Goodbye Disabilities Center

It's been almost three years since I worked at the Disabilities Center. Proctoring tests to disabled students was my part-time job in grad school. I am immensely grateful for the experience. I worked daytime only, on campus, and sometimes I was set in duties where I could read or write. The position helped me become a better teacher and certainly a much better person.

I was let go at the start of my final semester of school. I was devastated. My boss fought to keep me, but I was already a halftime instructor for ASU, and with Obamacare looming, the school was was paranoid about providing benefits. In a truly demeaning manner, the HR person for my graduate program wrote me saying I was being forced out of other work because I needed to focus on my studies. (After providing proof I had maintained an A average during my entire tenure at school she admitted, "Okay, it's about not giving you health care.")

I remember one of my last days at work. I was scribing for a student in a wheelchair who didn't have the use of his hands. I wrote out the short answers for him on his history exam. He coughed and asked if I could reach in his bag, get the water bottle, insert a straw, and give him a drink. "Sure," I said. I was holding the water to his mouth and thinking about the exam topics. I was remembering some stuff about Britain's empire I had forgotten since high school. (Another thing I loved about the job--insight to so many subjects!) He said, "Okay," and I put the bottle away. I had a conscious thought, "That would have felt weird two years ago." Even interviewing with my boss, a woman who was very slow to speak with, what seemed like, little control of her head, had set me on edge. I want to believe I was simply concerned in an interview scenario that I wouldn't nail it because I was having some trouble understanding her, but truthfully I had never spent an extended time with anyone much physically different than me. On that Arizona cool December day, while jotting down answers about British opium trade, the bitterness of being forced from my job melted. I felt a swell of thankfulness for the empathy education I had slowly accumulated without even knowing it.

Toleration

Wednesday a student I was proctoring in the testing center yelled at me. He was absolutely disgusted by the Dell computers from 2000 he was expected to use ah pah pah pah. He complained about the wrist strain but all I could do was explain that's all we got. He asked who he could complain to and I didn't really know. I said I'd ask and that I knew we'd been trying to get new computers for a while. He countered, "Just tell someone it's for the engineering school and you'll get them yesterday." It's true. When I go to engineering/sciencey buildings it's like I'm in AI with Haley Joel, meanwhile the bathrooms in the theatre office building make me feel like I'm hangin' out in a Goosebumps novel about a Depression Era toilet ghost.

Anyway, this guy had several problems, panics sessions, angry whisperfests in the silent "distraction free" room. I kept outlining his options, but the truth is, he was just scared, not totally prepared for his final, and needing something/one to blame. As he got snippier and snippier, it was getting to be a feat for me to stay cool and reasonable. The guy left, grumbling, and I overheard him talking to one of my bosses. "Oh!" She chirped, "No worries, I'm sure everything will be just fine." And she really meant it. I don't know. If I had been that student, I might have wanted more. I personally need the solid answers, but apparently not everyone does, as what finally calmed this dude was actually not all the explanations in the world (my approach) but a simple affirmation of peace (my boss's game).

Yesterday as I was clocking in, serendipitously the student crossed me in the hall. "I'm sorry about yesterday," he said (sincerely). "It all worked out. I passed." I congratulated him, and he went on his way. And it's weird, he was relieved. I could tell. Maybe it was rollover from the test results, but I'm almost certain it was a "Oh good. I can apologize" in his eyes. I like this. To me this makes me realize...people are good. We want to apologize. We feel better when we do. How else would we have that strand of emotion if we weren't good?

Deux

May 2012.

Today was the last day of school before fall break. I toted my new floral purse to work stuffed with the lesson, Dave Eggers, and a banana I stole from Ro's fruit bowl. At work I coached a student through a panic attack and my boss asked me if I would walk in the homecoming parade to represent the disability center. "No, my family is coming to see my thesis play." I told her, and she asked if they might rather see the parade. She wasn't kidding, which was actually refreshing. It's just a stupid play. I left at 1 PM, trotted out in my grey sweater, waited on a sun-doppled bench under the small tree out front of the design building. I love the concrete bridge, the cul-de-sac where people kiss and ride. Shells pulled up, windows down, and yelled, straight-up yelled, "ALLLL ABOOOARD!" I cackled like crazy. She took her lunch to see Don Jon* with me. We bought matinee tickets and joined three other people in the theater. Shells and I have a very similar sense of humor, and there is nothing like that.

We snuck foil-wrapped Chipotle into the movie. In the parking lot we remembered it was the first place we ever hung out one-on-one. We'd already become fast friends through sketch comedy, so one afternoon almost exactly two years ago we ditched everyone getting drinks after the show for burritos. I keep writing and deleting what I love about her because it's just boring to everyone else, but, mainly, I am so grateful I showed up in the desert with no one and two years later am surrounded by someones. Things move. There's nothing to be scared of.

