I have asked several friends, co-workers, and family members to write about what a Catholic education means to them. Previously, Gina Sabo, the Technology Integration Specialist, at St. Joan of Arc School in Aberdeen, wrote about why she chooses to teach in a Catholic school. Today, she reveals 5 reasons why she and her husband, Jon, have decided to send their 7-year-old son, Danny, to St. Joan of Arc. I'm blessed to have the Sabo family in my life at home and at school.
Why do I send my son to a Catholic School? by Gina Sabo
My husband and I have been happily married for almost 10 years. We have a beautiful, rambunctious, 7-year old boy, and two years ago, we had to make an important decision. We had to consider serious, life-altering decisions (I was in the middle of changing jobs) on where we would want our young impressionable child to start his formal education.
Now, my husband and I were both part of the “hybrid” Catholic School and public school upbringing. We had attended both types of environments at some point in our educational career, so we knew what each type of school brought to the table.
The public school our son would be attending had several amazing teachers, great after school opportunities he could participate in, and many of his friends would attend the same school. Their test scores were high, and they had access to the public library programs right next door. The before and after school program would allow for us to not make any major changes to our work schedules, however, it would cost as much for the Catholic School tuition. With that being said, it was a serious contender in our discussions.
The Catholic School we were considering had students who performed well on standardized test scores, and the student-teacher ratio was something public school teachers dream about. It offered Spanish, art, and music much like the public school, and SMART Boards, and iPads in every classroom. But the most important difference we saw in the Catholic School that was lacking in the public school was the spirit you felt walking through the front door.
So here are just a few reasons why we choose to send our son to Catholic School:
Like many families, we pray together as a family. We say grace at mealtimes and we ask our guardian angels to watch over us when things get tough. But we also try to pray throughout the day. When we encounter an accident while we are traveling anywhere (the store, long trips to see family, etc.) we always say a quick prayer for whoever was involved. We thank God for all the beautiful things we encounter in nature. At our school, we say morning prayers, Grace, a short prayer before classes start. Sometimes we even pray the rosary together as a school. My son is able to freely ask questions about his faith, and discuss how much he enjoys learning about God and praying with his friends. It is my husband’s and my hope that through our guidance and the continued support from the school, that our son turns to God in times of need.
Okay, so this may seem like an odd reason to send my child to Catholic School, but hear me out. Although uniforms can be expensive, most Catholic Schools participate in a uniform exchange program. This helps keeping the cost down for many families. Uniforms are also a timesaver in the morning. Although I have to remember if it is a P.E. day or regular uniform, I don’t have to argue over whether or not a certain shirt is clean. This allows for more family time in the morning before we trek to work and school. While in school, it is clear that it is time to focus on the learning, and not who has the best label or newest shoes. Everyone was created equal in the eyes of God, so why not extend that into the learning environment as well.
Wanting to Serve Others
In school, each grade level participates in outreach and service projects. Students make sandwiches for the hungry, collect money for the poor. This year, they participated in the Water Project to raise awareness and money for those who do not have access to clean water. At Christmas time, the school rallies together and sponsors a family. The students and their families gather gifts for those who are less fortunate. In our own families, we volunteer for Faith Formation Classes, take food to those less fortunate for Thanksgiving, and help out with other church-sponsored activities.
Danny paints a bowl for the Empty Bowls program
It is my hope, that through my husband’s and my example, as well as through his experience in the Catholic School, that our son sees that we don’t do these things just to give back to the community (though this too is noble) but, that we are following in Jesus’s footsteps, and he will continue to do so as he gets older.
It’s Academic …. But Not the Most Important Thing
Yes, learning is an important aspect of any school. However, it wouldn’t matter if the school had a state of the art Science lab, a robotics club, or drama. I am more concerned that my child becomes a kind, selfless person. The Catholic School practices the same values that we as parents “preach” at home.
Can’t Do It Alone
Jon and Danny Sabo on the first day of school.
Although I would like to believe that my husband and I would be able to provide all our son needs to have a personal relationship with God. That he will grow up to value his Catholic faith and upbringing. But I would be naive to believe that we could do that alone. Children learn from example; not only from their parents/guardians, but also from other children and adults. We do what we can at home, but in this day and age, we can use all the help we can get. I am so thankful for the community of our Catholic School. You see, our school is similar to the public school in many ways. But it is clearly more than just a school. It is a tight knit community. Our students, faculty, and parents come together every day in a community of faith and warmth. Something that has grown increasingly more important in a world of harsh realities. Our school provides an important space for our students to feel a sense of belonging and a safe haven to openly discuss their beliefs, hopes, and dreams. Yes, our school prepares their minds, but with the help of our Catholic Faith, it prepares their souls.
February 13, 2017 12:00
By Robyn Barberry
I asked several friends, coworkers, and family members to write about what Catholic schools mean to them. Today you will hear from my dear friend and colleague, Gina Sabo, who is the Technology Integration Specialist at St. Joan of Arc School in Aberdeen. It's been an honor to work with her over the past decade in several settings. We both agree that working at SJA has brought us tremendous happiness.
