Goodbye, Charlie

Charlie passed away this morning.
I hear he went peacefully, which makes me feel better, although not exactly comforted.

I don't post pics of my kids when they are living, but I just want to show this beautiful child to the world...or anyone who reads this blog.

Charlie two years ago on the ski trip...



What a wonderful child. I am blessed to have known him, no matter how brief it was.

Flying the Friendly Skies

Flight from St. Louis to Chicago. Very bumpy. The pilot decided it wasn't safe to serve beverages and that all passengers need to remained seated throughout the flight.

It was at this point, OF COURSE, one of my girls, who has leukemia, gets a gushing nose bleed. We quickly run out of Kleenex. Since we are in the very back row, I figure I can quickly go to the bathroom and grab some toilet paper.

How wrong I was. The stewardess, an cold and bitter woman, get on the loud speaker and totally belittles me. She didn't just simply ask me to sit down, but goes on and on about it, even after I have sat back down--free of Kleenex.

I hit my call button so that she can get us some Kleenex. In a power struggle, she totally ignores the call.

In the meantime, Danielle has blood all over her coat and is mortified. And, since we are in that very back row, she can't tilt her head all the way back.

I tell Danielle to hit her call button, and the old bitty send the much younger, much sweeter stewardess (should I be saying flight attendant?) back to us.

She is horrified to see poor Danielle, who is herself mortified at the never-ending geyser that is her nose.
The sweet stewardess gets an new box of Kleenex and has Danielle keep it so we are prepared for our flight from Chicago to Wisconsin.

So, do I contact United about this old crow and her non-response to our emergency?

My Airport Adventure with Khalil

So, the plan was to fly back with Khalil to St. Louis. From there, he was to take a 7:00 flight back to Tulsa.

Diane, the director of the foundation asked if I could hang out with him, and I was more than happy to oblige. I was even happier when I met him and fell in love with the little guy.

Our plane to St. Louis was delayed by about 15-20 minutes. From there, we met all of the parents, chatted, I returned meds, and we waited (a VERY long time) for luggage to return.

I got a cart and Khalil's and my luggage.

At this point, with things in order and me ready to move on with the rest of the day, I turned my cell phone on. Almost immediately, Michelle, the director of the other foundation we take this trip with, is calling me because Khalil's dad is calling her ticked off.

He is telling Michelle that our plane has been on the ground for over an hour (which it hadn't) and that he had called me repeatedly (once, but I hadn't had time to retrieve voicemail by the time Michelle called) and he is very angry that no one is calling him. Khalil's plane has been delayed, and he needs to know what the heck is going on.

I call him immediately upon hearing all of this, and try to explain what is going on. I tell him I hadn't even had a chance to look at the screen to see that the flight has been delayed, but I was on my way to get his ticket and get everything in order.

This wasn't good enough and yadda, yadda, yadda. My mouth went dry and I was really upset. ME! Who has dealt with many-a upset parent! I can't sat why I had that reaction, but I certainly did.

So, I get in a VERY long line to get him checked and get his boarding pass. While in line, someone suggests that since I have an e-ticket, just check in using my number. I leave the line, do that, only to get a screen telling me that since I have an unaccompanied minor I can't use the e-check-in.

I go back to the even longer, and extremely slow moving line. People were growing short on patience and Khalil was growing more tired.

I asked an airport worker about getting Khalil checked in. He proceeds to tell me that they won't let Khalil ride the plane solo because it was already delayed by the weather in Oklahoma and if it were cancelled or diverted, they would have nowhere to go with the kid. They have a flight the next afternoon, however, at 3:00.

I asked where I am supposed to go with Khalil, and they said they could provide a hotel. I can get an adjoining room, and while technically I should pay for myself, since I live in St. Louis, they will make an exception. How very kind.

I decide to stay in the long line and try my luck at the window. I call Khalil's dad, who is no kinder than he was before. I explain their last flight of the day rule, and that the next flight is the next afternoon at 3:00. That is too late and he wants his boy back sooner, not to mention, where will he stay? He isn't staying in a hotel by himself. I then explain that either I will be with him, OR I may just take him to my parent's house.

By the way, at this point, my dad is on his way to pick me up, and since he and my mom never answer their cell phone...

So, Khalil's dad is none to happy, but I assure him that I am trying my best to get Khalil on tonight's plane.

We hang up, and I am on the verge of tears. I call Diane, the director of the foundation, barely containing myself, leaving a message that I need a phone call immediately when she gets the message. I'm not actually crying, but I have that quiver in my voice. How I can control it when I talk to Khalil's parents, the airport workers and Khalil himself, is beyond me.