*This is my favorite movie I have seen in 2013. A+.

Be the Grace

"The thing is...the thing is, my test--it was today--but. Last night? I don't know what it was. I don't...some kind of food poisoning. I was--look, I was throwing up for, like...for like five hours. I threw up for five hours last night. And so. So. If I could talk to...potentially a doctor. I mean, to get out of the test."

This kid was rambling. Holding a peach skateboard. Built and tone, hip tank, but today scared. Poor guy. I'm just a dumb proctor. I can't ordain a retest. I talked to my supervisor. Okay, we decided. Okay, I will leave the office. I will walk across campus with this kid to his professor's class.

Today was gorgeous. Greens, a windy bluster. But this kid, this kid staring down was all, "What are the odds? I mean, I haven't been sick all semester. And...and now I'm late. I'm sure they hear this all the time, but I really really was sick." Poor, poor kid. We made a game plan. "Should I be next to you?" I asked. "Or should you ask alone?" We decided I would wait by the door. And I hear from down the hall, the kid saying the same word vomit about vomit. And the professor going "Yeah. Yup. Okay. Yeah. Okay?" Long long pause. Professor: "So, what? You wanna take it Monday?" Subtext: "This is Physics 102. I don't GD care when you take this dumb exam." I walked out, we chose a new time. The professor shrugged.

The kid WAS the sunshine. "I can't believe it!" He said over and over. "That was easy!" I agreed. "You know when you cram the night before? I didn't get to cram. I mean, I was going to fail."And he was a flurry with "So, what's your program? How do you like Arizona?" And we were a happy little two-let on the sidewalk. Because a tiny bit of grace goes such a long way.

26 Snapshots of Spring Semester 2013

Kath sitting on my pool deck, legs in.

Accentuating attendance policy questions with minor piano chords.

All the women in the hot tub talkin' Italians.

Kissing Bisque at the orange patterned crossroad in my neighborhood.

Educational bug website always open on my iPhone.

Ro egg shaking in her backyard of lights and bikes.

I have finally seen the light. I have finally realized what you mean.

Salmon cardigan. Jean jacket. Chestnut Uggs. Blue Andy sweatshirt.

Palgrave open. Red and white sprinkled cookies on the table.

Boy with huge eyes yelling, "SOMEONE HAND ME A COMPUTER."

Three hour brunch on a Monday.

Cobra stretched out across Ethiopian carpet, peekin all the guys.

Beasts of the Southern Wild on living room sofa, nose stuffy.

Fishtail braiding Muffy's hair.

Tearing up alone in the ugliest hallway, texts from Jamin.

The honest voice of Sitch. The honest questions of adulthood. The cold.

The best improv set in a hotel room for four people.

"But you're not trying not to be."

Balcony monologue aloud. Wood floors.

Slow swing of Ru's body during "Touch Me."

Falafel crumbs on the steps behind the lecture hall.

Four lovers all wearing the same deodorant in Whole Foods.

Planner open to July. Pencil marks everywhere.

Huge room, four professors, vegan cake puffs center stage.

Looking down at a greased peel. Unwashed hair.

Straw Dog day, kicking around gravel, holding the phone.

Rewards

To live for rewards is to believe in a majority of times/experiences that are Less Than. Each moment is its own reward. Muffy and I discovered this concept on the train, tummies full of scone, hands full of small boutique bags, cheeks scrunched by sunlight. Easy to say then, right?

But I remembered it so strongly this morning as I ran on a structure that secured me over a large body of water (also known as a bridge). My feet felt so GOOD to be moving, my lungs so powerful, my stupid day full of grade meetings and test proctoring so full of opportunities to be grateful and helpful!

Summer vacation starts at 6 PM on Wednesday, but now is also perfect! Even these dummy screenplays by the freshman at this Arizona state school! These are perfect! My bed is full of them! And they are all little rewards for living. Stapled paper trophies! I won! I won!

Excuse the high schooly bathroom mirror shot, but our outfits were matching!

March Luck

There are so many wonderful people that surround my life. They waltz in and they take pictures of me while I scoot home in shorts and galoshes in pouring rain. They greet me at the testing center with Jamba Juice. They get the margherita flatbread because I don't eat meat. They put tiny gold boxes on the metal table. I laugh until I cannot stand.

I ask How did this happen to me? On a good day, on a day I have put on real clothes and eaten oatmeal I say I deserve this. And on days I show up ten minutes late to work because I was Googling the cast of One Tree Hill I ask harder, more times, with earnestness.

The theories:

1. People are not only good. They are great. The odds, they're fabulous. It seems like a miracle to be so connected, but we're all miracles, so it's not.

2. I am just so lucky.

Post Encyclo last night. Ladeez.