5 reasons why I teach in a Catholic school by Gina Sabo
The author and her son, Danny, on the first day of school.
Why do I teach in a Catholic School?
I have heard this question and many other as to my choice to teach in a Catholic school.
“Aren’t you limiting yourself career wise? There’s not much room for growth!”
“Aren’t you afraid of your school closing?”
“You know you can get paid more in the public school, right?”
In reality, my school isn’t much different than that of a public school. Our students come from all walks of life. We have parents that email...some more than others. We have meetings and professional development. Behavior problems. More meetings. Standardized testing. Budgets. And new standards to meet.
But the one thing that makes my school stand out - God. My School’s Mission Statement describes a “faith community of educators, learners, and families using God’s gifts to develop 21st Century skills of innovation, collaboration, problem-solving, and reasoning to enrich the global society” (St. Joan of Arc School). It is within this type of environment that I cannot imagine being without.
So when I have to “defend” my decision to teach in the Catholic School, here are just five of the reasons:
As I mentioned before, our school is a tight-knit community of teachers, students, parents, and administrators. Some could say that it is because we all have that one thing that binds us together-faith, but I tend to lean more towards the fact that we truly care about each other. We have students who return after graduation talking of how much they loved the sense of belonging they felt while attending our school. As teachers, we bond together over shared students we have watched grow over the years. The administration gets to know each child on an individual level, and cheers them on by name. Even our Pastor, Father Willie Franken, offers words of wisdom and guidance to our families at just the right time. Faculty, students, and parents all come together and pray for those who are sick, celebrate a new baby or wedding shower, or even provide a special gift to a student whose family needs to leave mid-year.
Encourages Me to Be a Better Christian and Role Model
Honestly, it doesn’t matter if you attend or teach at a public or Catholic school; all teachers are being watched daily by their students and parents. Eyes are always watching to see how to react and how they should structure their behaviors. Parents are personally making sure teachers are meeting their students’ needs. In my school, however, students are also watching my devotion to the Lord. My students can smell the difference between real and fake, so this encourages me to constantly keep myself in check and be authentic in my relationship with my students and God.
Everything is Geared Towards Christ
In the public school setting, I was constantly worried about offending someone. I had to watch what I said and how I said it. In the Catholic school, I am able to complement, discuss, and even explain my beliefs without worry of offending my students. Often, I can praise a student “God has truly blessed you with the talent for drawing,” or thank a student for their help during Mass. Students can openly discuss their love for God and our daily lessons are often linked to the Fruits of the Spirit.
Holidays - Big and Small
In the Catholic school, the holidays - both big and small - are celebrated with a certain sort of style. The Christmas season appears more humble throughout the school. Giving, rather than receiving, is the moving force within the classrooms. Students focus on service projects and the birth of Christ. In May we celebrate Mary, the mother of Jesus. As a school, we meet in the “Grotto” outside our building and place the crown of flowers atop her head and recite a shortened version of the rosary. It is these spiritual practices that, for me, make teaching in the Catholic School special.
Someone Always Has Your Back
No matter where you work, obstacles are always encountered. Calling for help can include a conversation with technical support, help from a co-worker, or even a meeting with your boss. Working in a Catholic School, you can seek help from a higher authority. Our staff begins each week in prayer. Just before the students enter the building, we gather together in our Faculty Lounge, and thank God for our abilities and blessings, and ask for his help. Throughout the school year, we support each other in highs and lows. We celebrate the small victories and pray over difficult times. We are assured through our faith that no matter what happens, God’s love for us will be there forever.
February 12, 2017 12:35
By Robyn Barberry
Last Saturday, December 10th, 2016, my parents, Collin, and I visited the Irish Railroad Workers Museum on Lemmon Street in Baltimore for their Irish Christmas Celebration. Alongside the apple cider, scones, and Celtic Christmas ornament crafts, we received a tour of two tiny row houses, one of which represented an Irish family’s home during the 1860s. A family not unlike that of my Irish immigrant ancestors. And surprisingly, a family not unlike my own today. A family that could have been mine, not so long ago.
The Feeley family lived in a space the size of my living room and dining room (and my house isn't very big.) James, the head of the household, worked long, hard days as a boilermaker at the B&O railroad, while Mrs. Feeley raised the children and took in extra money by doing other people’s laundry over their hearth, hanging everything to dry in the small yard where their outhouse was.
There was no running water. Food was purchased at the Hollins Street Market, a short walk away. A winding, narrow, trepidacious staircase leads to the second floor. As I carried 5-month-old Teagan up and down the stairs, I thought for sure we'd stumble and meet a certain death. I wondered how Mrs. Feeley managed to make the trip upstairs and down carrying one of her children and laundry and water.The Feeley baby slept in a cradle in the parents’ bedroom while the older children shared a bed across the hall.
A simple ball and cup toy kept the children entertained.
The family worshiped at St. Peter’s Church, where the children attended school. (You can see it from their house. )
Not all of the children lived to adulthood due to diseases, such as cholera and typhoid fever, the latter of which was the cause of a major epidemic in Baltimore at this time. But, the Feeley family prevailed, like my own, passing along their heritage and their faith to future generations.
