Happiness –these are my notes for Ellen Hauser’s class on 1/6/11
**How do you know when you’re happy? Have you ever really thought about that? How do you know?
Is it an on/off switch, or do you have one of those dials--a dimmer that makes the light fade in and out? For me, it is definitely a dimmer switch. Sometimes, it’s more like a pilot light…if it goes out, sheer devastation; but as long as there’s that little flicker of light, of hope, of humor, of my own self, I’ll be okay.
Hmm…so is happiness for me simply knowing I’ll be okay? Ouch, that sounds rather pessimistic, doesn’t it? I can hear it in an Eeyore voice—“That’s okay, I don’t mind if you pull my tail—I can still use it…a little…it hardly hurts at all. I’m okay, (sigh), so I’m happy.” No. that’s not what I mean.
To think of what makes me happy, I seem to naturally gravitate to thinking of the times when I have been the most UNhappy. Those were times when life was out of my control—mother remarried and in stages tore me away from my hometown, my friends, and my grandmother. Grandmother died. My colleagues hated me at my first teaching job. Boyfriend adored me but not enough to marry me so we broke up. I was alone, completely alone in a new town New Year’s Eve. I used the term “emotionally bankrupt.” Yeesh, it makes my heart heavy just to name those times.
So why do they come to mind when I think of being happy? Because after each isolated incident, or after each heart-wrenching phase of changes, I found my inner oomph. Sometimes it took awhile to heal, but that pilot light was there and I knew it. Man, it was hard work sometimes keeping it lit…thank God for good books, music, cats, friends, faith, and therapists…at one time or another, those were my saving graces.
Still, though, the question isn’t answered—is knowing I’m going to be okay what makes me happy? Is my inner oomph like Stella’s groove that she lost, but got back? Am I really THAT easy to please?
Dr. Hauser says I’m one of the happiest people she knows. There was a very entertaining debate, in fact, amongst my Facebook friends about whether anyone had ever seen me unhappy or (gasp!) grumpy! This came after I posted that I was having one cruddy day.
It was this perception of hers that led Dr. H to invite me here today. What I really meant to talk with you about was how I survived the toughest year of teaching in my 28 years in the field…
It was the 96-97 school year, my second year teaching a self-contained class for students with behavior disorders in a small school district in northern Illinois. The first year had been tough, but had gone well—I had a nice big classroom, two incredibly competent aides, a phone within reach, and a timeout room in a good spot. I was also 5 yards from the office.
Over the summer, however, the sup’t moved me from the elementary to the middle school. I lost my time out room, my aides both left for better jobs, I had to be new all over again, and I was on the very hot third floor—flights away from the office or the phone. The middle school schedule was problematic because I had a multi-age classroom—there were no times that I could take a break, or a planning time, or even lunch without leaving students in my room. Along with all that, my student with the severest behavior disorders chose to stop taking his medicine and another of my students who had previously been doing well joined him each day in instigating trouble. (She confided in me years later that they loved making my eyes get really big!)
John, the one who was now med-free, had ADHD and I think Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. When he was without meds, you could almost see his pupils spin. His voice was a bone-on-bone grating whine that got louder and louder the more agitated he became. When he was agitated, he was not happy until he had succeeded in finding other students to join him in this agitated state. It was the year from hell. There were days when the whole class struggled, as did I. They went home angry and defeated, and I was left with a room that was silent, yet filled with tension.
I seriously considered quitting and going on welfare—I was losing myself and my love of teaching.
Several things happened to save me that year. First, the school counselor recognized that I needed help with John. I had resorted to out-shouting him, which was a no-win for all. Instead of complaining about me, she told the team that I needed help and made suggestions to me. I had no mentor—I created the program in that school! This counselor explained to me about alternative placements when students needed more intervention than we could provide. We placed John in a more appropriate setting and POOF: my quality of life (and teaching, of course) increased tenfold.
Second, I developed some healthy coping strategies. I realized how discouraging it was for my students when the days ended so badly, and what a strain it must have been for them to come right back the next day. So on our worst days, I left sticky notes with thanks or encouraging words on their desks along with a pencil or candy—something that let them know I was glad they came back.
Third, we finally, FINALLY found a couple wonderful aides who were willing to stay. LIFELINES!!
Fourth, another coping strategy: I developed a good news journal. I couldn’t find it for today, but it’s still around. I was going home (a 30 min. drive) just fuming and so tense by the time I got home, there was no joy in my arrival for Joe (now my husband, my fiance’ back then). I realized (notice that word is popping up a lot) that I had to find something good from each day or I’d lose my mind. In the journal I would stretch as far as necessary to find something good to say about the day. It might have been about me—that I had not shouted that day, or that I had remembered to eat lunch so that low blood sugar didn’t make things worse, or that I taught a lesson well. I also noticed things about students—Mary minded her own business all day; Jeff went the whole day without getting sent to time out; Tim got an A on his spelling test; Randy emptied the trash; Brenda normally would have hauled off and hit Mary, but today simply ignored her, etc. When I told my students about the journal, they wanted to hear the entries. It became a regular part of the week when I would read the “good news” to them. They were often surprised that I’d found something good to write about, and I like to think they were impressed when I’d noticed good about them.
Epiphany!!! I just realized it’s not a dimmer switch; rather, it’s the burner handle on the gas stove—works better with the pilot light analogy! Even when my burner’s completely turned off, there’s still that pilot light keeping the faith! So there it is…if you have a burner or a dimmer switch and a pilot light, maybe thinking about what keeps little flame burning for you is the place to begin.
p.s. Did you know there’s a peace and happiness foundation? It seems their info is coming soon…so far all I found is this video and an ad for their facebook page promoting shea butter from Africa! Not sure it’s exactly what I’m looking for, but we’ll see…J
