FCR 04: The Queen can go as far as she wants
a blast from The Agenda's past because blogs are forever
Hi misfit fam,
Today’s issue of The Unwed Mother Agenda is a blast from the past. Years ago, when I was still a middle school teacher and Teenager Leong was still Little Kid Leong, I had a blog. It was called…wait for it…The Unwed Mother Agenda.
Today’s post is a 2014 entry from that blog.
When I first started the original UMA, I was very single, very unwed. And I loved that blog. It was a period of my life when my time was spent nearly exclusively with a first grader, tween students, and family court officials.
Because of my limited circle, that blog felt like a lifeline to adults who cared about me and my kid. It was also a lifeline to the larger world outside of my basement apartment, my classroom, and courtrooms.
I decided to take down the original UMA after this essay shined a spotlight on it throughout my school community. I’m grateful not only to be breathing life back into The Agenda today, but also to still have that original record of that liminal time.
The entry below was written after my first day back teaching following multiple long days in court fighting for protections for my son. There had been a small legal win—one that wouldn’t last, but would give me and my baby a bit of safety for the moment, some hope.
Originally published on The Unwed Mother Agenda blog, October 1, 2014:
Clapping & Crying
I’ve missed a couple days of school while I played battle mom.
I was so distracted and under-caffeinated when I returned to work today. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want my son to be at school either. I just wanted both of us home watching Netflix and eating cookies in bed, me unsuccessfully trying to get out of another game of chess, him trying to not to get annoyed when he has to remind me again that the King can only move one space at a time. The Queen, he keeps trying to drill into me, is the one who can go as far as she wants. The Queen, mom, the Queen. As long as there’s a path. As far as she wants. Check.
But then my first class of students started filing in, peaking around the corner as they entered to see if there was a sub again.
Of course, they were just as on point as I had left them—no having to “reset expectations” after two sub days in a row with this class—all of them shuffling in expectantly, then opening their comp notebooks, then reading the board and taking our their notes as posted in my directions.
As usual per our routine, it’s about five minutes into class before I address them. Welcome to Humanities, like I always say, feeling like such a teacher, even though I’ve been doing this exact same intro song and dance for the last three years at this school. I love our quiet hellos every time.
And then what did they do? Those little 6th graders with their notes out all sitting in rows?? They started to clap. Softly at first. But then it grew into full blown applause. Welcome back, Ms. Leong!
And right there in the middle of my classroom after the last month in my lawyer’s office, in court all day yesterday until I was so hungry and drained that I at one point I couldn’t tell if what was about to explode out of me was going to be laugher or tears or full blown uncensored nothing. Yes, after all that yesterday, and then this today—a classroom full of eleven-year-olds clapping for their teacher’s return, waiting to start our lesson.
And I had to hold my breath and take it in for a second because I thought I could fall down weeping right there in the glare of my Smartboard, a black Expo pen gripped so tightly in one hand because, dear God, I just needed something to hold onto for a sec while I felt all of this.
These kids, not asking where I’d been, just clapping and smiling at me, my son secure in his own classroom down the street, that signed Commissioner’s order like a little security blanket scanned and emailed out to all the people who help build the flimsy yet crucial little fort around us. Yes, all of this, nearly knocking me over with what felt just for a moment like love.
Take some notes with me now, we’re going to talk about the Hero’s Journey today…
And this is my life right now. It’s a good life. Filled with so many weird and wonderful kids. My own child safe with me full-time now for over a year and that feels exactly how things should be.
But it’s tiring. And expensive. And I feel like crying all the time, just walking down the halls of the school or our apartment, just crying a little inside pretty much constantly.
Not because I’m sad.
Just because finally I can see the path and I’m moving, more than just one space at a time, thinking so many moves ahead of myself, moving forward with little protections and distractions all around me and my boy, and it’s mostly good, mostly possible, and there is so much love and support at last, and it’s like finally finally finally I can let some of this out. ⬛
📱 Did you miss last week’s UMA post? Here it is: Violence beyond the body: How coercive control laws are redefining domestic abuse
Everyone deserves to be safe. If you or someone you care about is experiencing domestic violence, you can find free and confidential help and resources through The National Domestic Violence Hotline. Call 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or text “START” to 88788.