In 2016, I complain that my house is too small for my four children, my husband, our two cats, and myself. But, when I compared it to the size of the little house on Lemmon Street, I am amazed at how blessed we are. My husband works hard as a farmer, while I spend a considerable amount of time at home with my children. We have a spacious kitchen and an extremely efficient washer and dryer (though I STILL can't keep up with the laundry), as well as indoor plumbing. Our tap water is filtered. I have access to fresh food from all over the world at Wegman’s, but prefer to buy fruits and vegetables from my local farmer, Brad, in the growing season. Last year, I took a nasty spill down the wooden stairs to my second floor, but I survived. (I'm still apprehensive when I'm carrying something or someone.) Baby Teagan sleeps in a cradle beside my bed, while her brother shared a bed across the hall up until a few weeks ago when they got bunkbeds. The iPad is my boys' favorite toy. We are active members of our parish, St. Joan of Arc, where my son goes to school and I teach art. (We can see it from our house.) I pray every day for my children to stay healthy and live long lives. I am eternally grateful for the medical care we have available to us, particularly vaccines to prevent the kinds of diseases that took the lives of many children.
After visiting the Irish Railroad Workers Museum, I look at my household and lifestyle through new eyes. What would my great-great grandmother say if she heard me complaining that the water in the shower was too hot because someone turned on the dishwasher? How would she feel if she saw me hydrating my flu-stricken sons with a magical potion called Pedialyte so that they could make a full recovery in just a few days? At the same time, how would she feel if she saw me walking my children to church on Sunday? My ungratefulness aside, I like to think that she would be proud. Our foundations on faith, family, and heritage have been passed down through the decades and preserved our Irish Catholic identity. Though modern conveniences, medicine, and workplace situations have changed, we should always remember where we came from and thank God for getting us here.
The Irish Railroad Workers Museum is located at 920 Lemmon St. in Baltimore and is open Friday and Saturday from 11 am - 2 pm and Sunday from 1-4 pm. I'd like to extend a special thanks to Luke and Cecelia for their hospitality and education.
December 17, 2016 10:23
By Robyn Barberry
On most Friday nights, you can find the Barberry 6 relaxing at home, watching the Orioles or playing Kerplunk. It’s too hard for us to find a place that’s fun, affordable, and accommodating for our 3 boisterous boys and newborn girl. So, when I heard that FUNdamentals, an early learning and activity center in Forest Hill, was having an Olympic-themed event the whole family could enjoy, we signed up right away.
The owner, Natalie Henry, was a classmate in my high school’s “Working with Children” program, which gave students who were considering becoming teachers and day care workers the opportunity to experience firsthand what it would be like to teach preschool-aged students about colors, numbers, letters, and social skills. I remember Natalie being a standout instructor. Everyone wanted to be in her group. She’s creative, upbeat, and burning with energy, which are some of the most important characteristics to have when working with very young children. Natalie usually runs daytime and evening classes for kids from ages 18 months to 5 years, but she’s recently added themed events for the whole family on one Friday night a month.
At 5:30 pm on 8/26, Natalie warmly greeted my two friends, myself, and our combined total of seven children at the door of FUNdamentals. The lobby area was full of bright colors and festive red, white, and blue “Olympic” decorations, including a stage where the “winners” could pose with their medals at the end. Beyond the lobby was an enormous space (bigger than my house, for sure) full of moon bounces, a train table, a ball pit, hippity-hops, and tons of balloons. The little guys ran around on the cushy mat in socks and bare feet. There was so much to do that no one got into an argument – not even my Frank and Leo.
After about half an hour, Natalie very gently sang a song to gather the children around her so she could whisper the instructions to them. She was like the Pied Piper when she led the bigger kids off to a separate, smaller area to do some coloring and a toilet-paper tube and tissue paper “Olympic torch” craft and the little guys to a circle time exercise. They sang some silly songs, including one about sticking bubble gum to various parts of their bodies (the hair had to be the worst!) and played a few games.
The grand event was the series of activities and obstacle courses Natalie set up and demonstrated. There was a balance beam, some “weight-lifting,” basketball, and several other games to keep big kids and little kids engaged in a little fun Friday night competition. Even the adults got little chalkboards to “score” gymnastics.
As the petite gold medalists (they all were, of course) left the arena, Natalie made sure they took photographs at the photo booth and brought home some prizes – glow sticks, kites, anything and everything that could make a kid feel like he or she was a winner. (Even I felt victorious for finding a great place for my family to spend a Friday night --- for a grand total of $25!
While Natalie was acting as ring master, I took the time to talk to her family, who had all come to support her in this big new venture. I learned very quickly that she has always been gifted with children and that owning a place like FUNdamentals was always her dream, but that because she had children of her own, she wasn’t sure how she could balance working at home and running a business. When this place came on the market, she took it as a sign from God that it was meant to be…but she proceeded with caution for fear of having her heart broken.
When I asked her about it, Natalie said, “I’m trying to teach my children not to pray for selfish things. It was a test for me not to ask for this business to be mine. Instead, I asked for God to be my guide, to light my path, and I would follow.”
