Layers

2007-11-04T10:06:00.001-06:00

It's truly been a while since I've jumped on to blog myself, although I've been actively watching the blog world. In the meantime, school is obviously in full swing along with life. I'm getting ready to start working with the Project to End Human Trafficking. I'm aching for Northern Minnesota, which is a surprise for me. Scout, the wonderful dog, is more and more wonderful every day. Hopkins courses are such a waste of time right now - who knew grad courses could be so ridiculous at such a supposedly good institution. I literally had a prof read handouts to us for an entire two hour block. Who does that? I can't stand my bosses on most days, but the kids are fabulous and crazy. My students are producing student journalism with a higher level of fierceness than before. Although, I must say, it's been an exhausting emotional year with the kids. They know such sadness and pain, and they're ready to share the moment they walk in to my room. I can't even tell you how many kids I've had crying in my classroom with me about the shit that happens to them when they leave my room. I've been throwing these situations around a lot after seeing Gone Baby Gone. After some friends and I left the theater, we were over stimulated and morally overwhelmed. Maybe it resonates with us more because we fight for our children every day that aren't really our children, and we don't know how to handle that boundary when it comes to their needs. However, in the end, if you truly take the movie up on all it has to offer, it is dumbfounding. No promises on more frequent updates or even better quality, but hello, here's a snapshot of now.

that thing with kids

2007-09-02T08:52:00.000-05:00

School started, Hopkins and my own kiddos. So far, the bitterness for not getting to have control over my own career path is fading. It's not healthy to hang on to that stuff, so I'm letting it go. Hence my willingness to help out with the restructuring committee. Why not?

This is year three of teaching, year four if you count RL student teaching, year 40 if you count the chaos of that student teaching year. We have a lot of new teachers at my school, and I can't help but to want to coddle them. They are panicked and feeling defeated. It's such a horrible but strengthening process, that first year. Even last year was troubling in Baltimore since it was a new school, but all of the emotions that come with starting in this field, particularly in schools with chaotic infrastructure, had dissipated. It's good to be here a second year, even though it wasn't my original choice. I appreciate the continuity, and I feel better knowing I'm with a couple of students that I was particularly concerned about. Like my little guy who is a junior and read at a second grade level.

The Wilson reading teacher and I are breaking some rules together. He gets a lot of thinking skills out of my class. I'm always pushing them to be analytical about the way the media is controlling their minds, but in the end, he won't go to college (like HE WANTS) if he can't read. So, unofficially, he's going to be in my class part time, and go to her class the other part. I'm going to grade him for the work he does in there. I didn't think she'd go for it, because I totally judged her as an non-invested, jaded, educator. She's not. Fuck me.

My other kiddo won't stop wearing his flag. I'm the official crime scene recorder in my school. Seriously, they send me everywhere at the most awkward times (like in the middle of my instruction) to take picture of weapons and graffiti. I noticed his crew had scribbled their reps on the wall. Thank god this kid is brilliant. He's going to hand that flag over to me each morning so he doesn't repeat last year's long term suspension. He might be one of the kids that will break me.

In other news, I have a new department head. She is wonderful. We had a departmental meeting where there was no conflict, just a meeting of the minds. She did what few can do: take administrative demands and make them applicable instead of ridiculous and offered to at least try to negotiate with administration for the few demands that really seemed strange. She is already checking lesson plans after only one week of teaching. And I have to create three plans a day! That is crazy. Kind of overwhelming. However, I appreciate her holding us accountable in a way that embraces student success and not a power-hungry-drive that is purely for the sake of itself.

Now I get to do the thing that revs me, lesson plan. As I've said before. This is such a renewing process. Anything is possible when I take a moment to breathe and think. I can soulfully say that I'm not scared of failing in my classroom. It's okay to think big and for it to not work. I will risk.

Being home

2007-08-15T12:14:00.000-05:00

The visit home has flown by at a ridiculous rate. My little vacation to Minnesota has turned out to be a big money drain, and I was so driven to not be stressed out by money that I lost a little bit of control along the way. Little things add up. Oh well. It's not like that's the statement of the century. BUT I've had a great time and don't regret it. It looks like I'll just have to be conservative for the next couple of weeks.