I move up maybe two or three people when Diane gets into Seattle and calls me. She says she'll call her parents and a few other people and then call me back, just in case I can't get him on the plane. She is understandably frustrated because the airline assured her that Khalil could ride on this flight.

We move up a few more people, Khalil's mom calls. I explain what I am trying to accomplish, and that in the worst case scenario, he can stay with my at my parents'. She is very sweet and understanding, but also wants her baby back.

Diane calls, and a St. Louis nurse says she will take him in, if need be. I said he can just stay with my family, since he and I have now bonded even further, but I hope it doesn't come down to that.

In the meantime, my dad miraculously figures out how to use a cell phone and says that he is outside in the 15 minute parking. I explain the situation, that I can't leave for at least an hour, but would he please, please, please just park, get my luggage and either wait or go to my grandma and grandpa's who are a mere 15-20 minutes away, where my mom is visiting.

Of course my daddy will park, get my luggage and wait for me. He is the greatest man I know.

I am next in line for the next available person, and some foreign guy tries to walk in front of me. I tell him he better get himself back behind me or else I will knock him down. The nice guy behind me also tells him to get back where he belongs.

I go to the window, act as though no one told me Khalil can't get on this flight, and we proceed with all of the appropriate paperwork. I need his address, which he doesn't know, so I call his parents, and dad gives me the address.

This entire time, Khalil is sitting on the luggage cart, happily playing with his Spiderman toy.

I get Khalil's boarding pass, my pass to sit with him until the plane leaves, and I tell Khalil we need to have my dad get my luggage before we can go to his plane. Dad calls, I tell him we are on our way to meet him.

He meets Khalil, and is obviously taken with him. Khalil tells him the foot cream story.

We go to Khalil's gate and I call his parents to let them know all systems are a-go.

His mom is now worried about the weather, and would prefer him to stay with me in St. Louis. I almost fall over; My stomach drops.

I tell her that I have his ticket and the plane is going to be boarding in 15 minutes and I am not sure I can change the ticket without a penalty since the flight is going to leave as scheduled. I calm her down, have her talk to Khalil, and she is satisfied that we should proceed. I tell her I am going to stick around until the plane takes off, and should the flight turn around, I will be at my grandparents' and can return in 15 minutes.

Khalil said he wouldn't mind staying with me, but knows his mama misses him. He is too much for me.

I tell his mom to call me when he is back in her arms and I will let her know if when the plane is in take off. Her biggest concern is whether or not he seemed scared.
Let me tell you, this little dude was much cooler than any of the adults tied up in this were!

About two and a half hours later, Diane called to let me know he arrived and asked if his mom had called.
She hadn't yet, but let me tell you, I was able to breathe again!

Still, it could have been fun to have the little dude stay over. He was certainly a highlight for me, and brightened my pop's evening.

Khalil, the baby

Khalil and I had quite an airport adventure on our return trip. That is a story for another time.

While at the airport, however, he found a little Spiderman action figure. It looked like it came from a children's meal from a fast food restaurant. His hands and feet were magnets, and his legs came off. Khalil literally spend HOURS playing with his new found treasure. It ended up being a life saver for me, in the (VERY) long run. Watching him play, he was very innocent and child-like. He stole my heart all over again.

I took him to Burger King while at the airport. There he had a Mighty Kids' Meal, and got a Sponge Bob Square Pants figure, which was perfect for the Sponge Bob pajamas he was wearing under his sweatpants and hoodie.

Did I mention how precious and cute he was?

Khalil, the little adult

Khalil has been through more than anyone should have to go through, all at the tender age of 10.

He lived in New Orleans, and had to be evacuated when Katrina hit. His family went to the Superdome, and when there, he became separated from his parents. All this while under going treatments for cancer.

He has since moved to Tulsa, and his family decided to stay there for a year before deciding whether or not to move back to New Orleans.

And DANG is this kid a cutie!

Khalil told me in the airport (his parents drove him to St. Louis to travel with me) that his is 200 years old. I asked how he managed to stay so young looking, and he informed me that he uses foot cream on his face, but not just any foot cream. It has to have mint in it. He kept me in stitches.

He was trying to convinced some of the adults on the trip that 50 Cent is his uncle. One of the nurses asked if went to visit his "uncle" in the hospital when he was shot.
Yes, he had.
Did he bring flowers to the hospital?
No. In the 'hood you bring 40s and blunts, not flowers.

It was funny, but very disturbing.

Courtney, the Caring Cutie

Courtney was both one of my St. Louis and a Badger. She is precious in every way and has a sweet, angelic face. Her blonde hair is beginning to return in little wisps around her head, not unlike the halo she deserves.

