Thursday, February 09, 2006

Privacy Invasion

Yesterday my daughter was involved in an incident at school. My daughter, her friend H. and her friend C. (no names as they are under 18) went to their teacher, Mrs. V., to get their math equation assignments for the day. 

Mrs. V. was writing in a journal that she keeps for an education class she is currently taking. She has told the children about this, and they know she writes about her teaching day. The journal is read by her professor. 

When the girls came to her to get their math equations, Mrs. V. put down her journal, where C. casually read what Mrs. V. had written.

When the three girls returned to their workplace, C. told the other two what she had read. My daughter said, "Let's write it down." C. and H. loved that idea, and C. transferred what she had read on to a piece of paper. ( When questioned later, my daughter did not know why this idea popped into her head. She doesn't know what she was thinking. When asked what they were going to do with the paper, all three answered, "Nothing. Just throw it away.")

Unfortunately, it didn't end there. C. instead went back up to Mrs. V. with bogus questions so that she could read some more of the journal. Which she then documented on to the piece of paper. When the girls tired of that, C. put the paper into my daughter's reading book, and they went back to their school work.

Later that afternoon, during reading time, my daughter opened her reading book, and the paper fluttered unnoticed to the floor. Unseen because this is the daughter who never knows when or how she spilled something onto her clothes. Of course, the paper was discovered, and when Mrs. V., who found it and read it, realized what it was, she claimed that "HER PRIVACY HAD BEEN INVADED." 

Questions were asked about who had written the paper, and eventually, the three girls were taken out of the classroom, given a stern talk regarding privacy. They were made to write notes to their parents, as well as an apology note to Mrs. V. I was alerted to the incident and was informed we would go over it at our regular scheduled teacher conference appointment the next afternoon.

When I arrived today, I admit I came in as the Mama Bear ready to defend my cub. Not that I didn't condone what had happened but having spoken with my daughter and the other mothers, I didn't agree with the teachers. Invasion of privacy? 

Let's discuss that.

My husband and I were seated next to the two teachers for our conference. One was grading papers and continued to do so while we talked. I was right next to her, where I could read each name and see each child's grade. Should I have looked at the ceiling? Kept my eyes trained on the teacher's bent head while she talked to me? It was hard not to see those papers. Invasion of privacy?

The second teacher, Mrs. V., got up and went over to my daughter's desk and proceeded to go through it, and then she did the same to C.'s desk. Invasion of privacy?

She told me she was looking for my daughter's planner so that I could see this new assignment, which included the child writing down his/her tasks and chores. Unable to find my daughter's planner or C.'s planner, she rifled through another student's desk and gave me that child's planner to read. Invasion of privacy?

We eventually came to the "incident," and during the discussion, Mrs. V. told me what C. had written in her apology letter. Invasion of privacy?

Mrs. V. explained to me about the journal, how someone else reads what she has written about her students, and then she proceeded word for word to tell me what she had written and what the girls had read, including the child's name and what had been written. Invasion of privacy?

I don't know how I kept the above to myself. So many incidents in just a 45-minute meeting, and I truly wanted to go through each episode one by one to point out how often privacy is invaded. 

Sure, going through the students' desk might be school policy but discussing other students with adults who are not their parents? Grading papers in front of parents? Writing students' names in a journal that is read by someone else without the parents' permission? All a bit iffy, I'd say if you want to get technical. Which I did, but didn't do because well, these two rule my child's world from 8:30 to 3:30.

Both teachers kept commenting on the teacher's "invasion of privacy" with Mrs. V. indignant over this as if the girls writing this information down was the absolute worst INVASION of her life. I gently commented on how the invasion of privacy is tricky. I used the example by asking, "Do you read the student's journals? The ones that belong to them, where they are told to write down their inner thoughts?" My husband piped in with a question of why when Mrs. V. picked up the folded paper that clearly wasn't hers had she read it? Invasion of privacy?

