Not a Wasted Word

I’m thinking of sending this out to the listserv of all the PTA presidents in San Francisco, but I wanted to get your take on it first. My readers always give me such thoughtful and insightful feedback; I know I’d be less nervous sending it if you all had read and responded first.

My name is (Noemi) and I am the PTA president at (daughter’s school) in Bernal Heights. We are a small PTA, with a board of only 6 people. We struggle every year to replace the officers that term out. Only 2-5 general members come to our meetings, and only very rarely are teachers or administrators able to attend.

(Daughter’s school) is a Tier 3 school. 75% of our student population qualifies for free or reduced lunch. The majority of our families speak English as a second language, if at all. Many of our students face generational poverty and/or other trauma at home. Some have significant behavioral challenges. Test scores confirm that our students are struggling significantly to perform at grade level, and that they need increased scaffolding and support to succeed. Teacher retention is also a very real challenge, as some leave because of student behavior issues and a perceived lack of support; there are currently multiple openings for full time teachers at our school. We’ve had three new administrations in the last three years.

As you can imagine, as a PTA we struggle to raise funds to support our teachers and students. While nearby schools with comparable student populations raise $25K or $75K, we haven’t raised $10K in either of the last two years.

I doubt anyone would argue that SFUSD’s public school system is broken. The city espouses equality of access and yet its school system provides the opposite. The affluent, well educated parents who do send their kids to SFUSD cluster at certain high demand schools, where they raise incredible amounts of money to provide enrichment programs that make their schools even more desirable, perpetuating the cycle.

When I was navigating the SFUSD lottery, Spanish Immersion programs were our focus. While I knew which SI schools were most popular, I didn’t know that the amount a school PTA raises every year is public knowledge and that families use that to rank their choices. I also didn’t realize that some schools in this district raise over $350K while others struggle to raise 1/100th of that amount.

I live in the city, but am a public school teacher at a affluent, highly desirable school district on the peninsula. I could have brought my daughter to a school in that district, but diversity is important to us, and we believe that well educated parents need to opt-in at SFUSD for real change to take place. We are being the change that we want to see, but it’s increasingly evident that the system is even more broken that we originally recognized.

The PTA is supposed to advocate for every student, but in San Francisco I can’t help be wonder if it’s actually helping perpetuate the cycle of haves and have not’s, deepening the discrepancies between the most desired schools, where affluent parents cluster, and the least desired schools, where minority students are left to languish. I wonder if it is helping create and maintain a system where those who have the resources to call for change are satisfied by the status quo and do not fight to affect change for those left at the schools where sufficient funds cannot be raised. Of course I recognize it’s not the intention of the PTA to maintain the considerable discrepancies between the most and least desired schools in the district, but if it is doing that, we need to recognize the reality and have some honest conversations about what it means.

I’m not writing this to call anyone out, but instead to start a conversation. It is not PTA’s job to fix the considerable failures of SFUSD, but if the PTA remains the only real way for parents to raise funds to support schools, and the amounts schools raise remain vastly different, we need to talk about what that means for ALL students. I look forward to hearing your perspective.

What do you think readers? Am I totally off here? Am I missing the mark? Obviously I don’t know what the solution is, but have I accurately identified a problem? How do you think other PTA presidents (some of whom are at the very schools I’m mentioning) will react?

Thank you all for making me feel less alone after yesterday’s post. I found myself nodding my head at each comment, because I have, or still do, feel all those things. I guess I just have to accept that growing up watching my mother lose babies, losing my own sister (even though I was young), having my own loss and then secondary infertility, and probably even dealing with these lingering physical issues after birth, are going to make the arrival of babies, even into the periphery of my life, complicated.

I’m sick right now with a brutal cold. Some years I skate by without getting much and other years I seem to get every major virus that makes the rounds. Unfortunately this year is turning out to the the latter. I just wish I had this awful virus last week when I had time to rest.

Having said that, I clearly didn’t rest enough because my healing is not going as hoped. I saw my doctor on Friday and she was frustrated to see that all my sutures, even the internal ones, had popped. I was not put on Colace quickly enough and, well, I think you can figure it out from there. She still thinks I will eventually heal and will “love my new vagina” but I am not as hopeful.