I'm stealing this picture from Julie because we look so darn cute!

Last night we spent some time catching up. Jon and Natasha are wonderful - even if they tend to sober the evening with asteroid, global warming realities. We hit up their new apartment for careless conversation. I think I'm a better person for knowing them. Maybe.

Until I move back here one day, I'm not sure that I'll ever get to see all the people I want in anything more than short blasts of conversations and catch up games.

I start the drive back to Baltimore on Friday morning, where I'll make a pit stop in Chicago to see Kamran. That should be entertaining. Although I heard he cut off his Jesus hair. That might change things.

2007-08-10T21:18:00.001-05:00

I didn't get the transfer. Too much unrest at the school I wanted to transfer to, with a principal leaving for another district halfway through the process. He was my advocate and warrior.

dealing with anger

2007-08-08T22:09:00.000-05:00

I am so perturbed by the way my transfer is being dealt with that I found myself practicing what I would say (in the car) on the first day of school to my principal if I didn't get it.

I have no idea what's going to happen, but I'm pretty sure the transfer won't go through. I just haven't heard anything and the pessimism is growing.

The job I want won't be there after next year, and I will no longer be able to teach in the program at the school that's holding me hostage. Basically, this means being a Baltimore teacher is up in the air for year three. I wanted to stay here too, this sucks.

I'm probably getting waaaayyyy ahead of myself. So this entry is me blabbling and moving on for the sake of enjoying the rest of my real vacation time at home.

This is awkward

2007-08-07T22:06:00.001-05:00

but I think I like it...

Scout can still hike

2007-07-24T18:53:00.001-05:00

After the poisoning incident, Scout seems to be just fine. When the normal wear of a Monday was over, we went on a rejuvenating hike on Gunpowder. There is just something so calming about watching this little guy explore the trail. I drop the leash and let him have at it. He doesn't go far from me, and I'm starting to get a little nervous by this bond that I'm forming with him. I grew up with animals, adored them. But this little guy is mine, solely. It's been pretty amazing watching him grow up and learning all of those little things like using the stairs, swimming, housebreaking even. He even has a manly bark. I think it makes sense that I enjoy this so much, since I dig my day job.

Which brings me to that. Teaching is going wonderfully. I have my footing, figure out the 30 minute lessons. Our scholars are freakin' incredible. They've been opening themselves up to a whole new way of existing and some are meeting this with immediate success. Others need some time and our, the staff's, persistence. It's just amazing, every morning, to have an administrator face all of our students in complete silence. He has silence because he's that good. He can tell these wiggly 9th graders a straight story. He harps on them, gets frustrated, and loud. Two seconds later, a smile stretches his face and he's pointing at them and saying, "but we aren't giving up on you. You can do this. THIS IS IMPORTANT. THIS IS SO IMPORTANT." It's just going to take time for kids who are used to failing and being failed to move the other direction, but some are latching on and they're slowly pulling everyone else over as well.

The transfer to this school is static at this point. I'm unhappy with the union's attention to this issue that's affecting the placement of many teachers, but I just don't have it in me to give my time to helping create a solution to the union's kinks. I can't imagine being a leader in the union and how hard, overwhelming that may be, but it needs to be better. My heart's just not in tackling that problem. Rather, I'm helping out a Hopkins prof with a nonprofit that works to end human trafficking. I'll be putting in anywhere from 10-20 hours from now on. I have to say, I really miss this part of my life, you know where I volunteered and was a social advocate for people. Can't wait.

Angela

2007-07-22T09:21:00.000-05:00

I live in East Baltimore, really just its beginnings. While my street has its fair share of violence and drugs in their many forms, my roommate and I have had a good experience being in this neighborhood. I'd say it is still good, even after last night.

One of our neighbors, Angela, always tries to yell at Heather and I when we bring our trash out before the actual trash days. Whatever. It's our can, we can fill it. She has a mental health disorder, that much is obvious. She is always well-meaning, and who can dislike someone who wishes me happy birthday every time I meet her again for "the first time?"