My point was that the girls didn't do it maliciously. They weren't going to sell it out on the playground or even discuss it with the other students. To them, it was harmless fun. Curiosity about what Mrs. V. was writing about them in a journal they'd been told about. A journal that was open and lying where they could read it. Should they have done what they did? No. But an invasion of privacy repeated in capital letters in all discussions with the students and parents? Whoa. Let's just take a step back and tone down the craziness.

For the most part, I held my tongue. We let the teachers know that we had discussed the situation with our daughter and that any further steps we left for them to handle. But we also let the teachers know that our primary concern in the incident wasn't an INVASION OF PRIVACY but fear the girls were not doing what we send them to school to do...their school work.

I did not suggest that overseeing the students to make sure work was progressing might be a better form of activity instead of jotting down PRIVATE information about said students in a journal, but you can bet that thought was racing through my brain.

Invasion of privacy? Ha. How sure are those two that their classroom isn't bugged by administrators?

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

I couldn't have said it any better

For all the football fans still moaning, HERE is a good link.





Monday, February 06, 2006

It wasn't pretty, but....

Steelers 21 - Seahawks 10

PITTSBURGH IS THE SUPER BOWL CHAMPIONS OF THE WORLD!!






Sunday, February 05, 2006

Super Bowl Sunday


The first week was exciting. I celebrated with my flags and my car magnet and the fight songs I found on the internet. I bought a big flag to hang outside my house, and I spent lots of $$ on merchandise. The second week the nerves started, and my emotions were up and down. I didn't dare tell anyone why. My god, it's just a football game!

But without this "football game" I wouldn't have had the following:

  • Something to look forward to each week that really excites me.
  • Time spent each Sunday with good my good friends Krista and Scott who I rarely see outside of football season anymore because of different schools, activities, and life.
  • Chats, high-fives, and hugs from strangers that I see in the grocery, the mall, the gas station, Target, the soccer fields, and in ballet class.
  • Calls and emails from friends each time the Steelers won in the playoffs.
  • Dinner at my favorite restaurant the night the Steelers won the AFC Championship from a friend I don't see often enough.
  • A beautiful bouquet of Steelers cookies from a friend who doesn't even like sports, but who knew how much it meant to me.
  • Calls today from ex-co-workers and far away friends wishing me luck.

Football isn't any less important than a business deal that someone has worked on for weeks. Football is a business, and each week these guys go out and take care of their business. The Super Bowl is the big payout, the big merger, the million-dollar account.

For the fans that payout to watch these guys, it is a chance for a few hours to escape the real world, to block out the nasty, and to enjoy. And there isn't anything wrong with that.

GO STEELERS!!

Sunday, January 22, 2006

Pittsburgh's Going To The Super Bowl!!

I got out of my car, my nerves a big jumbled mess. I was waving my car flag, and my magnet was attached to the back, but my feelings all week were a mess. It is too important to take lightly.
I waved to the Steeler fans in the parking lot of the Steelers Bar here in Florida. I chatted with a guy as we walked toward the bar. I asked him how he felt.

Him: "It will be a good game. A good match up between teams."

It wasn't what I wanted to hear, but then:

Him: "No matter what, I'm glad I'm here."

Me: "Oh, yes, It wouldn't be the playoffs unless we were here."

And then I opened the door. It was like what I imagine running through the tunnel at Heinz Stadium is like--wall to wall Steeler Fans, pumped, ready, and full of energy.

The game was exciting to watch, with everyone rooting for the same team. It is an experience unlike any I have been through.

We did it. The team played to win. We won.

PITTSBURGH'S GOING TO THE SUPER BOWL!!



Sunday, January 08, 2006

Out of the Mouths of My Babes....

January 4, 2005

Sarina: "Miss Cara, Darcy just ate something and then wiped her hands on her pants."

Me: "Well, Sarina, I suppose I could make my kids do their own laundry. I could make both girls carry their laundry down to the river where they'd have to wash their clothes with rocks."

Sarina: "Poor people have to wash their clothes in the river."