Courtney was the girl who wanted everyone to get along, and when Mackenzie (stories to follow on her later) was being bossy and trying to exclude one of the other girls, Courtney was our girl who stood up to the bully and told her "no."

When another child had an upset tummy, Courtney, who was homesick and on the verge of tears the first few nights, gave comfort.

Courtney had never spent a night away from her mom before this trip. Even in the hospital, her mom stayed there with her. Needless to say, the first few days were tough on her, and she was crying, but trying ever-so-hard to contain it. Thursday morning she came to me crying, and I asked if she needed to call her mama.
The wise-beyond-her-years 10 year old simply said, "I think that might make it worse."

Friday evening, after glitter and dancing and bowling, Courtney exclaimed, "I don't want to go home Sunday!" I was elated that she was enjoying her trip as much as I was enjoying her company.

One evening Mackenzie, who is 10 going on 15, said that when she met the band Simple Plan, one of them had "the f-word" written on his shirt "like 30 times!" (Mackenzie was all about pushing the bounds of appropriateness.)

Courtney said, "I know what the f-work is, but I have no idea what it means, and that is fine by me, 'cause I know it is bad."

I told her, while shooting Mackenzie a look, "You don't need to know that word because you are nothing but a little sweetpea and I want you to stay that way!"

Too precious for words.

The other thing I will remember Courtney for, she choreographed "The Badger Dance" on disco bowling night. Let me tell ya, the girls got rhythm! And a huge heart.

Lena: Part Deux

Lena is completely bald.
She has been bald for several years now.
She was totally psyched when she heard that I had wigs for disco bowling, and quickly requested the pink wig.
She brushed that wig and kept it on her bedpost.
She said enthusiastically to me, "I have been able to brush my own hair in years! I can't wait to brush my hair!"
All of this over a silly pink wig.
The night of disco bowling, she wore the wig while we got ready.
But, alas, the wig was itchy on her tender scalp.
We ended up painting her hear, purple with blue spots. She looked spectacular!

James

Many people know I have a very good friend named James. (Darren's brother. I used to date James and that is how Darren and I became such good friends. It is also a large part of why things never go too far with Darren and me.)

This James is a little different, however.

James is a young African American boy, also going through chemo, also on steriods. He is so dang cute, you just want to put him in your pocket and take him home. He was a dancing fool, doing the worm and busting moves left and right and disco bowling. He was little-boy-flirting with me at disco bowling. Chasing me and annoying me (although I thought he was precious and was not the least bit annoyed by him).

The day we went snowmobiling, it was miserably cold. He was being kind, though, and was holding the door for us as we came back to the hotel.

I thanked James and told him what a little gentleman he was.

Then he slapped my ass twice, told me no problem, and ran and hid behind his counselor.

Is it wrong I still think he is precious?

Lena: The Brave Badger

My group, consisting of 5 girls, ages 9 and 10, another chaperone and myself (DUH!) were the Badgers. Five little girls all quite unique, and 3 out of 5 of them in entirely endearing ways.

We had two girls who were not really "with us" as a group. One was ten, but looked and acted 13 or 14. She was too mature to hang with our little girls (stories to come later) and was always scheming something to lure the attention of the boys.

The other girl was a drama queen who wanted all attention on her. She got it through the nurse she traveled to Wisconsin with, here on out, known as Nurse Nosey. Again, stories to follow later. This little girl wanted to be with the adults, as a result had difficulty bonding with the other girls. She thought she should be our one and only princess, when I had a total of five girls I wanted to treat as princesses. Since this girl was also one of our healthier children, it was difficult to keep up with her demands when the sick ones never demanded a thing.

Then there was Lena. Precious, innocent, with a lot of health issues. Another little child, bald from chemo, round from steroids. She had a sweet little face, and a "I am soooo sorry I have to bother you, but..." demeanor. Her legs were weak from her treatments, and so she was always a few steps behind us. Sadly, too, we were on the second story of a hotel with no elevator. She had new ports and lines that couldn't get wet, so she was never able to have fun in the pool like the others, but still was excited to change into her suit and dangle her feet. We would sometimes get a football player, or Johnny, a chaperone always mistaken for a football player, to carry her up the stairs. When no one was around, we would use a luggage cart to get her down the long hallway. She never expected it, and was fine not having it, but was also relieved when she did get the special treatment.

Because of her leg weakness, by time we got her skis on her and walked to the bunny hill where the instructors were, she was ready to call it a day. She did play in the snow and make snow angels after a rest in the chalet. She was able to make her own fun and was always content.