Natalie runs FUNdamentals with the mind of a natural teacher and the heart of Christian woman. There is no doubt that God made her for this wonderful place and this wonderful place was made for her. All of us left with our spirits uplifted.
We can’t wait to visit again this Friday, September 16th, at 5 pm for Super Hero Night! It’s $10 per child or $25 per family and people of all ages are invited to join in the FUNdamentals at 2211 Commerce Drive in Forest Hill, MD 21050. Hope to see you there!
September 13, 2016 12:21
By Robyn Barberry
For almost a year, we have been together. First you lived inside of me; then, in my arms. I haven’t left your side for longer than a few hours since the day you were born. On Wednesdays when your brothers were with your grandmother, I had you to myself. You’d nuzzle up to me in your carrier while we shopped for groceries. We were almost as close as when you were in my belly and there was no one else in the world but us. That was our time. No one can ever take those early days away.
Now, it’s time for you to share me with the rest of the world. Today is my first day back to work. It’s my first day being without you. But, it will be okay.
I teach art to kids in a small Catholic school so that I can provide nourishment for our family and for my spirit. My job could never bring me as much joy as you have in these past six weeks, but if I’m going to be away from you, I may as well be doing something else that I love. When I’m not your mommy, I’m Mrs. Barberry. And I like having both of those names.
I can’t carry you around all day while I teach. You'd be too heavy. You'd get messy. And, you’re so cute that my young students wouldn’t pay attention to me. The girls would coo over you and comment on your outfit like you were a runway star. Most of the boys would ignore you, unless you spit up. (They'd probably like that.)
My students would compete for my attention, too, because I can’t stop gazing at you or smelling you or kissing you or brushing my fingertips across your rose petal skin. When I’m at work, I need to focus on my students. But, from time to time I glance over at the photographs of you and your brothers on my desk. They remind me that I’m working to make a better life for you. (It especially helps when my students are acting up!)
Your picture is all I have of you today. The one of you draped in my wedding dress and veil on my desk and the one I took of you yesterday in the coral dress my students’ mom made for you. (It’s the picture I’d share with my coworkers when they asked about you.) I snapped one last picture of you in your pajamas before getting you dressed.
I drank in every drop of you, Sweet Tea, before your Daddy loaded you up for a fun day at your Lovey’s. I kissed you goodbye as Daddy walked out the door. The second he closed the door, I cried, just as I did for each of your brothers. Even though I knew you were heading to another place where you’d be held close and surrounded by love, I wished that I could be the one to share the day with you. I breathed in the milky smell of your pjs (the ones with the little teal and purple birds on them that your brother’s teacher gave you.)
Throughout the day, I kept checking the clock and counting the hours until we’d be together again. Your grandmother sent a picture of you to my phone. It made me smile and boosted my energy. Before I knew it, the workday was over and you were back in my arms. I asked about your day. You hummed and purred. That will have to do for now.
As much as I wish I could be there for every moment of your life, I can’t. Sometimes the only place where I can hold you is in my heart. I know I’m going to miss some milestones. You may say your first word to a grandparent. A babysitter might be the first witness to your first go-round on a bike. That first tooth might fall out when you’re in someone else’s class. But, I will be there when you need me instead of someone else. I’ll read to you. I’ll listen to you practice your recorder (but only if I can wear ear plugs). I’ll wait for hours with you at the MVA to get your first license. I’ll cheer as you walk across a stage. I’ll sob when you down that aisle. If you call, I’ll always pick up the phone. And I’ll never stop praying for you.
August 29, 2016 02:05
By Robyn Barberry
While Patrick and I were preparing to be married, we attended Pre-Cana classes with Kevin and Gilly MacNamara. During one of our sessions, Kevin revealed to Patrick and me the secret to any successful relationship (especially marriage): clear expectations.
When meeting someone new or intensifying an established relationship, you can prevent conflict and hardship by finding out what the other person expects you to do and not do. At the same time, you let that person know what you do and do not expect to happen between the two of you. Then, you follow through.
This rule has helped Patrick and me to have a very happy marriage, with minimal disagreements. Chores are spilt up, financial boundaries are established, and parenting decisions are agreed upon and mutually unforced. This philosophy has also helped me to get along better with other family members, friends, colleagues, and students. I’ve even started teaching Collin about the importance of meeting other people’s expectations, starting at school. “It’s a new year, with a new teacher, and new rules. Your job is to keep us your end of the promise, so that she can teach and you and your classmates can learn.”
Today, Collin started second grade in Mrs. Amato’s class at St. Joan of Arc School. In addition to being Collin’s teacher, she is also my colleague. She gave an excellent presentation at a faculty meeting last week about PBIS (positive behavioral intervention systems), or rewarding students who demonstrate expected behaviors. By informing students of, exemplifying, and modeling school rules, teachers make it easier for students to do the right thing.
We all laughed when Mrs. Amato described her method of teaching church etiquette. When the church is empty, she has half of the class stand before the altar, facing the congregation, and the rest of the class slouch, yawn, whisper, and otherwise fiddle around. Then they switch. “That’s what Father sees when he’s giving Mass,” she tells them.