Darcy: "Why?"

Sarina: "Poor people don't have any washing machines."

Me: "Well, Kelly doesn't have a washing machine. But then again, she does think she's poor."

Darcy: "Kelly isn't poor."

Sarina: "How do you know that?"

Darcy: "Because she has a purse."


Some of us are not classy enough for a spa...

Last year my husband got me a spa certificate for my 40th birthday. Our local Spa is, according to their website, one of the top 10 spa destinations in the country. It sits on a natural mineral spring that was first discovered by Spanish explorer Hernando de Soto who thought he had found the Fountain of Youth. The Spa pumps the mineral springs from 3 pump stations into their resort to be used for the pools, the spa treatments, and for drinking.

I was intrigued as I have never entered the doors of a spa, much less a world-renowned one, but I was reluctant to go by myself. I waited a year before I was able to secure some company (read: people who could afford to go). My visiting family members, my aunt, my cousin, and my mother agreed to accompany me to the famous Spa. We picked out a package, and I made the reservations.

We arrived at the Spa half an hour before our first scheduled appointment. We paid and were directed through a door, to a woman behind a desk. She was tiny, dressed in designer clothes, and she had a sweater casually thrown over her shoulders. She looked at us as if we had wandered in by mistake. 

Her: "May I help you?" 

We refrained from bringing to her attention the fact we'd just entered from the payment station. Instead, we smiled and informed her we had appointments. She issued us locker keys and then pulled her sweater tighter on her shoulders. 

Her: "We don't have any more robes."

We just looked at her. From the moment we'd entered this resort, we'd had been the minority when it came clothes. Meaning we had them on while everyone else was dressed in white floor-length spa robes. From the people walking the halls to the people enjoying a meal in the restaurant, everyone wore robes. 

How was it possible that they'd run out of robes? Had they unintentionally gone over their max occupancy? We continued to stare at her. She continued to pull at her sweater.

My mother caved first in the standoff. 

Connie: "So, are we supposed to walk around naked? My sister and I don't mind going nude, but why aren't there any robes?"

The woman pulled harder at her sweater, hoping, I think, that it would stretch over her head. 

Her: "We have one robe." 

It suddenly materialized, and my cousin took the robe. We took down the pamphlets about our treatments to read. There down the page was a warning about people with high blood pressure. My mother and I looked at each other.

Connie: "What does this mean? I have high blood pressure. Am I not suppose to do the herbal wrap?"

Her: "Oh, no, you shouldn't have picked that treatment. I'll have to get someone." 

She sighed and looked at us as if wondering what hole we had crawled out of, and she disappeared and then reappeared with the woman who had signed us in. 

That woman began to lecture us on picking the wrong treatment, but my cousin cut her off and suggested we trade time slots. She and her mother were scheduled for the aromatherapy bath, and my mother and I were scheduled for the dangerous fat girls with high blood pressure herbal wrap. 

The sign-in lady agreed to this temporary solution while she searched for a manager. 

Sign-in Lady: "In the meantime, go ahead into the locker room and get into your robes."

Us: "We don't have robes."

The sign-in lady looked at the other lady who pulled on her sweater and admitted they were out of robes. Sign-in lady sighed heavily, rolled her eyes, and disappeared. We stood and look at one another.

Her: "I do have two old robes." 

She pulled out two robes that seem a bit frayed on the collars. We snatched them out of her hand.

Her: "Why don't you go on into the locker room, and someone will bring you the last robe." 

She waved her hand at the door to our right.

We went into the locker room, where we met another attendant who immediately produced a robe. Interesting how robes were suddenly appearing. We changed, and she showed us around as she led us into the woman's waiting area. We sat on couches and snickered at each other.

Our names were finally called, and off we went to our designated treatments. 

My mother and I went with our attendant, Judy, who was actually the best thing in the place. She led us into a room with a swimming pool in the middle. Around the room were six to seven bathtubs.  

