the library during the twins weekly time there twice a week, and I tell you there is nothing greater than the smile and wave when they see me walk in to check out books.  It’s better than any professional accolade I ever earned, and they weren’t many, I assure you.  I’ve hosted playgroup.  I’ve cooked for other families in need.  I’ve made up games and played them (and lost thoroughly) with the Bear in the time I have with her before the twins get home. 

And I get to take that same Bear to her Spring Tea tomorrow.  She’s insisted that I wear the same Tuxedo that I wore for her sister’s dance, and I will do so happily. 

I don’t mention these things as a way to put myself over.  Most of you who read this will understand that I live most of my days with a healthy sense of self-loathing and deprecation.  I mention them only because they were awesome and I would never have had the chance to do any of them if I were still wrapped up in being the next something else.  Instead, at least for now, I think I’ll just try to be the best damn Kugs I can be. 

It’s kind of refreshing, and I don’t want to think about there being a day when they won’t want me to help out in school.  Don’t want to even think that such a thing could happen.  Tonight I read books with my kids on the couch under a blanket.  Among others we are re-reading “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe” right now.  We get our other school work done and then go down to the couch and put on the Phillies or Flyers game with the sound off, and we read. 

And they love it.  And so do I.

And there is no other job in the world I want than this one, as long as they’ll have me.  I like being the Dad that helps at school and other stuff.  And quite frankly, I can’t think of anything else I want to do than be better at the life I have.

John Lennon, who was a great artist but is not my favorite Beatle once wrote that “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”  I think there is some truth to that, but I think that life is also what occurs to you when you slow down and let it happen.  Far  be it from me to argue with the Walrus but, I think you get my point.  At least I hope you do as if you’ve read this far, you’re likely looking for one.

So, I will continue to, as they say on Oahu, if they speak Hawaiian: “Kulia i ka Nu‘u.”  It means strive for the summit.  I like it.  And I like being this guy too.  And if being upwardly mobile means I have to stop doing what I’m doing, then feel free to call me anything you like to the contrary.

I am a recovering Fat Guy.