Yesterday I went to throw dirty litter in the trash can and she approached me, inevitably asking me to not put my trash out yet. I skirted around it, and she started telling me about how much they try to keep the trash cans cleaned up. She does. She does it well. I asked her if it was because of the rats; I've noticed they have open wounds and sores and thought them diseased. With a look of pride she told me about how she was taking matters into her own hands and was setting out poison. Now it made sense.

I left and did my day.

Then my night did me.

I was cooking dinner, let Scout out, chopped an onion, let him in. He came in, happy as hell, and was munching on something. I immediately started digging in his mouth, because the rats carry chicken bones into our yard and Scout tries to gnaw on them. I pull out what looks like a puporoni.

Immediately, it occurs to me that this is probably rat poison.

This kills dogs.

Due to the onion, I wasn't sure how much he had. I didn't even really know if it was rat poisoning, but I panicked for two seconds and threw him a bagel. He was really feeling great now. Wow - a whole bagel.

Proceeded to handle the situation in an awkward fashion and called my dad, hardware store extraordinare, who would absolutely be able to confirm my fears. I took a picture, sent it to him, and he gave it a go - my dog was eating poison. In a last ditch effort to not have a poisoned dog on my hands that I LOVE AND AM OBSESSED WITH I walked over to Angela's and showed her what I pulled out of Scout's mouth. She confirmed and then told me it was three times bigger at one time.

I proceeded to drive Scout to 24/7 animal shock trauma center. I called them first, and they riled me up further. So I blasted the Vibe to the hospital. I walked in the door - they took him from me immediately (still looking normal and happy-go-lucky).

$300 later, his stomach was pumped, filled with charcoal, and they injected two softball sized tumors of water into his skin. I left with vitamin K pills that he has to take twice a day for two weeks.

There are two kinds of rat poisoning: blood thinning and some sort of brain failure type. They treated him for the blood thinning form, because there's now way at this point to know if he had the kind that will attack his brain. That doesn't show up for a couple of weeks, you know when I start watching him to see if he changes.

Since the rats had so many sores and wounds, I think he's safe from the brain killing agent, but we just can't know that as 100% true.

His poop is black.

Baltimore is a city

2007-07-18T15:09:00.000-05:00

Since I vacationed in Boston I've started teaching summer orientation at *hopefully* my new school. I have to say, things are going really well. Aside from minor random facts of teaching life (like a 14 year-old girl standing in front of me, with sad eyes, saying that she can't wait to go to the bathroom, and watching a yellow pool form below us), everything is just so normal and right with this school.

I'm struggling with 35 minute periods that aren't on consistent bells. They play jazz music during passing time, and that means someone has to go into the hallway and hit play on the CD player. It's not clockwork, but it's better and calmer - the hallways are more peaceful thanks to the greats. I just don't quite know how to make a meaningful lesson fit in that time frame. I've noticed these last three days that I need to talk less, though.

A wonderful friend visited this past weekend. It was good and calming to see her - and her boyfriend is a good guy. Whew. Good for him, because Scout can tell these types of things and his stay at my house would've been vicious. She and I have the ease and honesty with each other that I want with all my friends, and she's one of the first people to see me at my worst and make that okay. Maybe that's because her parents freakin' rock. They were in town too - love their sense of humor and hospitality.

Okay, I should go. I'm working on doing some justice to history during these next three weeks. I'm starting by making sure my students know who/what/when/where the Native Americans are - and they're letting themselves be upset by the history itself and the way things played out. Oh, and they're learning their states. They don't know them - but they will. Knowing where you are is half the battle, sometimes.

Lifetime teacher?

2007-07-10T23:47:00.000-05:00

Don't know. Funny thing is I used to always know exactly what I wanted to do with my life. Then life happened, more specifically a near-death encounter, and now I don't know what I want anymore - you know in specific professional terms (I suppose small parts of not professional life too).

I love teaching. Love it. Sometimes hate it, but usually love it and all of its ugly. I'm loving my counseling class and wish it didn't end tomorrow. I guess more than anything, the class has just reminded me that there is so much social activism left to do that can be done professionally, and if that ends up always being teaching, fine; at least now I can say that I'm legitimately considering options in general. I've focused so much on doing one thing the best I can these past six years that I've built a sort of tunnel vision.