Mrs. Amato even has a bulletin board describing what students should and should not do in her classroom. On the first day of class, she will go over each item with the students. She offers examples of how students can demonstrate our school’s expectations, “respect, responsibility, and leadership” by “using a quiet voice,” “using time wisely,” and “volunteering to help,” to name a few. There are even morning and afternoon procedures and a protocol for keeping their desks organized. Mrs. Amato's students will have no doubts about the dos and don'ts of second grade.
Students will earn Class Dojo points and other incentives for exemplary behavior and negative consequences for failing to meet expectations. By using a rewards system, students become conditioned to make good decisions that will have a positive impact on the classroom climate.
When Collin gets home from school, we will talk about Mrs. Amato’s expectations, what they are and why they’re important. We will also develop some rules and routines at home that are fit for a big-kid second grader. Ultimately, more freedom, more responsibility, and more expectations will lead to more success at home, at school, and in life.
August 29, 2016 10:43
By Robyn Barberry
On the first morning of what was going to be one of the most important years of his childhood (loose teeth, bike rides, First Eucharist, cursive handwriting, acting classes), Collin woke up with a bad case of the greedy gimmes.
He woke up begging me to open his gifts. With Patrick's permission, I presented Collin with the three small gifts we had picked out for him: a paint-your-own mini tile set, an Apples-to-Apples photo edition game, and a hardcover Lego book. We couldn't afford much, as we were hosting a small party for him at the local miniature golf course later that day, were going on vacation the following week, and were getting used to being a family of six since his sister had arrived two weeks earlier.
"Where are my other presents?" Collin asked on the morning of his 7th birthday.
"Maybe you'll get some from your friends at your party later on today," I said.
"Birthdays aren't about eating cake with your friends," he said. "It's about getting lots of presents."
"It's important to be with the people you love on your birthday," I told him. "Whether they give you presents or not. When they do, you should always thank them for taking the time to think of you and pick out something they thought you'd like to have. If you don't, you could really hurt their feelings. They might think you don't like their gift. They might think you don't like them.
So, here are the rules:
If they give you something you like, you say, 'thank you.'
If they give you something you don't like, you say, 'thank you.'
If they give you something you already have, you say, 'thank you.'
It's called gratitude. The more you show, the more you will receive. People are more likely to give you something if you show that you appreciate it. Even God likes it when we say 'thanks' for the blessings he's given us."
At his birthday party, Collin acted like the good friend I knew he was. He introduced his friends to his new sister, spent a little bit of time with everyone and demonstrated some genuine enthusiasm every time he opened a gift. I tried to encourage him to thank each of his friends personally for their gifts, but for added measure, we will spend tomorrow afternoon writing notes of gratitude on a stack of comic-style thank you cards, which Collin selected himself. After all, he has a lot to be grateful for.
July 31, 2016 10:11
By Robyn Barberry
It used to be that the news of a new baby’s arrival was shared with family and friends through a “birth announcement” printed on paper. It would include the baby’s parents’ names, birth date and time, weight, length, and, if you were lucky, a photograph, which was probably taken in the hospital. Sometimes there would be a “phone tree” in which the new arrival’s nearest and dearest relatives would speak with one of the parents then spread the news to their own extended families.
Flash forward to 2016 and everyone you know can find out everything they’d ever want to know about your newborn, including a plethora of pictures and live video, within moments of his or her grand entrance.
When I delivered my firstborn, Collin, seven years ago, Patrick and I did have Facebook and were able to post a picture of our new family a few hours after he was born.
The upload seemed to take forever and the Blackberry photo was both grainy and blurry, but a little less than a hundred of our Facebook friends, most of whom we knew from college, sent their congratulations soon thereafter. Most of our family members (especially folks who hadn’t recently graduated from college) weren’t partaking in social media, or even texting, so we arranged for all of them to come to our house for a “Welcome Home” party a few weeks later. (They also received phone calls from the hospital or from another family member.)
Three years later, in 2012, I delivered Frank. Again, we posted the news and photo on Facebook.
This time we had twice as many friends “like” our post, including some of our tech-savvy older relatives. But, a new etiquette had also been established in that it was no longer acceptable for your closest loved ones to find out important news on social media. They were entitled to a personalized text message with an appropriate wait-time before sharing the news with acquaintances. Naturally, we obliged…but we still had a big Welcome Home party for our extended family to get to see our little bundle.
The following year, we welcomed Leo on October 18th, 2013. In that short time almost all of my aunts, uncles, cousins, coworkers (past and present), former students, and casual friends were on Facebook. Almost 400 people liked the picture we posted of our giant 11 lb. 12 oz. monster of a baby. Almost 300 of them wrote comments, mostly about his size or the fact that he looked identical to me or that we were going to have our hands full with three boys!
Our nearest and dearest received texts first, but there was no party. Some people didn’t get to meet him in person until Thanksgiving – or even later – but they were able to keep up with Leo on Facebook and through decent quality pictures I texted them with my iPhone.