Again, it has been far too long since my last posting. Life has been extremely busy as it always seems to be. While I have started several different columns during the nine weeks or so since my New Year’s Eve column, none of them really got off the ground as I hope this one does. Life in our home has changed dramatically since I last wrote. While I had planned to re-dedicate myself to a routine of diet and exercise after the New Year, I did not plan to have quite so much fun and become a part of a really cool community of people who were dedicated to the same goal as I: getting healthy and staying healthy. The group is a bit of a secret, so I won’t divulge much here except to say that while we are all over the world, we all have connections to the great state of New Jersey, and we are using the internet as a way to encourage and support one another, and occasionally share recipes. And the support of that group has made all the difference to me this time. While I have had periods of healthy living before in my life, times when I’ve cut weight and gotten myself back into shape; they inevitably came to an end. Once it was due to spinal surgery. Other times it was due to plummeting off the horse at Oktoberfest and never climbing back on. There were moves and a few bouts with IBS that threw me off track too. Early last year, I was doing well until a brief stress-related hospitalization led me to give up, and the subsequent “ballooning” was horrendous. But I always had the power to choose to get back on track. Sometimes I did. When I weighed in nine weeks ago today, I was the heaviest I have ever been in my entire life. I was eating and drinking everything possible, whether or not I was hungry or thirsty. One of the worst habits I got into was, I would feed the kids their meals, and whatever they didn’t eat, I would eat rather than wrap it up for later or toss it. I was becoming a food hoarder. None of my clothes fit. I couldn’t sleep and I was sweating through my pillow at night. I was snoring and congested. I had high blood pressure and was given medication for it. I was overwhelmingly stressed and given medication for that too. I felt and looked like absolute garbage. Period. There is no other way to state it. Most of the people in my life were too polite to say anything or they had never known me to be anything but an overweight person. We’ve not been here two years yet and I was not in the best shape of my life when we moved here after a month in the Hilton Hawaiian Village in Waikiki. As readers of this space will know, this has been a difficult year in our home. With our journey through the IEP process and learning about Asperger’s, it has been a very tumultuous time, though I am pleased to report that we are really beginning to see some progress, though it remains a constant influence on our lives. (We did get the IEP though. Check out this column from last year if you’re curious about that journey: http://alohakugs.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-cant-do-it-all-why-im-no-longer.html ) My extended family is facing some serious health matters as well. Our life, much like yours I imagine, had stress. And in the end, I was handling it very, very badly. I had us go out to eat more, and was cooking a lot more meals that were just unbalanced. Too much beef and pizza and beer and rum on Aloha Fridays, and huge vats of Diet Coke and tankards of Starbucks, and it was all just too much. It was never a question of “am I hungry?” It was simply a matter of “Yeah, I could eat.” And eat I did. And exercise I didn’t. I said, “I don’t have the time.” Or, I would put a deadline on myself. “After Oktoberfest, I’ll get going.” That then became, “Ok, after the HHS reunion I will get going.” And then it became, “Well, Thanksgiving is right there….and then Christmas…and there’s that dinner party in October” and the next thing you know, I’m fat again. I stopped making excuses, as I just stopped caring. I didn’t want my picture taken. I didn’t have a suit that fit anymore. If I had been invited to a wedding or had a funeral to attend, I would have had to get a new suit to accommodate how fat I was. My friends all bought Lederhosen from Europe to wear to our annual Oktoberfest, and mine won’t fit. Even that ridicule didn’t faze me this time, deserved as it was. Around Christmas I began to look at myself in the mirror and it was just appalling. I decided that the New Year would be the new start-and it would have been. But I don’t know if I would be where I am now; almost 50 pounds lighter, at least 4 inches smaller at the waist, and heading into my first 5k race this Sunday, without the support of my wife and kids, and of this secret group of friends. I’ve completed nine weeks of the “Insanity Workout” program (I highly recommend it: http://www.beachbody.com/product/fitness_programs/insanity.do ) and I’m starting the program over again. I hope to do another 5k next month. I’m eating a much healthier diet, based on Dr. Ian Smith’s Fat Smash program. It’s working, and I have more to lose, but I feel better, I look better, I’m sleeping better, I think I’m better to my family, and I’m getting a lot more done in my life. But, will I be able to maintain it? That’s always been the question. At some point, I expect to be at a healthy weight I can live at. Then what do I do? I plan to see a nutritionist and get some help with planning an appropriate diet for the rest of my life. I also plan to keep running and working out, either with more Insanity, or something similar, as I have learned through this that I need a coach-I need someone telling me how fast to go or what interval to keep. When I used to go to the gym and frack around on the elliptical, I would not push myself. I need to be directed, as it’s not in my nature to push myself athletically. That’s why the best years I had as a student athlete were those where I worked with a coach that wouldn’t put up with my nonsense. The tougher the coaches were on me, the better I did-always. So, now I know that about myself. I’ve found myself wanting to work out when I feel stress, which is a much healthier coping mechanism than treating myself at Starbucks or downing a whole bag of pretzels with cheese melted on top, at least for me. I will have to maintain a high level of exercise, likely 6-7 days a week in some way, or, I know I will I start to slack off, and the cycle begins again. So, please help me stay on that. More on your role later. I’m also not embarrassed to report that I see a therapist. Not every week, but regularly and as needed. She’s very good, and she also sees through my nonsense. It’s helpful, and I highly recommend it to everyone. A $20 copay to yap about yourself for an hour? I can dig that. I plan to donate all of my fat clothes, soon. Then I get to hit the thrift stores for some new stuff that fits. I’ve got to get the things out that will allow me to not notice when I’ve put on a few. I realize now that I have to be strict with myself, as it’s not really going to be a lasting lifestyle change if it’s easily put aside. I’m not getting any younger and I’ve learned recently that while none of us truly know the number of our days, there are certainly good and healthy choices that can help us live those days in a healthy and positive way. I’ve been thinking on that point a lot lately. So, that brings me to your role. It’s an important one, so I hope you’re up for it. You, my friend, be you a perfect stranger, a casual reader or a real-life friend, have permission to ridicule me and lambast me if I get fat again. Make it hurt-go for the jugular. Ask me if I’m smuggling tires under that fleece that I wore last August because even though it’s hot it hides the gut a bit. You have carte-blanche permission to call me “Fatty McFatterson” or “Hefty TonsoFun” if you want, or even to inquire if I’m going out for the Northern Virginia Sumo Team. If that’s simply not in your character to do, I admire that. Perhaps, if you’re willing you could be more subtle. Here are a few suggestions if you’re not comfortable calling me “Blimper MacCorpulaent:” “Hey, Aloha Kugs: are you still running?” Or perhaps “How’s that Insanity workout going? Is Shaun T. still kicking your butt?” If you’re really intrepid though, feel free to simply say, “Trying out some new desert recipes in that crock pot there, Kugs?” I mean it-you have your orders. But my hope is to never have to put you in that position again. My name is Aloha Kugs I am a recovering fat guy. It has been nine weeks since I started this journey. I mean for it to last my whole life, so if you can help me with that along the way, you have my thanks. To my family and to my “Group of Losers” I thank you more than you know. That’s enough for now. I’ve got to go steam my brown rice and broccoli. With hot sauce. I like it. Until next time, Aloha.