Never About

IT IS NEVER ABOUT WHAT IS HAPPENING.
IT IS JUST NEVER ABOUT IT.
IT IS NEVER ABOUT THE MATH TEST.
IT IS ABOUT ME BEING AS UNDERSTANDING AS POSSIBLE
WHEN THE KID IS TRYING TO EXPLAIN
HE NEEDS MORE TIME TO TAKE IT.
THE TELLER DOES NOT CARE
ABOUT THE MONEY IN THE DRAWER--
JUST THAT HER BOSS KNOWS SHE KNOWS
IT'S ALL EVEN.
THE WAITER DOES NOT CARE ABOUT YOUR FOOD
BUT DOES CARE ABOUT YOUR GOOD TIME,
PARTIALLY BECAUSE OF YOUR MONEY,
AND PARTIALLY BECAUSE OF, YOU KNOW,
BEING A DECENT HUMAN.
IT IS NEVER ABOUT HOW I FEEL
IN ACADEMICS AND EVERYTHING ABOUT
I FEEL IN THE ACADEMIC BUILDINGS.
NOBODY IN CHARGE OF MY FUTURE KNOWS
WHO I AM YET. IT'S NOT ABOUT THAT.
THEY MIGHT NEVER.

Tell Me What You Thought About

Today was a solstice day:

-Silent study before sunrise. Lamplit.
-A great ep of Modern Family fuels my workout (Haley + that loser).
-Methods of Teaching Theatre class includes improvisation exercises.
-No students during Office Hours so I grade in the sun.
-Gabbing with Boulder in the far corner of Screenwriting lecture.
-We are short-staffed at work, and I manage everything/one, which is a little hairy, but makes me feel empowered like a pebble might feel empowered. As I clock out, my boss says, "Super Woman" and I pose.
-Many a giggle in the TA office with Hill and Blink.
-Blink, fellow Ethics TA, is loopy and threatens to play the "Thong Song" as students stroll in.
-I get a text telling me to take a bathroom break during the screening portion of class. I walk outside to find Hill and Bisque who present me with a vegan milkshake. And I eat it all! And I am being paid to do this!
-Ethiopian date with Shellz. Big ideas, memories of Sid, lentils.
-Work date with Bug! But we soon realize, we would not work. We would just have Bug + Alice times, and while wonderful, we cannot do such things tonight. Not tonight when I'm trying to ask for thousands of dollars. (Scholarship apps are due tomorrow.) But, we reschedule. That's an important thing--to reschedule.

A certain Kate Moss quote is coming to mind.

Disability Momma

Last spring I wrote about a girl I saw at work (the disability center) who was nervous about a math test to the point of tears and pregnant and very young. I was worried for this girl.

A few weeks after I wrote that post, I saw her again. She was outside a building, waiting for a ride. She looked miserable and was very ripe with babe. It's against policy to approach a student I know from work outside of the center, so I had to just walk on by. I've considered that gal a few times a week spring.

This year, the girl showed up again! She had dark dyed hair now and seemed very happy. She wore a wedding band and carried a cute cartoony backpack. She made small talk with me and showed no signs of anxiety at all. I was so happy. I have no idea if she has the baby or not. I am just glad she is okay.

You never know who is rooting for you.

Half-Moon Tummy

A mousy girl with untamed eyebrows and frizzy brown hair pulled back in a scrunchie sat down across from me at the testing center. I greeted her.
"Hello, do you have a test at 2:30?" It was almost time.
"No," she said. "It's at 3."
"Well, you have a while then."
"I know. I try to get my nerves out before I actually take the test." She adjusted her glasses.
"Well, that's smart." I smiled and went back to reading Catching Fire.
Half an hour later, she was putting her backpack away, and I realized this wiry kid I'd pegged as 19 had a half moon tummy. Preggers.

At about 4 PM one of my co-workers came out of the testing hall. "There's a student who needs to ask the professor a question. Will someone walk her there?" Everyone looked down at their projects, but I felt like sunshine. I volunteered, and mousey wires came out holding the test shakily.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Oh, it's quite alright. I'm looking forward to a walk!"
We left the building, and in the light I could see she had been crying.
"I'm just worried because he might not answer my question," she quivered.
"Well, it's just one question," I said. I smiled at some orange trees.
"It's just...none of my friends have to take chemistry" (she is a bio major I learned) "so they never know what's going on...and I never know what's going on..." Tears welled.

We got to the lecture hall. Hundreds of kids doing equations. She gingerly stepped to the professor and came back, still a little uneasy. "I don't know what I need to know," she said. She sighed and absentmindedly rested a hand on her bump. She said thank you. I said It's my job! And I love AZ in April! We walked on.