On July 6th, 2016, God blessed our family with a beautiful “little” girl named Teagan Rose. I say “little” in quotes because she weighed almost as much as Leo (11 lbs. 10 oz.) and was the longest of all of my children at 24 ½ inches. She was born in four minutes. I was literally texting my three best friends who were checking in on me (thanks to technology we are practically omnipresent) when I realized it was time to deliver the baby. I thought I had a few hours left, but within an instant, Teagan was here.
After giving ourselves some time to get acquainted with the girl of our dreams, we sent out a picture of her and her stats via text. The last few times we sent text messages, it took a while to hear back from our friends and family. This time we heard from just about everyone in under thirty minutes.
So, when we posted our announcement on Facebook, it didn’t take long for nearly six hundred people to give Teagan the “thumbs up” and offer congratulatory comments. I don't tell you this because I want you to think I'm popular. I tell you this to show how far our reach has become in the digital age. (And to show you how much the quality of photos has improved on smart phones in seven years!) As the messages poured in, we were overcome with joy that so many people were wishing us well.
Two days later, those same people were offering up prayers for Teagan, who ended up being admitted to the NICU for respiratory distress.
We were getting ready to be released when our nurse expressed concern about how rapidly her chest was moving up and down. A pediatrician saw her right away and ordered some tests to be done to ensure that she didn’t have pneumonia, an infection, or a congenital heart defect we were concerned about throughout the pregnancy.
I had never been so scared in my life as I was when they whisked her away. I prayed through my tears, feeling helpless, lost, even angry. But I knew that God would take care of her. And I knew that prayer does work. So, I posted about our ordeal on Facebook and asked my friends to pray for Teagan. Almost instantly, my Facebook page swelled with spiritual support from my Catholic friends, Protestant friends, Jewish friends, Muslim friends, and Hindu friends. Even my friends who haven’t found a connection with God sent up kind thoughts.
Well wishes came from as far away as Australia from the woman who was making the Baptism invitations I had ordered from Etsy. These would serve as quasi-announcements for our grandparents, aunts, uncles, and friends who choose to live "off the grid." Besides, who doesn't like receiving something other than bills in the mail?
A few minutes after the messages of prayer and positive thoughts started popping up on my Facebook feed, our nurse told us that we could go back to see Teagan. She was in a bassinet with a few wires attached to her to monitor her heart rate and oxygen levels. I held on to her little finger and watched her chest rise and fall, quick and shallow. The pediatrician explained all her testing to us, including an EKG that was about to happen. But, we had to leave for a few minutes.
When I got back to the room, I sent another update, asking friends to pray that her EKG would go well. It did. I let them know when we found out her heart is flawless. All of us rejoiced and sent up prayers of gratitude.
Teagan still needed to stay in the NICU for several days because the doctor wanted to give her antibiotics. He couldn’t rule out infection without the results of blood tests that would take several days to be processed. I was anxious that we would need to go home and leave her at the hospital, but there was a gorgeous new NICU with room for both Patrick and I to stay and watch over her. Dr. Mena, our nurse Sara, and everyone who took care of Teagan also took care of us. They clearly explained the situation to us and regularly updated us on her progress and setbacks. The anxiety we felt earlier was replaced by confidence that Teagan was in the right hands -- God's and Dr. Mena's and his team.
In a way, the NICU stay was a blessing. The doctor and nurses caught Teagan’s condition before we went home. She received the care she needed right away. It also offered us some additional time to get to know her while her brothers got some special time with their grandparents. We even got to go out to dinner because Teagan needed a procedure that we couldn’t be present for. “We left our daughter with the most highly qualified babysitters in the world!” I told Patrick as we chowed down on burgers and fries.
The medical team never could figure out exactly what was wrong with Teagan, but they suspect she aspirated on amniotic fluid because she was born so quickly. I attribute all of the prayers from my friends and family on Facebook and in the real world to the quick progress she made and the serenity I needed to get through a nerve-wracking experience. I especially appreciated the comments and messages from my friends who have had their babies in the NICU. If there’s one good thing about social media, it’s that you can always find someone who can relate to you. You’re never alone.
But, sometimes phone calls and more personal messages, rather than public comments, from people we’re closest to can be the most powerful form of communication. My lifelong best friend Rachel texted me a picture of the cover of a magazine, which had our wonderful doctor on it! She also told me, “The NICU doctors and nurses are absolutely amazing. Stay strong and take it day by day…she will be home and healthy before you know it.”
Within a few days, we were carrying Teagan Rose through our front door and into our lives for good! (And you better believe we posted that!)
July 27, 2016 12:02
By Robyn Barberry
I’m at a point in my life where I know a lot of other women who are expecting babies. Many of my friends, family members, and former students who have entered the “adult” phase of their lives, are simultaneously sharing the experience of carrying and growing a life.
I found out I was pregnant on November 1st and learned that my baby would arrive sometime around July 9th. With the exception of one friend who is sharing a due date with me, I could line up all of my fellow moms-to-be on a continuum based on when their babies are expected to arrive. As time has passed, there have been women before me and women behind me. “Like being on an escalator,” I told Patrick.