Good thing I have friends. Check out this weekend's view:

View of White Mountains from Mt. Cardigan's Summit

Me, Kim, and Kerri

Sicko

2007-07-01T11:35:00.001-05:00

Michael Moore is a sexy beast.

He can be a little extreme - okay, a lot extreme. When all was said and done in the theater, I felt a little overwhelmed and inundated with information. I'd like to now take some time to sort through his arguments and sources. In the end, I am with him. Not only is it ridiculous that we don't have universal health care, but for those who do have insurance, how is it that we've not held those institutions ethically accountable?

I mean, really, check out this NYTimes article: Psychiatrists Top List in Drug Maker Gifts.

The film left me pretty disappointed in Hillary Clinton. She lost any potential vote from me after seeing this film. I had no idea she received so many contributions from the same system she fought. And I'll judge her for her early nineteen-nineties silence after her health care plan was defeated. I'll hold the grudge until she tries again.

I was relieved to see that Moore gave air-time to 9/11 rescuers. I can distinctly remember sitting in rush hour traffic on 494 three summers ago and listening to a MN public radio piece about how all of these selfless people were suffering from major respiratory illnesses. Same thing happened with the workers from the Valdez oil spill, but these people are freakishly, consistently untreated. It's sad that, still, nothing has happened to help.

If Moore was perceived as a little less extreme, more people would listen to him. However, if he was less extreme, he wouldn't be exposing every truth.

Vinyasa Yoga

2007-06-29T08:59:00.001-05:00

Last night I checked out a beginner's hot vinyasa class at a studio that overlooks the harbor. Sweat dripped, and it felt good to be alone, searching for peacefulness. The last week has been nurturing. I hit a trail that engulfed me in streams and trees, hit the gym at 5:45ish each morning, and tested out a new yoga studio. Each morning I've been relaxing at different coffee digs working on Hopkins, exploring the internet, n'such. It's just been so nice that I turned down the Starbuck's job and am opting to rely only on my summer orientation teaching for money for the sake of quiet.
I'm heading to Boston next weekend to see a good friend and another is coming to stay with me for the following weekend. I miss both of these ladies, and it'll be wonderful to see them.

What I don't get is why I'm sleeping so poorly. I go to bed exhausted, wake up really earlier, any caffeine in my system should be processed and out by sleeping time...

I'm in it for the kids.

2007-06-21T16:13:00.000-05:00

My principal called me last night and talked to me for over half an hour. "I'm in it for the kids," she continually blurted. Yeah, awesome, me too, stop. It's almost felt like a cover, all too convenient. But I guess I think being in it for the kids is shown through actions and not having to blatantly state it to a teacher who often puts in 90 hour weeks.

I left a pleading letter with her on my last day of work, and it basically took her through why I'm justified moving on. I tried to employ logic, and I even let a little emotion creep in to see if that would work too. I just wanted her to see that my decision making was very deliberate and not something she should take personal. I think my letter hit some sort of emotional chord with her. She cares very much about her image as a principal, and she interpreted my letter as me having a negative one of her. It wasn't really about her at all, but that's what happens when narcissistic people deal with other narcissistic people.

After a lot of her being passive-aggressive and scolding me for things that couldn't be prevented (how am I supposed to tell her I want to leave before I knew I wanted to leave? seriously), she mostly came out of the talk as supportive of the transfer. She told me that she's doing everything she can to find a good person to replace me, and as soon as she finds someone she'll release me. I feel good about this awkward conversation, because she knows where I stand and there isn't bad blood. As bizarre as she can be, I still mostly like her and firmly believe she's really just doing her best as a first year principal. I'm pretty sure the transfer will go through. It's just a matter of me being patient with the way time inevitably slows itself when working with this district.

Zits

2007-06-18T10:48:00.000-05:00

This weekend was full. I drove to Ohio, six and a half hours of driving from Baltimore, to help the family move my sister into her new apartment. It's a little freaky to think that she's starting grad school. In that same weekend, I left a school that I won't return to and students I will see again but in such a different way. I had a birthday, my mom had a birthday, and we embraced father's day.