Judy assigned us to tubs, turned on the water, and let us sniff several aromas to chose. Then, she dumped them into our baths, creating millions of bubbles. We slid out of our robes and into our private baths. 

My bath was tepid, so Judy added hot water. She put towels behind our heads and cold washcloths on our eyes. We were to relax, and if we chose, we could hop out and jump into the pool (76 degrees) to cool off.

I lay back in the tub and tried to relax. Judy turned off the hot water, but I could feel cold water pouring in. I thought this a strange treatment. Hot then cold. It got cold. I sat up, and the washcloth fell into the bubbles. 

Judy was immediately at my side with a new one. I told her I was cold. She thought this strange, but then she noticed that cold water was pouring into my tub. She turned it off, but to put in hot, she had to pull my plug to drain the cold water. 

Eventually, she got the tub water warm, and I settled back against the head towels. I couldn't relax. I tried, but the water was hot, and I started picturing my blood pressure (which was such a hot topic at this Spa) rising on the thermometer. 

Just when I thought I was going to have to join my mother in the freezing swimming pool, the jets shut off. We left the bath area and joined our party back on the couches, where we compared notes.

My cousin had thought her treatment was fine. My aunt said hers had been lousy. She got cold within 10 minutes, and she wasn't sure there was any type of herbs in her wrap.

Marilyn: "It smelled like moldy dishrags," she said.

After munching on oranges and apples, we were led into the massage area. My masseuse was Sandy. Sandy's arms were as big as my pinky finger, and I wondered how she would massage with those things. The answer: with her thumbs. 

Sandy loved using her thumbs and enjoyed working on feet. Sandy dug her thumbs into my back three times, circled her palms three times on my arm, massaged my hands, circled three times on my leg, and then sat down to do my foot. 

She began rubbing her thumb up my big toe. She stroked and rubbed and rubbed. I wanted to scream, "For god sakes move to another toe!"

She did after about three minutes. She spent another three minutes rubbing that toe and worked her way down the digits, rubbing as if erasing something. Then she started all over again with the big toe. Eventually, she moved to the other foot, where she continued her torture. 

After 20 minutes, she moved to my leg, three circles. She moved to my hand, then my arm and then she asked me to turn over on to my stomach. Finally! 

I rolled over and prepared for a massage. Sandy dug her thumbs into my back. Circle, circle, circle. She slid her hand down my arm and then....then....then she WENT BACK TO MY FEET! 

The same torture was applied once again to my feet. The woman spent 40 minutes of my 50-minute massage working on my feet. When she finished, she moved up to my head and passed gas. So help me, god, the woman farted at my head. 

There was no apology or an "excuse me." She dug her thumbs into my spine several times, ended with a head rub that burned my scalp, patted me, and left the room.

I rejoined the gang back at the couches. Everyone else had enjoyed their massage. I smiled and said we would talk about mine later. 

At some point in our treatments, a manager had apologized for the herbal wrap mistake, handed us all free gifts, and told us we could bathe twice if we wanted. Coming out of that massage, I was freezing and looking forward to jumping back into a hot tub. Our names were called.

Judy was gone, but we had Pit and Pat who did not dump enough aromas into our baths, and so we had few bubbles to cover our nakedness. 

I was in the same tub as before, and once again, the water would not shut off. Pit, or Pat, worked on it and got it just right. For the first time that day, something was perfect. I settled back and relaxed. It lasted about 10 minutes before my cousin was poking me on the shoulder. 

Maya: "I'm bored."

Connie: "Jump into the pool."

Marilyn: "Is this all we do?" 

She climbed out of her tub and proceeded to investigate closets and drawers, a towel clutched to her breasts, her backside open to all of us. Pit and Pat were nowhere to be found. 

We decided we'd had enough, dressed, and hightailed it out of there. The best thing about the whole excursion? The mineral spring water that we consumed in vast quantities throughout the day. 

We discovered later that it certainly cleans out your system! 

Perhaps that had been Sandy's problem.