Time moves without stopping, just as an escalator does. Inevitably, some of my friends with due dates before mine, have reached the top and exited into a beautiful new life, their babies nestled in their arms. As I move up on the escalator, I get closer to the top and look over my shoulder to find more friends filing in behind me, their bellies growing in time with the incline.
One of these days, I will reach the top and there will be no one else in front of me. Then, it will be my time to step off of this ride and take my daughter, Teagan, in my arms. I can’t wait to explore the next level, but I’m a little nervous. What if something bad happens? Suppose I fall or get stuck? What if the escalator stops and ceases forward progress? (At 38 weeks, it feels like this sometimes.)
Then, I remind myself to trust in God. He is in control of that escalator. He knows when and how I will get off of it. He knows what awaits me on the second floor. He is always good.
The final weeks of this ascending journey are the hardest. (Sometimes I feel like I’m on the never-ending escalator at Camden Yards.) This is my fourth time here, but it doesn’t make it easy. I do, however, have some coping strategies that have helped me in the past and are providing me peace now as I wait:
3. Stay busy. It’s summer, so I’m off from teaching, but I’m trying to get into work one day a week to clean and organize for next school year. I’ve also planned fun activities for myself and the boys, like a visit to an “escape room” with some old friends and a trip to the movies with Collin and his godparents to see Finding Dory. I even had an artist friend paint a giant, rosy teapot on my belly. I try to have at least one small activity to look forward to each day.
5. Snowballs. Right after I told Patrick about my escalator analogy, we visited the Emmorton snowball stand where I ran into a former student who was rapidly approaching her due date. We talk online regularly and have both agreed that a Styrofoam cup of ice drenched in sugary syrup is exactly what we need to cool us down – body and mind. I couldn’t help but think about the irony of her waiting in the long line before me, both of us eagerly awaiting the moment we finally embraced our icy treat. I watched longingly as she received her snowball, indulging in that first taste of sweetness. I was anxious to meet my own frosty bundle. Before I knew it, I was back in the car, savoring every spoonful of my new arrival.
A few days later, my student had her baby, an adorable little boy named Theo.
That meant there were only two women I knew before me, waiting just a few more weeks – or even days -- to get off the escalator. One delivered a healthy boy three days ago. The other and I are eager for July 9th-ish to meet our fourth babies.
Hopefully by next week, I’ll be writing about meeting my daughter for the first time, but if not, I’ll be trusting God to get me there safe, sound, and soon…and consuming my fair share of snowballs!
June 27, 2016 02:34
By Robyn Barberry
In a few short weeks, I will meet my daughter for the first time. I’ve spent the past three months trying to wrap my head around what it’s going to be like to parent a girl, seeing as how I’ve been raising three boys up until this point.
I was worried about things like braiding her hair and when to let her get her ears pierced until the story of the Stanford rape case took over my Facebook newsfeed. Brock Turner, a Stanford University swimmer, received a six-month sentence for raping a woman in January 2015 after a campus party. The sentence could have been up to 14 years, but the judge decided that a long, harsh sentence would have “a severe impact” on him.
I took the time to read the victim’s statement
. It is one of the most harrowing things I have ever read. Her words and the vivid pictures they form haunt me.
She could be my daughter. He could be one of my sons.
What, if anything, can I do to prevent my children from finding themselves on either end of a situation like this? What should I tell my sons? What should I tell my daughter?
I read what some of my friends were saying on Facebook. Many of my friends are teachers, writers and parents, like myself, but scrolling down my news feed is like looking through a kaleidoscope of opinions from the left, the right, and everywhere in between. I decided to take a risk and bring them all together on my page and asked “What should I be teaching my sons about respecting women and their bodies? What should I be teaching my daughter about protecting herself? Where does our role begin and end here?”
I was overwhelmed by the intelligent and prudent responses from my friends, some of whom include a school psychologist, a military sexual-assault prevention-and-response coordinator, a foster parent and a sex abuse survivor. Though their perspectives varied, all responded with the same message: What happened in Stanford is NOT okay. We all have to prepare our children for life in a time and place where “rape culture” exists. We all want to change that. We all know that it starts with us. The only issue is that we all disagree on what to teach our kids about rape prevention.
There was no consensus when it comes to the notion of consent. A friend pointed out that he and his wife have taught their daughter that if she doesn’t want to hug someone, she doesn’t have to (even if it’s “Great Aunt Marge.”) Some people disagree and think that withholding acts of affection will cause a child to become insensitive and cold. Several friends shared this tongue-in-cheek British video
using “making tea” for someone as an analogy for sexual consent.
The discussion of revealing clothing and excessive alcohol consumption turned up with staunch supporters on each camp. Some believed that dressing and drinking conservatively are crucial shields women can use to deter rapists. Others said that we shouldn’t have to teach girls to protect themselves; rather, it’s the boys who needed to be taught to respect women.
I’ve come to the conclusion that we shouldn’t be just educating our daughters or just educating our sons. They both need to hear messages catered to their genders’ needs as well as universal messages that apply to all people of all ages. The key is delivery.