Last week was pretty awful. I just really bottomed out. I guess it makes sense, but I was pitiful. Thank god for therapists and good friends and family. Anyway, the summer is looking like it'll be rejuvenating in the end. And as part of that process, I just finished Sherman Alexie's newest Flight. Pretty breezy, easy read. I found it captivating. Raw. Nothing notable literary-wise, but entertaining. And who doesn't want to read a book about an adolescent teenage boy named Zits?

Feist played at the 930 club, and she lived up to the hype. I would've had an amazing time if it wasn't during the bottoming out period, but I was able to appreciate/gawk at/obsess over her talent even if enjoyment wasn't totally in the picture.

Just grabbed this new music: Grow up and Blow Away by Metric / Peter Bjorn & John / matt pond pa / The Cribs.

Besides an interview for a Barista job at this guy's favorite place, I'm going to focus on training Scout, figuring out that guitar, going to the beach, finish my class at Hopkins, working out like a motherfucker, reading da books, etc. It's going to be a great summer, despite mishaps.

Getting Stuff Right

2007-06-10T09:52:00.000-05:00

I'm doing pretty well right now. Considering that life has been crazy, I've just let it be.

On Friday I made my students come to school, because I just wasn't happy with their portfolios. Thursday was supposed to be their last day. I lured them in with chocolate chip, strawberry pancakes with all the fixings. I think it worked. I made them from scratch and used my roommate's griddle right in front of them. They loved. I think I made over a hundred pancakes while they hurriedly finished their radio productions.

I then stopped them for a moment and showed them a short fifteen-minute movie I made for them. It was sort my way of saying goodbye, because I plan to leave my monster school for a hidden jewel in Baltimore City that can crow a staggering 100% college acceptance rate for its seniors. I have no intention of not being part of their lives, however. We're too close to not stay in touch and for me to check up on their college acceptance rates. Besides, if I don't check up on them, how will I ever know if B gets the education he needs to surpass his third grade reading level?

As for the blocked transfer to the charter school, it's still blocked. I'm planning on it going through, because that's better than not. I'm just really frustrated at Baltimore's system.

Baltimore has created this process called zero-base, which essentially means that Principals get to start with zero staff and rebuild their classrooms. Everybody gets fired and has to reapply for their jobs. I can see how it makes sense to get rid of under performing teachers. However, those teachers still end up at another school, if I'm not mistaken. It seems like another band aid and short term solution for what is really a long term problem.

Then there's Aimless. I wasn't really thinking about leaving until I was recruited, basically, to teach at this other school. So I started thinking about what that transition would mean to my career and the long run of what I could do to help bring a positive impact to students. I still wasn't sold on leaving, although I was sold on the effectiveness and amazingness of the charter school. Then my principal made some choices about the program I teach without talking to me about it, and I realized that I couldn't get behind what she wanted me to teach. Basically, she wants to me to reconstruct my academy from its mission of giving kids opportunities to do whatever they want to do by starting with college, and being accepted into many colleges, to gaming. She wants my academy to do one thing: produce students who walk out with a certificate paper showing that they mastered a very specific field. I'm not behind that.

I made the jump. I accepted the offer, because it might not be there in two years when she tries to get this new program off the ground. So even though, I'm being fired and have to reapply, apparently I can't accept a new position. This doesn't make sense, because we were told we could leave if we wanted.

It just seems that if you're going to enact a policy of zero-basing you need to realize that it's a double-edge sword. You might lose staff you don't want to lose in the process. Technically, new teachers are tied to their schools for, I think, two or three years before they can transfer. These rules are supposed to go out the window for zero-based sites.

She's (principal) trying to convince me to stay, and I'm humbled by that, but I don't want to be there if I can be at this other school I BELIEVE IN.

This leaves the transfer up in the air, but I think it'll go through since my new principal (I speak as if it'll happen) is fighting for me. He's actually rebelling against North Avenue. I love this guy. He's everything that's right about leadership. He inspires me. So. Much.

Current Principal is going to be even more angry when she finds out I'm kidnapping a student to come to the charter with me. I went to family orientation this week, and my student and her father are behind this new school.

Another random question:

I went to get my vision test yesterday for my license. Can somebody decode this sentence for me, because the entire staff and I couldn't figure out what to select?

