death again

i may have mentioned that we took two kittens back from aunty joan's house, to see if we could raise them out of their dangerous infant stage. well, one of them died this afternoon. it was the girl kitten, the one that was thinner and softer, and didn't feed well. she didn't seem to have a natural suckling reflex, so when we would try to feed her, she would maybe take a couple of swallows and then turn away and try to struggle free... as the days passed, her mewling grew quieter and quieter, while her brother's grew louder and clearer... this afternoon, i noticed that she was barely making a sound when she opened her mouth. i gave her one last feeding. and a bit later, she could barely move. i held her in my hands and to my chest. at a certain point, her breathing became labored, and came in isolated gasps that involved her whole body, right down to her tail. the gasps came once every five seconds, then once every ten seconds... at several points, i was sure she had passed, and then she would gasp again. her face, as i looked at it, seemed old. i think all creatures who suffer on the verge of death take on a look of maturation... i thought about life and bodies, and how the approach of death crystallizes things, so that what was once a fluid and smooth motion, animated by and ordered by some intelligence, slowly but inevitably turns into moving parts, and then into a still form: like salt crystals frozen by the sun.

when it was apparent that she wasn't breathing anymore, i laid her on a white paper towel. i wet another sheet with warm water, and began to wipe her down. then, aiden picked a flower (a tiny weed flower, yellow), and willow drew a picture of her, as a cat angel looking down from heaven. i wrapped the kitten in a paper towel, then put her in a large ziploc bag (i told the kids that it was to protect her from the rain on the way to heaven). we packed our offerings to her into her shoebox coffin.

when the girl kitten passed, it seemed as though her as-yet brother knew. he suddenly began mewing (up until that point, he had been sleeping), and stumbled about the box, looking for her. the two of them, brother and sister, had always sought each other out after the trauma of feeding and urinating/defecating, and would always be found sleeping, wrapped around each other for warmth...

this was the first time something died within my hands. it was strange. at one point, i could feel it (and myself) go vague, as though it were suddenly forgetting how to be a kitten. it felt like smoke. with each gasp, things would clarify once again, as though life were a painful reminder. but when the gasps stopped, it felt like everything were floating away.

i recall my grandma being on the ventilator. she too had these full-body gasps, as the machine mechanically filled and emptied her lungs. i wasn't there for her final passing (i had decided to pick up my sister so that she could be present, and on the way back, got caught in the afternoon traffic). that's something i kind of regret, even though i think i did the right thing. but the same feeling was there. the same thought. how a body after living looks so "real," but how it is just a crystal. a pattern, after the living waters have left... i remember touching my grandma's shoulder; it was the same skin, the same arm, that would always reach to me, to gain my attention. i remember leaning in close. and that was the first time i really could cry, next to that crystal remnant of her, next to the shell that, just a few days earlier, was the greatest source of comfort in my world.

i feel tired. i notice i've been sleeping a lot today. i've not been good with my kids, not been very attentive. i feel bad for them.

there are other issues i'm dealing with. my third observed lesson did not go well. or rather, i thought it went really well, but my observer didn't like it. i don't understand how there could be such a huge difference of opinion. as with previous observed lessons, i came away feeling an immense doubt in my abilities as a teacher. i wrote a lengthy reflection piece to the observed lesson early this morning, and basically vented. i tried to be methodical and rational. i addressed each of the observer's criticisms, clarifying my perspective, or my rationale. but in the end, i suppose it may have come off as being pretty arrogant and recalcitrant.

i will have my final observation on tuesday, and for this next lesson, she's bringing additional support, my advisor. i don't know if i should be happy or worried about this. at least with two observers, there may be the possibility of a more objective and fair assessment. but then again, you never know. i don't know what relationship my advisor and observer have. maybe they're great friends. i'm not sure. in any case, i've said my peace, and i'm sure that my observer will be looking for blood (if she hadn't already been before). to make matters worse, apparently, she will be my instructor for my online class this summer. way to make a great impression...

i suppose i'm not content to just "suck things up," even if it is politic or prudent to do so. if i feel like i don't understand someone's critique or position, then i usually have to voice it sometime or other. if i don't, it just bothers me, and turns me into a bitter, disillusioned person who doesn't believe in himself (i've seen a fair share of teachers fall into this mentality). don't get me wrong. i can take criticism, if it is specific and if i feel it is valid. such criticism gives me a clear vision of how to improve. but if criticism is either vague or "wrong," then all it serves to do is make me doubt my abilities and my thinking, which is terrible. we as teachers shouldn't do this to our kids; it's counterproductive and damaging. why then should i as a student-teacher be subjected to similar damaging critiques?

well, here i go again. i promised i wouldn't write entries that hurt the feelings or interests of others. but this really did bother me, and, to be fair, i haven't revealed details about this individual. if you read this, just be aware that it is only my side of the story. i'm sure my observer has her own take of things...

i remain a positively oriented teacher. i love the kids that i work with, and the teachers/educational assistants that i work with as well. it's a tough job, being a teacher. while i don't agree with all of the things some teachers do, i can see that they care, or they wouldn't be where they are. there's a lot of pressure on teachers, to do this or do that. there's a lot of criticism about how teachers do things. well, i think i just have to focus on the kids, on the mission to help them; that's the heart of the job, anyway. that's what'll keep me focused and inspired.