My school psychologist friend said that we need to be careful about talking with kids at their current level. Allowing little ones like my own to “choose” to give and receive hugs while telling them they should never feel uncomfortable when touching another person, is a good place to start.
A fellow teacher said she encourages her middle school students to think about whether they’re “helping” someone or “hurting” someone in every encounter.
A high school librarian said she believes more attention needs to be paid to "developing a clear understanding of what sexual assault is, particularly for boys and the consequences.” She offered two book titles for me to read (and I will!) about raising boys to be responsible men who treat women properly, "Season of Life" by Joe Ehrmann (a former Baltimore Colt) and Modern Romance by Aziz Ansari. Her students are at the prime time for that conversation, perhaps through the Green Dot
program that is being used to educate students about sexual assault in high schools.
Here’s what I decided to tell my kids while they’re under my watch:
- Our family is Catholic. Not every family is like ours, and that’s okay. But we will share our values with you.
- We believe that our bodies are a gift from God. It’s up to us to take good care of them with healthy food, exercise, and safe contact with other bodies. (That also means stop hitting each other!)
- Our faith teaches us that the best thing to do is to wait until we’re married to have sex. It keeps us healthy, saves us from a lot of heartache, adds depth to our marriages, can make parenting easier, and makes God happy.
- Since we’re all born sinners, that doesn’t always happen. When it comes to sex, we have the choice to obey God or to do as we will. But, sometimes someone else makes that decision for us by forcing their body on ours. This is called rape and it is NOT YOUR FAULT. It makes you feel bad about yourself, but you did nothing wrong. And because of that, this is something that you would never do to someone else.
- You are more than just your body. You are your mind and your spirit. Your relationships with others should reflect all of those things.
- You are biologically more vulnerable than your male counterparts. You’re smaller than most men. You probably have less muscle tone. Your private parts go in, not out.
- Sometimes clothing matters. You don’t wear jeans to a job interview because your prospective employer will think you don’t take them (or yourself) seriously, no matter how nice or smart you are. In a similar fashion, the more skin you show, the more attention you’ll receive. Whether you intend it to be or not, some men see this as an invitation to touch your body. Be prepared to respond accordingly.
- Male sexual predators do exist and it seems like certain situations make them more likely to attack, like if they see you alone in an isolated area. Stay as safe and in control as you can everywhere you go. If you start to feel uncomfortable, GET OUT. Make an excuse. Call someone. Walk away. Run if you have to.
- Rape can’t always be avoided or prevented. Sometimes it’s not about alcohol or short skirts or walking alone or flirting. The Stanford victim wore a beige cardigan to the party where she was raped. Even if those are factors, they are NEVER excuses for a man to force himself upon a woman.
- You should NEVER be blamed if your body is violated against your will.
- Not all men are bad. In fact, most of them are good, like your brothers, father, uncles, and grandfathers. Sure there are “bad guys,” but the entire male population isn’t out to get you.
- Sexual assault can happen to you, too. If someone touches you anywhere, and it makes you feel uncomfortable, you need to tell someone.
- If a woman is wearing revealing clothing, it does not automatically mean she is making herself available to you.
- Women are not objects. The sex industry wants you to believe that, but it’s not true. Women are people with feelings, not just bodies to be used for your pleasure.
- Many women are also sisters, mothers, aunts, and grandmothers like your own. Think of how much you love us when you see them. Chances are someone loves them, too.
- Treat people and all living things with respect and dignity.
- Don’t touch anyone without their permission. Likewise, no one should touch you without your permission. (Including rude people in the grocery store who poked you when you were in my belly.)
- Socialize responsibly. Surround yourself with friends. Never take an eye off your drink. Know when you’ve had enough. Know when someone else has had enough. Call if you need us to come get you. No questions asked.
- “No means no” at any point of a conversation. If you hear the word “no,” that means your plans must change at that moment. Remove yourself from the situation if at all possible.
- If someone violates you after you have told them “no,” it’s not your fault; it’s theirs.
- If something happens to you that makes you feel violated, tell someone. A friend, a guidance counselor, the police, anyone who can help. But, we’d hope you would come to us first. It is NOT YOUR FAULT. Let us help you.
- If you violate another human being in any way, you will be punished. If not by the fullest extent of the law (which we would encourage), then by us and by God. We will never stop loving you, but we will not stand up for you. We will not stand beside you. We will not stand by you. We raised you better than that.
As of right now, that’s my road map for getting through the tough conversations I have ahead with my sons and daughter. Some of those seeds need to be planted now when my children still think I’m a celebrity and others are lines that will take me several years to memorize before delivering them to an audience of eye-rolling adolescents who think I’m an embarrassment. (At the very least, they can check my blog archive and pull this up as a reference when they’re away at college.)
Not all parents raise their children like my friends and I are raising ours. Unfortunately it will take a very long time before every man in the world knows that a woman’s body is hers and not his for the taking, no matter what she’s wearing or what she’s had to drink or what she said earlier that night before she changed her mind. We may never reach that point. But we can try. And it starts by talking to our girls AND our boys, early and often.
June 13, 2016 10:22
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By Robyn Barberry