Let Me Tell You Something About Kids Today

. . . they are chomping at the bit, full of desire to change the world, make a difference, have their voices heard, make a statement, be individuals and part of the crowd at the same time. To organize a group of people to do anything substantial is difficult for adults, let alone for kids. But the 8th grade students of Houston Hall at Shaker Junior High School succeeded. They started a movement that caught on to many and captured hearts throughout the hallways and spilled out onto the track and the bleachers today as we took part in our annual hall competition: The Big Track Meet. To describe it in words would not do it justice, so I leave you with photos, photos of how our futures are in great hands because kids today know how to problem solve, how to think critically, how to encourage people, how to join together for a cause, how to show compassion and concern when they feel helpless. Houston 8 . . . remarkable!!

A Stranger Takes Over

Chemo. Hmmmm, not sure how to describe it. I guess surprisingly uneventful the first couple of days is a good start. I went on with life as if there were no poisonous liquids traveling through my body. Then Tuesday came. Not completely sure how I got to work. I suppose I drove the 50 minutes as I normally do because no one beeped at me or gave me the finger, but I honestly don't know how I got there. When I walked through the doors of the junior high I could hear all the chatter around me and see the faces, but no doubt, I was not there. A stranger had taken over my body. I felt withdrawn, having no affect, trying to force smile but knowing inside I could not bring one to the foreground. It was a little scary. To think that this was the person I was going to be for the next several months was frightening. This was not the person I came to know and love. One of my friends at work asked me how I was feeling and I thought I would break down and cry. I think I just answered, "Not myself"and even focusing long enough on her to form those words seemed a chore. As the day went on, people looked more concerned. I faked my way through teaching and took solace in a trip to Stewarts for a bowl of rainbow sherbert on my lunch break to get away from the voices and find something that made me feel normal. The rest of the day went much like the beginning. Coming home and plopping on the comfort of my squeaky couch while watching Ethan and his friend play Mario Brothers was a relief, when oftentimes it can get annoying. Bed came early Tuesday along with the fear I would wake up the same way today.

NOPE! Today was shockingly 100% better. I felt like a cloud had been lifted from my brain in my dreams. I remember the drive to work. I was singing to Fergie. I walked into school with a real smile and had conversations I remember. And I did not try to escape during lunch to avoid people. Today I was Toni again. Now, I understand, that is not necessarily always a good thing, but I kinda like her.

Wrapped In Support

I'm sitting here wrapped in the most precious quilt, a quilt created through the generous hands of some of the most thoughtful people in my life, including people who never even picked up a needle and thread. An idea born in the mind of one friend and carried out by many more. I see the concern in their faces. Cancer is something people do not know how to respond to. People don't know if they should talk to me about it or not. They aren't sure of what to say or how to say it. This quilt speaks loud and clear the hearts of so many people. People who gave up their time and talent, whether they thought they possessed it or not, to speak their hearts. This quilt will go with me to chemo on Friday and stay with me often throughout my treatment and beyond. I will feel the warmth of the material, but mostly I will feel the warmth of the individuals who made it wrapped around me.

Just An Accessory

When the door closed to the wig room of the Jean Paul Salon and the "wig lady" said, "So why are you here?" my only response was to cry. I am not even sure why. Maybe mostly because I felt the closing of the door symbolized the end of my femininity for a while. On the other side of that door were women getting their beautiful hair washed, cut, colored and styled, so many of the things that make us feel girly. On my side of the door, girly was about to be stripped away by synthetic hair. Thankfully, I wasn't in there long before my girlfriends showed up and turned that room into a celebration of synthetic (except for the one that looked like a mullet). That little room became a safe place for an hour. Then the door opened and I became nervous again, passing by some long highlighted layers, a blond high ponytail, a head full of curls for pre-wedding approval. By the time the stylist started cutting I knew it really didn't matter how it turned out because if it was awful, I wouldn't have to deal with it very long. By the time the stylist stopped cutting I knew it would be a while before I sat in that chair again. Bittersweet. But when I saw the final product I felt relieved. It's not so bad. And losing it in a few weeks will not be so bad. My femininity is going to be compromised but not depleted. I don't need hair to make me feel beautiful. At the salon, my girlfriends made me feel beautiful. When I got home, my husband and son made me feel beautiful. And reading all of your comments make me feel beautiful. Hair is just an accessory. And I've got lots of accessories.

A Class Act!

Remember when you were in 8th grade? I was exactly like most of the 8th graders I currently teach: more concerned about my hair than my grades, more concerned about walking "the long way" to see a boy I had a crush on than getting to class on time, more concerned about what the five page note my best friend gave me before class said than the notes my English teacher was rambling about.

Yesterday I stood before about one hundred generally rambunctious, giggly, chatty 8th graders in an auditorium where you could have heard a pin drop when I shared with them the news. These 8th graders transformed before my eyes. There is the one boy with whom I struggle each day to find a new approach to subdue his behavior and distractability issues who stopped me in the hallway and said, "Mrs. Lyng, you really scared me today when you started talking, but when you were done I felt better." There are the sweet ESL girls who secretly left the most thoughtful, incredibly well written, emotion-filled letters on my desk. There is the one sweetheart who pulled me aside with tears in her eyes and had the courage to tell me her mom is going through the exact same thing. And now, I hear of two other self-less young ladies who are organizing a hall "movement" to show their support and solidarity as we go through this journey together.

People will often roll their eyes when I tell them I teach 8th graders and comment that is takes a special kind of person to teach middle school. Yesterday I had never felt so special, indeed! These 8th graders can change the mind of any skeptic. These 8th graders forgot about their hair, their crush and their notes and left on impact on me so huge I will never forget them.

Shaker pride!

People have asked me on various occasions why I want to continue to work at Shaker when I could get a job so much closer to home. I have had the same answer every time: It IS home to me. This experience has solidified my reasons for always coming back to Shaker Junior High even after having left and moved 60 miles away four years ago. It is at Shaker where I met one of the best friends I will ever have, someone who has been there with me through some memorable life experiences for nine years and who was sitting in the hallway waiting for me when I came back to work the day I was diagnosed. It is at Shaker where I met my two beautiful girlfriends with whom I shared the concern of the lump I found in February. They wasted no time telling me to get my butt down to the office and call my doctor immediately. It is with their reaction that I saved my body months of continued tumor growth. It is at Shaker where I have encountered tremendous support, honest to goodness love and genuine concern from people who have known for weeks about this fight, who are constantly checking on me and letting me know they care. It is at Shaker where I shared my news to the remaining faculty today. It was time. Changes are coming. I do not want people to look at me in shock when they see me in the copyroom with no hair. I do not want conversations to stop when I walk into a room with the obvious scramble for a good cover-up conversation. And I do not want people to treat me like I have cancer. I am the same person I was pre-diagnosis: generally happy, positive, sarcastic, silly, and overly concerned about fashion, as shallow as that may sound. This will not change when chemo sets in and my hair checks out. I am not fragile. I am strong and ready to fight this wearing a cute outfit, sexy shoes and a great pair of earrings!

Shaker is my home away from home. I never even looked for a job elsewhere. And now I know why. Again, thank you, God. Your plan is more clear with every step.