As another year ends...Reflections from Aloha Kugs

Well, 2011 has been a year. Some of it good. Some of it not, but say whatever else you want about it, 2011 has been a year.

And along comes another. I’ve not posted as much in this space as I had hoped this year, but hope that what I’ve posted has been worth your time to read. Thank you as always for your kind support and indulgence.

So what has this year been all about? In no particular order, I share the following observations on the year:

Starting it off with an anger management lesson courtesy of a broken hand was pretty rough as far as beginnings go. This summer’s “unpleasant incident” that led to a nifty ride in an ambulance was another banner moment, but we have persevered. Therapy helps.

We started the year not understanding what our Asperger’s child’s issues were (Our first theory was hypoglycemia-what a difference a year makes…). We end it with a far more understanding and sensitivity. I’ll touch on this more shortly.

I started the year with huge aspirations of selling my novel, of which I remain quite proud, and end it having shelved it and all other publishing dreams, save of course this ‘lil blog. Lucky us, I know…

My Phillies, Flyers, Eagles, and Buckeyes failed to win championships.

The twins have done Taekwondo for a year. Broke a few boards along the way too. They’ve played two seasons of soccer and the Boyo played Rugby. They do well at school. The Boyo is among the top readers in first grade and the Girl was called “A dream child” by her teacher. They have both been featured in the school art gallery.

The Bear played T-ball, more or less, and has turned into a seriously good artist. She does well in school and gives excellent full speed hugs. When she’s not screaming her head off, she’s a genuinely fun and funny kid. Baby Ruff-Ruff has had a year filled with adventures as well.

The Muppets came back! Now bring back “The Muppet Show!”

I single-handedly did two plumbing repairs that would have likely cost us about $200 each to have a pro complete. And to date, they appear to be working.

CM Punk and Daniel Bryan (“American Dragon” Brian Danielson) are both World Champions.

I lost weight and chopped off my long hair. Then I gained some back and my hair is long again. Both will be addressed in the New Year.

My Emmy-award winning sister just won another award. She’d want me to mention that.

REM broke up.

My wife still likes me.

Clarence Clemons, Patrice O’Neal, Hubert Sumlin, Bill Keane, Joe Frazier, Randy Savage, and Pinetop Perkins all died. Other people did too. Clarence and Patrice passing were particularly disheartening.

I believe I saw seven movies in an actual movie theater. Best of them was Woody Allen’s “Midnight in Paris.” Great movie. Honorable mention goes to “The Muppets,” “The Descendants,” and the final installment of the “Harry Potter” series.

We watched a lot of DVD’s, as we have children and are old, and that’s what you’re supposed to do since you can’t ever leave the house. Off the top of my head I remember enjoying Woo classmate Duncan Jones’ “Source Code” and “Horrible Bosses” had a few yucks.

Was a very solid year for TV in the Aloha Kugs home. HBO’s “Game of Thrones” was an answer to prayer. I also enjoyed “Boardwalk Empire.” AMC’s “Walking Dead” was great as well, and I’m not really a zombie guy. FX series “Louie,” “Wilfred,” and “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” were tremendous, and I’m excited that there is a network out there that is allowing creative people to be funny. I haven’t seen “Breaking Bad” yet, so don’t yell at me… Doctor Who and Merlin get a nod as well from the BBC.