The Botox shots that were meant to relax my traumatized muscles, seem to have worsened my prolapse, which is now so advanced that my cervix basically rests on my newly forming scar tissues all day. My doctor didn’t realize this because when I lie down (like I do when she examines me) it pulls up an inch or so, and it took me a while to realize that was what was causing the incredible pressure and discomfort, especially after I went back to work and was on my feet more. The problem is that the way to alleviate the problem (putting in a pessary), will definitely hurt my hopefully healing scar tissue. Let’s just say it’s not healing as hoped, and now I may have to get another surgery I hoped to avoid.

Putting my house on AirBnB is, perhaps not surprisingly, a way more complicated process than I expected. We have to register with the city as a business and file special papers with the tax board. I’m not sure if I’m even supposed to list the place before I take these steps, and if I have to wait it may be too late to find someone for the lengths of time we were hoping to rent it. I have gotten pictures of half of the rooms, but the work I have to do to get a decent shot is making me very aware of how much more I need to do for the house to actually be ready for guests. I honestly might not be able to pull this off…

And the stress of trying to do everything is messing with my marriage. Blerg.

Things are not great right now. I know they will get better, but at the moment I’m feeling down and out. I wish I hadn’t gotten this surgery. I wish I weren’t so organizationally challenged. And I wish I weren’t such a complicated, emotional, mess.

I also wish I didn’t have this $#{%€ cold.

The procedure went well. At least I think it did. I was super out of it when my doctor debriefed me at the end.

I’ve been trying really hard to take it easy. The point of this procedure was to remove non-healing tissue and I’m supposed to be giving what’s left every opportunity to heal. But it’s hard. I have two young kids and staying in bed all day for a week is absolutely not in the cards for me. I worry I’m overdoing it and the whole procedure will have been for naught.

It doesn’t help that I have so much going on. It seems like all these big projects in my life require immense pushes in effort right now. It was probably a mistake to schedule this thing for this month, but I suppose there is never a convenient time to be convalescing.

My husband came back last night, and that should help. My mom is coming today to help me around the house and that should help as well. Friday I have a follow up appointment with my doctor and I’m anxious to hear what she has to say.

I really hope this worked. Right now I’m fighting the fear that it will all end up being a waste of time, and I’ll be left on the other side with the same chronic pain and no remaining avenues for resolution.

Tomorrow I’m having a procedure done that is supposed to resolve the scar tissue that never healed properly after my first vaginal birth resulted in a third degree tear.

I’m calling it a procedure. My doctor, and the hospital, are calling it a surgery. I will be put under, but might not have to be intubated.

I’ve never been put under before. Not when I had all four of my impacted wisdom teeth removed. Not when they filed off the roots of my toenails in the hopes of preventing chronic in-grown toenails. There is definitely a part of me that wonders why excising a small amount of skin, and giving me a shot of Botox, requires putting me under but I’m going to trust my doctor on this one.

I am nervous. More nervous than I thought I’d be. I’ve been kind of wreck all week. I’m nervous to be put under, for any complications that might arise from the anesthesia. I’m worried I’ll feel sick afterward. I’m dreading not being able to work out for 2-4 weeks (working out is how I manage my anxiety). But mostly I’m terrified that this won’t work, that my chronically painful scar tissue, which reopens and bleeds every time I have sex, will still cause me pain and that I won’t have any more options. Or hope.

I’ve been reading, for the first time, mainstream articles in big publications about pain during sex. I’m glad they are finally being written, circulated, and read. There is almost no conversation around the lasting effects vaginal births can have on a woman’s body, even when they are successful and free of complications. I have prolapse and unresolved scar tissue and both effect of my life daily. The physical ramifications of my two vaginal births are constants in my life. They never went away. And now I’m hoping to resolve one, but I’m not sure it will work.

We put vaginal birth up on a pedestal and never talk about the possible long-term consequences, beyond poking fun at maybe peeing a little when you sneeze.

But I will tell you that chronic pain during sex is nothing to sneeze at. It sucks. And it may never go away.

I’m really hoping, that after tomorrow, it eventually will.