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Guest
[Just sharing my experience here with my Catholic online family]
Think General Sherman was the scariest moment for Atlanta? Think again!
At 11:00pm Tuesday night, I was sitting with seven other stranded staff members at a psycho/Ed facility that serves students from 8 years of age to 22 year olds. The diagnosis ranges from various levels of autism to emotional behavior disorder and schizophrenia. A day time facility, we are the last stop for a student in the public system. The idea is to improve behaviors and get students back into a least restrictive environment. I think we do a pretty remarkable job considering the pay, the danger, and what we have to work with on an ever declining budget, riddled with resource drains and furlough days.
The local news affiliate was flashing on the promethean board, showing images of school buses, tractor trailers, and commuters sliding around on an ice covered, clogged interstate and highway system, littered with stranded people and abandoned cars. It had been quite a day safely getting our students out of the school onto the buses and the road. I was tired. The Governor and the Mayer of Atlanta, had just finished with a news conference, and were now accepting insults from the media.
Really, we were the lucky ones, I knew. After eating our meal that we were lucky enough to get from a nearby Waffle House, that looked more like a refugee camp than breakfast place, I silently said a prayer for millions trying to get home, who might not be as fortunate as we were.
When I converted to Catholicism, part of my instruction suggested reviewing each day at it’s conclusion, meditating what we did right and wrong, along with praying for the strength and wisdom to do a better job of it. I was not exactly sure how to judge my day. While I preformed all my functions in a bad situation grace and professionalism, when the job part was done I ran into some uncharitable reactions from my Principal. “Blue moon Pizza on me, my treat! Great idea,” my director who made a stop by our school on her attempt to get home, chimed in.
To our chagrin, Blue Moon Pizza was closed, due to weather. We began talking about what to do. No problem for the Principal who in her words could “comfortably sleep six.” I had just received approval from my Director to transfer to another facility, doused with recommendations that my Principal was unable to unravel, which she tries to do to everyone who attempts to leave, for reasons only she knows.
None the less, I thought about her fireplace, her excellent taste in red wine, and most of all, a comfortable bed. No one had yet accepted her shelter invite, so in a private moment, I told her that I would come. She smiled at me and shook her head no… Whatever charity I had left immediately slid down the icy, snow covered drive onto the gridlocked street below.
I immediately share my thoughts on this with the Director, [who also got snubbed] the staff, and if I could have, I would have walked down to the road and told strangers in the night how I felt about it too.
We were safe, fed, warm and sleeping in beanbag chairs, better off than many, yet I still furious over the “betrayal” of my principal. Charity also went out the window the next day in the form of broken promises made by this person to that one, in the form of “you can come with me, I will drop you off at home.” Again I was perturbed. The remaining three of us finally took the plunge on our own and made it back safely.
I am still not sure how to put this all in perspective. There was good will and charity, and charity gone bad. There is a message here, good and bad, happy and sad. What do you think of it? I am mainly sharing my thoughts here. Please comment if you feel so inclined, otherwise, stay safe and warm and walk with God!
[BIBLEDRB][/BIBLEDRB]
Think General Sherman was the scariest moment for Atlanta? Think again!
At 11:00pm Tuesday night, I was sitting with seven other stranded staff members at a psycho/Ed facility that serves students from 8 years of age to 22 year olds. The diagnosis ranges from various levels of autism to emotional behavior disorder and schizophrenia. A day time facility, we are the last stop for a student in the public system. The idea is to improve behaviors and get students back into a least restrictive environment. I think we do a pretty remarkable job considering the pay, the danger, and what we have to work with on an ever declining budget, riddled with resource drains and furlough days.
The local news affiliate was flashing on the promethean board, showing images of school buses, tractor trailers, and commuters sliding around on an ice covered, clogged interstate and highway system, littered with stranded people and abandoned cars. It had been quite a day safely getting our students out of the school onto the buses and the road. I was tired. The Governor and the Mayer of Atlanta, had just finished with a news conference, and were now accepting insults from the media.
Really, we were the lucky ones, I knew. After eating our meal that we were lucky enough to get from a nearby Waffle House, that looked more like a refugee camp than breakfast place, I silently said a prayer for millions trying to get home, who might not be as fortunate as we were.
When I converted to Catholicism, part of my instruction suggested reviewing each day at it’s conclusion, meditating what we did right and wrong, along with praying for the strength and wisdom to do a better job of it. I was not exactly sure how to judge my day. While I preformed all my functions in a bad situation grace and professionalism, when the job part was done I ran into some uncharitable reactions from my Principal. “Blue moon Pizza on me, my treat! Great idea,” my director who made a stop by our school on her attempt to get home, chimed in.
To our chagrin, Blue Moon Pizza was closed, due to weather. We began talking about what to do. No problem for the Principal who in her words could “comfortably sleep six.” I had just received approval from my Director to transfer to another facility, doused with recommendations that my Principal was unable to unravel, which she tries to do to everyone who attempts to leave, for reasons only she knows.
None the less, I thought about her fireplace, her excellent taste in red wine, and most of all, a comfortable bed. No one had yet accepted her shelter invite, so in a private moment, I told her that I would come. She smiled at me and shook her head no… Whatever charity I had left immediately slid down the icy, snow covered drive onto the gridlocked street below.
I immediately share my thoughts on this with the Director, [who also got snubbed] the staff, and if I could have, I would have walked down to the road and told strangers in the night how I felt about it too.
We were safe, fed, warm and sleeping in beanbag chairs, better off than many, yet I still furious over the “betrayal” of my principal. Charity also went out the window the next day in the form of broken promises made by this person to that one, in the form of “you can come with me, I will drop you off at home.” Again I was perturbed. The remaining three of us finally took the plunge on our own and made it back safely.
I am still not sure how to put this all in perspective. There was good will and charity, and charity gone bad. There is a message here, good and bad, happy and sad. What do you think of it? I am mainly sharing my thoughts here. Please comment if you feel so inclined, otherwise, stay safe and warm and walk with God!
[BIBLEDRB][/BIBLEDRB]