I read a ton this year. Notable highlights: “Ready Player One” by Ernest Cline. Although it’s not a new book, “World War Z” by Max Brooks was transcendently good. I also enjoyed Martin’s “A Dance with Dragons” (took you long enough George…), and Rothfuss’ “The Wise Man’s Fear.” I inhaled the “Hunger Games” series and made headway towards finally finishing the History of the Yuengling family.

Didn’t buy a ton of music this year, as it costs money, but The Decemberists “The King is Dead” is probably my favorite for the year. Honorable mention to the new Coldplay and last year’s Mumford & Sons, which I was late getting to. Have an ITunes card burning a hole in my pocket though…

So, in all, it’s been a year. What does 2012 have to offer? Hell if I know, but I imagine we will face many of the same challenges and questions we faced this year. We will learn more about Asperger’s and apply it to making the life of our family more positive and productive. I won’t discuss the incident from Thanksgiving here, because I don’t want to, but it was rough and resulted in a 7 hour drive home in the middle of the night. We survived and continue to learn how to cope.

Will I go to work? I don’t know. I don’t really want to wait tables again, though I think I could bartend in the right circumstance. I may look into those tutoring places. A little extra cash is always helpful, but not sure what I’ll be able to do before the Bear starts Kindergarten in the fall. I think I’ve covered this question pretty well here this year, but it will likely continue to be a topic for discussion in the future.

I have a whole pile of unfinished columns for this space that I shelved for a variety of reasons. Some were too personal involving members of my extended family. Some of them just stopped being interesting as I wrote them. Others just stunk. I may revisit some of them but my hope is to have new and interesting things to say in 2012.

In the end, it has been a year and I enter 2012 much as I entered 2011: uncertain what the future holds for us, but hopeful just the same. In that spirit, I wish you and yours a Hau’oli Makahiki Hou with much Aloha.

I made the right choice

It is now four years since I left my career in education. Prior to that, I had spent nearly thirteen years as a pro, not counting my three years in the minors as a student teacher and undergraduate. During my tenure, a term I use with rather purposeful irony, I have taught: English, History, Language Arts, Spanish, Music, Theater: Performance, Theater: Technical Arts, Jazz History, ESL, Public Speaking, Literature, and Creative Writing.

By way of full disclosure, I should note that I have also served administratively as: Artistic Director of the Theater Program, Assistant Dean of Students, Associate Dean of Students, Dean of Students, Assistant Principal, Director of Athletics, and Head Dorm Parent.

I have served in many ways, though to be frank; most of those titles were earned by simply showing up, clearly giving a damn about the students, and not being a real obvious asshole. What happened after the shine faded is a matter for history to decide. I maintain that I held onto my idealism and genuine belief in education, including the fact that schools should serve the needs of the students and their families. If I had a dollar for every time that one of my bosses told me that I was too idealistic, and that I’d last longer in the business if I learned to “go along” and “let go of the ‘change the world crap,’” then I would have been able to leave the educational industry with far more financial security that I actually did, as it happens.

I have no real complaints about my career as a teacher. I was appropriately awful when I first started out as a young teacher. Deeply inspired by “Dead Poets Society,” Alice Burnett, and my dead father, I spent years imitating and pretending, accomplishing little until I eventually figured out how to I was meant to teach. I learned a lot at SKS, where I was blessed with a group of students who had no problem telling me when my bullshit didn’t work. They were a tough audience, but a fair one. They forced me to give them something that mattered, and I still look back on my years there as among the better years I’ve had as an educator. My students at SKS made me a better teacher. The two years I then had at PJ, which I still consider the greatest teaching I have ever done, were only possible because of the four years I completed at SKS.

PJ was about the happiest time I ever knew as a teacher. I was valued and given freedom to teach the books I wanted to teach in the manner I wanted to teach them. It was really exciting for me as a teacher to be asked, “What do you want to do?” There are many things I miss about my life as an educator, and each school I have left behind has a place in that lexicon, but to date there is nothing that stirs me in the same way as remembering that moment when Fitz told me, “Well, it’s your class…do what you feel called to do. We believe in you.” I would go back there and teach tomorrow if I could.