The evening after ski, while simply walking by the pool, because goodness knows she couldn't run, Lena fell. She tried to catch herself with he hand, and hurt her wrist. Three different nurses, as well as our fantastic doctor who came as a chaperone, all looked at it. She still had a strong grasp and move her fingers and wrists. There was not a lot of swelling and very little bruising. Group consensus; ice it and give Tylenol.

The next morning she was still in tears. Not a normal thing for Lena. While the group went tubing, she went to the hospital. Sure enough--it was a bend fracture. The end of her bone bent, but didn't really break, when she tried to catch herself.

She had a soft splint put on, and returned in time to tube down the hill three times. She loved it. She tried everything, including snowmobiling and bowling. Bowling was tricky, though, with one arm. As it turned out, the alley had a ramp to roll the ball down. She used that and had a great time

She sang karaoke and did a great job, and she also danced as much as her little body would allow. Her only complaint was that her arm began to itch. She required help to dress and undress, but always tried before asking for help, and a few times even managed to do it alone.

Here was the curious, beautiful thing, though. Our two girls who had been stand-offish this whole time, rallied with the other Badgers to make sure Lena was having a good time, help her when she needed it, and looked out for her. Lena's injury, which I will not call a BLESSING, may really have had a purpose. She was the one girl probably brave enough to have it and still have a great trip, and it made the Badgers the cohesive group I yearned for them to be.

It also gave a little girl, whose self-esteem was low because of her body's changes during treatment, feel a little extra special. And as you can see, she is just that.

We told her tell everyone she broke the arm doing a 360 on the half pipe.

Andrew

Andrew was one of our kids from Buffalo. He was all of maybe 4 feet tall and about as cute as they come. Steriods have made him bloated and his cheeks delitfully chubby, and probably just that much more endearing.

The chaperone who came from Buffalo, who was my co-chaperone, told me his hair started falling out on the plane ride to Wisconsin.
He is terminal, and they weren't even sure if he would live long enough to go on the trip.

His nurse, who was also the chaperone from Buffalo, talked to his mom before the trip. Knowing Andrew's time is VERY limited, was she okay giving him up for these days. Honestly, he could have died on the trip.

His mom's response was that Andrew is such a special child, and so wonderful, she just wanted us to have the opportunity to meet him.

I am so blessed that I did get that opportunity.

I have returned!

I am sure I will be spending DAYS typing in stories of my trip.

You will here about my airport adventures with Khalil, the story of Andrew, the sweetness that is Courtney, the courage (and broken arm! YIKES!) that is Lena, and much, much more, to be sure!

Back soon!
Miss Bethie

One more blog before the trip...

So much to catch up on, so much left to do before I leave Wednesday.

The wigs came, and I LOVE them! When I met up with the kids this past Friday, to go over the itinerary, give them their luggage and gear, and just to reassure them and their folks, the girls absolutely lit up when I told them about my glitter and wigs.

I have NOT heard from the professor. I am a little hurt, but my attentions have moved on to a few other boys.
The gyno is in the lead. And while he is a doctor who graduated from one of the best medical schools in the Mid-West, he is a bit of a bad boy, and I am TOTALLY intrigued by that. Just look at this!



There is also a Swiss man and a bald man. The Dutch man is very interested in me, and he is so dang nice, but I am just not romantically interested.

Nice Guy Brian comes and goes. Who knows.


In more serious, touching news, Charlie, one of the boys from my first ski trip, has been given just days to live. He was asked what he wanted as a dying wish. He wanted a tattoo. He was loaded up on platelets, and was able to get a tattoo. Also, on loan, his family was given a Corvette. Charlie thinks this is his car (He is 16 now). Charlie had said sometime ago that he was ready to die, but his parents wanted him to keep going through treatment. He now is afraid to die, understandably, but I have a sense that he is also ready for it.

Godspeed, Charlie, and many prayers and thoughts your way, and your family's way. His parents will probably need more prayers than he does, at this point.

Many more stories, I am sure, will be up after my trip.

I have a reputation to maintain...

I go on my beloved ski trip in just 10 days!

I am known as Glitter Girl, because for disco bowling I bring a make up case of nothing but cheaper glitter for us to get decked out in. I have this horrible polyester shirt and a big-ass gold belt. It is something to behold.

And it warms my heart to see all of these precious girls gathered in my room, hovering around the mirror, covering themselves in enough glitter to be hung on a gay man's Christmas tree. And even though last year, they got in to my good make up (don't mess with my MAC!), I love being the center of the hotel for the few hour preceding the festivities.