"It's okay," I said. "The great thing about tests is that they end no matter what happens. In a couple hours it will be over, and there's nothing else you can do." She nodded, and I handed her test back. As she walked back into the hall, I stared at her stomach. I had so many thoughts. She turned around to give me a final notice of..appreciation? Solidarity? But I was just staring at her middle. I averted my gaze, but it was too late. She saw.

Gay Ads, Whatever It Takes, Asberg Movie Endings, Packing (Or Not), Unique Dinner

1. I can't think of any advertisements featuring a gay couple. Obvi, no brand wants to be known as "The Laundry Detergent for Gays!" but, really, come on. Every faux group at an advertised restaurant looks like the freakin' UN. Can we get some gay love up in here or what?

2. I love Degrassi.

3. Another long day at the testing center--beginning with a very long conversation with a student with Asbergers. His thesis: Twilight is a bad movie. Later he told me his favorite movies and wanted to tell me the end of them all. I said "Oh, no! Please don't." And he literally said, "I have to. I have to tell you." For someone who doesn't even like watching movie previews, this clearly disturbed me. Eventually, he started talking about who should be allowed to create art in this world (not serial killers). And I actually have a really strong opinion about this...and I just started to get so upset. KID, STOP TALKING OVER ME AND STOP SAYING SOME PEOPLE DON'T DESERVE TO PAINT AND STOP SAYING JOHN WAYNE GACY IS THE WORST BECAUSE MEANWHILE THERE IS A MEAT INDUSTRY. So, I got short and started texting obviously as if to say This Convo Is Finito. And he got the hint after a few more attempts at conversation, and then he started talking to someone else. I don't know, am I horrible? I just...I just think even if you have a mental issue, you still shouldn't decide if someone else with a sicker mental issue is allowed to paint or not.

4. I do not want to pack even though I am quite excited to be in California tomorrow for family holiday reunion bonanza bash explosion party woop woop! Nope. Even that ridic string of shindig vocab did not enthuse me to pack.

5. Dinner: Wheat tortilla, spread with peanut cashew almond butter, stuffed with broccoli. Iron Chef--literally. So much iron.

Rain in AZ

Rainy day in Kyoto. 2008.

It rained all day. I'm done with finals--I turned in my last paper yesterday at 10 PM. It was anti-climactic.
It doesn't feel like vacation because 1. it's not Christmas weather yet. 2. I still have work--long, long shifts at work.
Today I worked a ten hour shift. I made a lot of deliveries around campus.
My hood was up and the manilla envelopes holding students' finals were shoved under my sweater.

Everyone was complaining about the weather all day. Gloomy.
My purple Chucks were victims of many a puddle. I do agree with my co-workers: Rain blows. But, also, it's beautiful 98% of the time here. On Sunday night I took a writing break and walked a couple blocks to the mailbox. In shorts. When I got home I kicked off my shoes and continued work on our balcony. I feel like it's just rude to complain. Like, I mean, I could have gone without the chilly drips on my cheeks, but Mother Nature can only do so much, can she not?

I guess we always just want things to be how we want things to be.

Declaring Murder: Part III

We've talked about my place of part-time employment, right? I work at a disability center proctoring tests for students. It's different every day. Sometimes I just sit with ADD kids in a small empty room and read, periodically checking if they are cheating. Sometimes I fill in scantron bubbles for kids with casts. Sometimes I walk around campus delivering completed tests back to professors, wondering how many freaking holiday office parties I am going to interrupt, and how come no one has the decency to offer me any of those delicious cookies.

So, recently I was proctoring for a woman with slow speech, a big leg brace, glasses. I had to read her test aloud and follow her instructions from her to look up answers in her text book. It was an intro biology class. She had failed it three times before she told me. A 100-level class with open book exams. Multiple choice.

This woman did not get how to play the game. For example, if the question was like, "When was the first Homoerectus fossil, Lucy, discovered?" she would say, "Okay, check the Index to see if "fossil" is in there." As a proctor, I can't help students with any material based questions. So, I couldn't offer a simple, "You know, fossil gives us a lot of pages...why not try "Lucy" first?" I just sat there, flipping back and forth between all the uses of "fossil" and reading sections aloud. Sometimes I would read the answer to the question in a section of text, and she wouldn't catch it. I'd repeat, but only as much as she would ask me. I couldn't say, "Hey...it's this. It's D. I just read it."


State Fair poultry. November 2011.

She was really nice, but she just didn't know. Ultimately, I think she did alright. I was just so flustered to be a drone. So flustered this is what education is in the United States at the University level. I asked what her major was as we walked out of the little testing room. She explained she was a sociology major--hoping to one day be a counselor for battered women. "So I can help them get out before it's too late, even though I couldn't," she said. "My husband shot me in the head."

I exhaled. I am so glad I was not short with this woman. I am so glad I have learned patience and understanding over the years. Lord help this woman become a counselor even if she doesn't have a brain for biology.