But, as life happened, I left PJ as I left SKS, and that other place before it. I became an assistant principal in the Boro, and then finally in the Grove. There were a lot of very positive moments during my time there and I felt like I made a difference at times. But I was never really able to shake that sense of dedication to the students and in turn, the families and staff members that genuinely supported them. I still believed that schools were in place to serve students and their families. But as I rather painfully learned, over and over again; schools, just like any other enterprise, will only serve others as far as their leadership will allow them. Leaders, despite our hopes and dreams, sometimes don’t think of others first. So many of the people I “worked for” had lost sight of what a school was really for.

So, Headmasters sometimes think of money before campus peace and personal morality; Superintendents think of their political aspirations before they think of their constituency; Principals sometimes think of themselves before they think of the people who paved the way for them; Some teachers think of their pensions before they think twice about passing a student who truly believes that Delaware is the capital of New Jersey and Hillary Clinton was the Vice President for George W. Bush. Sometimes an elected Board of Education will persecute a teacher who has had a positive impact on her students, simply because that teacher is a graduate of their districts arch-rival. And sometimes they call an educator “uppity” when they don’t think anyone is listening.

All of those things happened. I know this because I saw them happen.

When I left PG, I did so for two reasons-the most important of which is that my wife was receiving an amazing promotion and chance for advancement in her career, which gave our family an amazing opportunity to have an adventure on Oahu. But, the second reason, which I’ve never spoken of in this space, is that I was in my tenure year at PG as the Assistant Principal and the Athletic Director, and while I feel I had done well and felt like I had some support from the staff, kids, and community, and that the programs were doing well overall, I was told, in no uncertain terms, that my renewal in the position beyond the tenure year was very much “undecided and up for debate.” I was told, very directly, that despite my performance, my tenure in the coming year was dependent on the decision of the Superintendent, who after hiring me enthusiastically, had soured on me after I chose to respect and admire my direct supervisor, the Principal at PGHS. I was told “you picked the wrong side.” In retrospect, I know in my heart, and in all other manners that I made the right choices for myself during my time there. There were good people that I worked with there in PG and there are good people there now. I wish them nothing but the best.

But, I didn’t trust the Superintendent, or the Board, with the kind of power that they were capable of exerting on my life. As it was, I was working a minimum of six days a week, nearly twelve hours a day, and driving at least 100 miles a day for events and meetings. I was leaving my home before my children awoke and returning after they had gone to sleep. Most of those days, I didn’t see them. If I was lucky, I would come home just in time for bedtime.

I remember vividly a night I came home on the earlier side due to rainouts. As I walked in, the kids saw me, and cheered, “Daddy’s home, it’s bedtime!” and they ran upstairs to their room. They had learned to equate my arrival with bedtime. I remember more nights than I can count where I drove home only to see the lights in their rooms off. The worst of them all would be seeing the lights on as I pulled up only to see them turn off as they had clearly just been put to bed and I had just missed it, by only a moment. That happened a lot. Countless bedtimes missed.

And so, I’m left with my own reflection now on the fact that four years ago, I left my job to stay home with the kids. At the time, the twins were three and the Bear was one. I left my job, gleefully (and providentially perhaps) as it happened, and arrived in Hawaii with absolutely no idea what the hell I was doing.

The Bear just turned five and the twins turn seven on Sunday. I’ve been home with them for most of their lives. And now I feel like I finally get it.

I made the right choice back in 2007. I left my career behind and while I truly don’t know what would have transpired back then had I played things out, I cannot imagine in any way that it would end up being more significant than the life I have chosen. I took a beating from a lot of people in my life back in 2007 when I left my job and chose to stay home. Hell, I still get grief from certain pockets of my family about being a stay-at-home dad. There are those who still don’t understand me. But, I made the right choice and I know it now. The last four years with my children has been amazing in ways that I fall regrettably short of having the talent to describe. I still get grief for “not working” and yet, I somehow manage to have more to do than I ever did when I “worked for a living.”