In an effort to stay cutting edge, and have added a few more glamour grabs into my magic (makeup) bag of tricks. I added a silver tinsel wig and a gold tinsel wig, and some tinsel extensions in purple, gold and green (they are really a Mardi Gras thing, but whatever!). I also bought 4 pair of clip on disco ball earrings. But, the bit that makes me happiest, the wigs I bought.

If you know me, you know I look for any excuse to wear my black wig. I design my Halloween costumes around it, and any other time I can wear it is just gravy! (Snow White last year for a school spirit day where we dressed as our favorite non-super hero cartoon).

Well, I have added to my wig collection (of one) by buying the same style of wig in pink and in orange.









That is the pink wig in the picture. The orange is gonna look AWESOME with my ugly polyester shirt and the gold belt.









Okay, I look tremendously fat there, and I think I have packed on a few pounds since then. And I can't wear the long bell bottoms and platform sandals, because it is BOWLING. Still, I should look terrifically tacky!

Finally! Something positive!

After a rough 5 days, something positive finally happened for me.

Last year I had some really great, special students. They had personality, they had pizzaz, and they had potential. Generally, I'll be honest here, I prefer male students. When you are talking teens, there is definitely a sex connection, which should NOT be confused with a sexual connection. Females students are sweeter and kinder to male teachers, and male students are much more protective and caring towards their female teachers. It is as if they compete with same-sex teachers. I know every member of my team would say the same.

But last year I had a female student with whom I really bonded. She was from a rough family; brother in juvie, promiscuous sisters who experimented with drugs; and I wanted so much for her. She was no angel. She was also having sex and smoking marijuana, but at the same time, she was really trying her best to break away from the family mold. She had a temper; boy did she ever! But she not only respected me, but, dare I say, adored me. She could be sensible and strong, and I knew I could count on her.

I picked her as my student of the year, and wrote a poem about her that was both funny and heartfelt. Both she and her mom were surprised she was my student of the year, because she never bonded with any teacher before. She would send me notes thanking me for working with her or apologizing when she got in trouble with another teacher. I gave her my e-mail and cell phone number in case she needed anything.

This year, as a freshman, she came to show me her report card--she made honor roll, and would come check on me and see how my year was going. It was as if she knew which of my days were rough, and that is when she would walk in and brighten my mood.

She hadn't been by for a month or so, but then, as the kiddos get older, I see them less and less. Sometimes I feel like I am Puff the Magic Dragon, and my Little Jackie Papers not longer visit. But that is fine. Goodness knows I did the same to my favorite teachers!

Tonight I received a phone call. Chrissy called to tell me she had moved to the neighboring district. She still has the poem I wrote for her, and her mama still has it hanging up. She is working hard, and is in the A+ program at her new school, which means she can get two years of college and her books free. This is very important, as I know her family will have difficulty with the second two years, as it is. She wants to go to college to become a teacher. She has had a boyfriend for 8 months, and he told her from the beginning that he won't put up with her doing any drugs. Her mom remarried and her mom is able to stay home a little more, and the two of them are bonding again. The step dad is very nice to she and her siblings, and her mom has never been happier.

I was so glad to hear from her, and I hope she will continue to stay in touch. I sincerely think she could have made the right decisions eventually with or without me, but, I am sure proud I had a front row seat for it.

Congrats, Chrissy! I am very proud of you, and you will always be one of the special students from a special school year!

Because my weekend didn't suck enough...

I got a new student Monday. I was given no information about him until the end of the day. Imagine my shock to find all of this out...

His mother was a polysubstance abuser while she was pregnant. After he was born, both parents continued using. Dad was incarcerated for domestic abuse. The child was taken from home at 4. From 4-7, DFS tried to get him back into his own home, but it never worked. In fact, his parents fed him various drugs, dad was physically abusive, and his 15 year old sister was sexually abusive. He went after his mother with a knife and also tried to kill himself with a knife.

He is diagnosed rapid bi-polar, and he hears voices. He isn't sure if they are God or the devil, but they tell him to do bad things, including suicide and homicide. He has assaulted many teachers and students. He has trashed many classrooms and schools.

He has been in numerous psych wards, and has been removed from various group homes because the adults were afraid of him.

He is now 15, in his umpteenth foster home. He will most likely never be adopted, yet he wants to be apart of a family and have siblings, although his caseworker strongly recommends that he not be in a family with kids. (His current foster home
has a little guy.)

I am totally serious when I say this one worried me more than any kid I have had in my 12 years of teaching. I am not equipped for him, nor is our building.

My heart breaks for him, but I worry about the risk my other students are now in.

I was weepy all weekend...well, Saturday night on...and this did not help me out any...although I didn't think about Professor being a prick. But the sick part of me wanted to email or call since he told me I should when I need to talk. I needed to talk Monday.