I made the right choice. I won’t go so far as to say that I am done with education, as I have found myself feeling the itch to teach again, now and then. I think it is safe to say that education, at least as it manifested itself in the old days of my career, may itself be done with me. I’m not who I was then. I have good memories, and I’m quite content to leave those memories alone.

But, as Vonnegut would have said, “So it goes,” and so it does. I have never felt more strongly that my choice to be home with my children was the right one. I had an amazing adventure in Hawaii with them and then another one here in Northern Virginia. My youngest, who I’ve been hanging out with for almost 4 years now, is heading to Kindergarten next year. I can’t believe how quickly it has gone. She and I have been together for her whole life, at least most of the time. While the twins have been at school a year or so now, and readers of this space will know that they have some challenges as well, we have spent a lot of time with one another and worked hard to maintain a sense of togetherness.

The way I see it, had I stayed at PG, I would likely have had to go in front of the board to fight for my job. I truly believe it would have come to that. I honestly feel like I would have been incapable of kissing the amount of asses it would have taken to have avoided that showdown, and in truth, despite it all, I would likely have lost. Without tenure, I served at the pleasure of the Board and the Superintendent. I liked it there, but it was made clear to me that my tenure was a pawn on a rather insidious chess board. I was never so glad to take my piece off the board. I miss the staff and the kids. I could have been happy there for a long time. But it was made clear that I was not going to be welcome, as I had a shelf life in PG. They told me so. It made me sad. I would like to have stayed. But I was not wanted, and so when the chance to move on to be home with my kids arose, I took it. I used to feel guilty that I left during the year, which I know is difficult for a school. I don’t feel that way anymore. I just saved them the trouble of having to watch me fight for my job, which I would have done. I would have fought them. And I would have lost. So, I don’t regret it. My choices have been discussed in this space for nearly four years, and whatever can be said, I will say this: I am imperfect, as I have always been, but I am good at what I do.

Maybe I don’t get paid, now. Maybe I don’t get the prestige of a “title” and the honor of a “business card.” Perhaps I may not be anyone’s idea of an impressive adult, but I truly and finally have come to the point in my life that I really don’t give a turkey. I am a man, and my children are my life. I’ve been with them constantly over the last four years. That is time that I would never have been able to get back. So, I am grateful.

I am grateful for my life. For every district I worked for or wanted to work for that rejected me; I am grateful.

If any of you thought I was worth hiring or keeping, I wouldn’t have had the last four years flying solo with my kids. And I wouldn’t trade that for all anything, including that offered stay at the Waldorf-Astoria.

I chose a different path, and I'll admit that I've struggled with that choice at times over the years. But I know now that it was the right one for me and my family and I'm thankful each day with my wife and children.

I had the chance to make a choice about my life and I made one, as Steve would say, 'way outside my comfort zone.'

I suppose, and that, as Frost said, “Has made all the difference.”

Well said, dude. Aloha.

Waking up to an Asperger’s World

Readers of this space will know that I’ve always guarded the privacy of my family. They will also know that I recently went through a rather difficult ordeal working to obtain services for my child at their public school here in Northern Virginia. While I will continue to guard the privacy of my family, I think it is safe to reveal something that I and my family have known for some time now, though the clinical diagnosis is more recent than the one of the heart. I have a child with Asperger’s Syndrome. I’m fine with it. I love my kids. That said, I hope you will excuse my occasionally ‘more awkward than usual’ prose as I figure out how to navigate the line between productive and unproductive sharing. I thank all of you for your comments on the last post, most of which were sent directly to me. Your thoughtfulness is appreciated. Moving on…

The more I read about Asperger’s Syndrome, the more I find myself disappointed that my dad is not here. Since he’s been dead over 21 years, there have been a lot of moments along the way where I have been disappointed that he’s not around.

My dad had a Master’s in Education from SHU, and I followed him so diligently that I got one from there too. He, however, dedicated his career and focused his attention on adapting the principles of physical education for kids with special needs. He was never happier than when he was teaching the most challenged students, both physically and developmentally, in his district. When he was developing his program back in the 1970’s and ‘80’s, there was debate as to whether it was prudent or appropriate to attempt to offer PE to special needs students. Dad felt that it was not only appropriate, but vital and necessary for the health and development of all kids, regardless of disability or challenge. I feel that history has proven him right on this point.

Dad didn’t talk about school all that much with me, which saddens me a bit in retrospect. I wish he had been more emotive about the great passion of his career and about his frustrations, which would so later perfectly mirror my own frustrations in my own career: I became disillusioned when the people in power forgot about reaching kids, just as he did. But, I was a kid then, and dad was always one to separate home and work very clearly. I wish I hadn’t had to hear stories about his work almost exclusively from other people, but I suppose I am grateful that I heard them at all. He was good at what he did and worked with each child individually to find a way to push them and reach measured goals. He taught them to enjoy sports and exercise and to accomplish things that most people not only said they could not do, but things they would never have dreamed possible for them. I’ve often told the story of the blind girl that he trained to run the 50-yard dash-something I assure you she was exempted from in her IEP. She wanted to do it and he wanted her to as well-and so she did. My favorite part of that story was always how they got started, which involved all the other kids in the class spreading out and lining the lane on the track to help steer her straight if she drifted. Heck of a teachable moment for an entire class. I wasn’t there and I get chills telling the story-I can’t imagine what it must have been like to be part of that moment.

Dad was inducted into the Hall of Fame for his North Jersey school district. Posthumously, of course, but I remember it as a nice event. It was an honor he would likely have rolled his eyes at privately, yet accepted with grace and humility. I know I was very proud that day and somewhat inspired, already a few years into my own educational career at the time.

Outside of all that, though, I do find that I mourn, just a little the fact that he’s not here to interact with my children, one of whom was recently diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome. There have been a lot of moments that I’ve felt like Dad and that child in particular would have gotten along really well. Heck, there are times, now that I know more about Asperger’s that I wonder if my dad may have been on the spectrum himself. Not sure it’s that far off to say so. As a grandparent who might have been uniquely positioned to be of help to us now, to provide assistance and help from a career spent working with challenging kids and his own innate talent, I miss him. I regret that dad can’t help us, and I imagine he would have done so enthusiastically, as it is right up his alley. He was not a perfect parent, just as I am not. There were times that I felt he could be quite closed off and distant when I was a kid. That said, I know that he would have stepped up for his grandchildren and I wonder at times what he might have said about them.

As that voice remains silent as it has since 1990, I and mine will do as we’ve always done. We will do our best and make it work. The family and friends who are in the trenches with us now are invaluable and life would be far more difficult without them.

I have learned a lot recently and have found some strategies that started helping immediately. The “When/then” thing I read about sounds so simple: Presenting requests and orders as “When you do this, then this will happen,” etc. It seems so simple, but once I started using it, the results were dramatic. I’ve used it to explain things as well. Just yesterday they were on the computer and my Asperger’s child was getting a little pushy while a sibling was having their turn. I said, “When it’s someone else’s turn at the computer, then they get to choose what they do.” The reply? “Oh, that’s right, I forgot,” and everything settled down and they had a delightful time. I almost fell out of my chair, as in the past, such moments would lead to a meltdown or at the very least an occurrence of the “Boo-boo face” as I like to call it. This time, there was understanding and acceptance and we all moved on.

Another tactic I read about that I have had success with is delineating choices very clearly. I can’t ask, “What do you want for dinner?” That’s too broad a question and simply can’t be answered by my Asperger’s kid in a way that’s effective. So, I give three choices. We haven’t argued about food in days.

One of my other favorites is what I’m calling the “Five second blackout.” If something I’ve asked to be done isn’t getting done, or if something minor has occurred that isn’t really helpful, I’ll say “OK, I don’t like what’s just happened, and I’m going to close my eyes for five seconds, and I’ll bet that when I open them, you’ll have figured out how to make it right.” And so I close my eyes and count to five. And it works. We’ve had a really good series of days.

We are admittedly only at the beginning of this journey and, as great as these tactics might be, they may not work forever. Heck, they may not work when they all get home from school today. But it’s clearly shown me that I can adapt and change and that there are strategies that can help us all navigate the world around us in a more comforting and peaceful way. While I do believe my dad would have had some good ideas and I would very much welcome his insight, I know that there are a lot of parents and children dealing with the very same things our family is facing. The wife and I will do our best and learn everything we can learn from other parents and the copious amount of books and websites dedicated to the topic of Asperger’s and Autism Spectrum disorders.

There will be great days and there will be rough days, and we will face them all as a family. Whatever comes we will manage it, and while I wish I could tell you that I will always do so with grace and overwhelming calm, I think that’s unrealistic. But we’ll face it together.

And I’m again reminded that I have to try and stay healthy as I’d prefer to not have my kids forced to have to write drivel like this about their own lives someday. That said, I am learning to navigate a whole new world and a whole new perspective. And I’m embracing my role as stay-at-home dad with a renewed passion. My other aspirations may return at some point in the future, but for now, nothing matters more than my children and my wife and the life we are making together. There’s a lot to learn, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to be outworked on this one. And I love my family. That helps a lot, too.

I can't do it all: why I'm no longer an aspiring novelist

I can’t do it all. Of course, no one can, but I can really only speak for myself right now. My family and I have been through a pretty challenging time of late in dealing with a medical/learning issue with one of the children. I’m not going to get into specifics here, as it’s personal to my child and not appropriate for this space. Feel free to ask me privately if you wish. In the interest of understanding, we are seeking an IEP for one of them, and the process of getting to this point has been at times exceedingly difficult, including a very difficult meeting yesterday at the school. But we are where we need to be at the moment.

In preparing for the meeting yesterday, I called on every bit of experience and knowledge I have from my former career in education. I spent hours doing research and practiced many of the things I was to say out loud and in my head in the days leading up. It was a difficult meeting but the school agreed to begin the process with us, and it would seem that our hard work as a family, through copious amounts of testing and medical appointments, occupational therapy, and all of my preparation for the actual meeting, had paid off.

And it did. But it almost didn’t. It was a fight, tooth and nail, the whole way. I almost failed, and that would have really been unfortunate. So, the extra time I put into preparation was worth it, especially the three hours I spent in the library yesterday morning researching and further organizing my materials. It was time well spent. When I entered the meeting, I felt ready. I was ready. When it was over and I left, I felt like I had been in a 90 minute fistfight. I most certainly got my dander up and fought like hell for my kid. I would do nothing less for my family.

But it almost wasn’t enough. Fortunately, at this point it was, but this is by no means the last meeting of this kind we will have. There will be more and some of them have the potential to be contentious as well. I am grateful to the school for the support they have shown and hope it continues. But I almost wasn’t good enough.

And that leads me to a real reflection and accounting of my life as it is right now. I am a full time parent and caretaker of our home and family. I am now also moving into the role of full-time advocate for the specialized needs of one of my children. Truth be told, one of the other ones may end up needing the same level of advocacy in the coming years, but thinking about that hurts my head right now. So, between full-time parenting and housekeeping and advocacy, and trying to exercise and take care of myself so I’m around to advocate and care for them, I’m realizing that something has to give. And that will be my aspirations to become a published writer.

I imagine no great gnashing of teeth, but it’s a small loss for me nonetheless. While it has long been a dream of mine to write a good novel and share it with the world, and to be interviewed by Terry Gross on NPR, and so forth, I think it’s time to shelve that dream. Maybe I’ll write for fun on occasion, but I think the time has come for me to abandon this aspiration, of acting like a working writer, and realize that my talents and abilities are needed on other things. My attention needs to be on my family. If I had spent yesterday morning hammering out the rough draft of chapter two, I would have failed my child. I would not have been ready. Fortunately, my head and heart were focused.

Being a good father has long been my greatest aspiration. I’m not exactly where I thought I would be at this point in my life, but I’m in a good place. Perhaps I’ll get back to trying to write novels when they are older. But I simply can’t do it and meet the needs of my family and of my own health. There aren’t enough hours and something has to give.

I think I’ll always write and in turn, perhaps putting the fiction away may open me up to write in this space more again. Perhaps that’s a good thing, I don’t know. Not sure it’s all that important right now, but we will see. In the end, my aspirations were mine and they are mine to put aside, so I’m going to stop pretending I’m a writer waiting to happen. Perhaps someday, but not today. Today, I’m going to be a Dad who gets things done and cares for my family.

And perhaps I’ll get back to the gym too. I’m going to need to have my game face on for the foreseeable future.