Do you feel your patient would be safe driving in an area limited to familiar surroundings?

the doc selected no - which I thought made me sound like it was unsafe for me to drive in familiar surroundings / so she switched it to yes and put no restrictions above the box. Ahhh!

Graduation

2007-06-03T12:08:00.000-05:00

My school is awkward. Not only did some key teachers work their asses off to make graduation happen, but some administrators did so little work that they undid the worked off asses. Really sad. So many little things, that the kids didn't notice, went wrong. I guess I just want it to be a ceremony of integrity. Oh well. It all ended with an adult pulling a gun in the middle of the lobby during the reception. Nothing happened - besides him just showing it and causing mass pandemonium.

Random Things

2007-06-01T22:43:00.000-05:00

I'm currently reading:

god is not Great by Christopher Hitchens
Teachers Have it Easy: The Big Sacrifices and Small Salaries of America's Teachers by Daniel Moulthrop, Ninive Clements Calegari, and Dave Eggers
Flight by Sherman Alexie
A Thousand Splendind Suns by Khaled Hosseini
Traumatic Stress edited by Bessel A. van der Kolk, Alexander C. McFarlane, and Lars Weisaeth

Clearly this is going to take me a while to plow through, especially since I have to brush up on what the Praxis gods consider to be the classics. My masters program requires me to take a test that I don't need since my MN license transfered. I can't help but to read several books at once. Maybe it's an issue of stamina???

I started a new class at Hopkins this week. My department is letting me be the guinea pig and take a class out of my program and let it count as an elective for my program. This rocks. The class is an amazing beginning counseling course. I think when I'm done with it, at the end of the day, when that one student lingers, I'll actually know better how to access resources or even just how to listen. My prof is so amazing that on the side, she started a nonprofit that counsels victims of human trafficking all over the world.

Then there's summer money. Ugh. I wish we were paid through the summer, even though it means smaller checks each time. I've got an interview with a summer program that has a pretty solid track record and has a national reputation for moving its summer students ahead significantly, in terms of literacy. The catch is that the program is elementary based, but this includes what I consider to be middle school students. I've got some experience from a few years back with middle school students. Hard to remember anything substantial, besides one lesson, that I accomplished with that age group. I was so fresh out of college I had little knowledge of what I was really doing, I guess I still am pretty fresh out of college and still have a lot to learn (I'm assuming I always will, by the way).

That brings me to tomorrow. My seniors are graduating! For some reason, I'm really excited to put the garbs on and lead them into the stadium and "give them away." This particular bunch has had a pretty dramatic year. An example, one of my students' father died on Monday. Can't even fathom that right now.

And I think we'll end this here, with me staring at these five books, deciding which one to pick up and fling its pages. My 5 am workout is finally catching up (took my first spin class today!), so there might not be much flinging after all.

(By the way, this guy sleeps like a stuffed up, overweight, apnea-plagued, 70 year-old man.)

Happened at my school last year too

2007-05-28T08:03:00.000-05:00

Finally someone recognized them for their lies.

Administrative Chaos

2007-05-27T12:49:00.000-05:00

Okay, check this out.

I was offered a job at a charter school that pretty much is everything I believe in with regards to environment and rigor.

My current school is zero-based, which means that everyone is being fired and will have to reapply for their jobs. They also, apparently, have the option to transfer schools. Usually, in Baltimore, you have to teach at a school for three years straight before you can transfer.

Except, they're not letting me transfer, even though I'm getting fired. I'm not sure why people who do half the amount of work I do, make twice as much, get to decide what next steps I take in my career.

In the meantime, I'm doing frivolous things for my current school that make me want to scrape my eyes out. Like make diplomas, certificates, etc.

I like my current school, but I have more to gain and a better impact moving to this other charter school. Plus the principal there is like the karate kid.

I'm obsessed.

2007-05-20T19:57:00.000-05:00

2007-05-12T10:45:00.000-05:00

Thanks a lot Natasha for tagging me with this stupid meme-thing. Oh well - I'm playing hooky right now anyway.

Start with eight random facts/habits about yourself. Tag eight more people to blog their own eight things.

Here are my random bits:

1. I just discovered that working out at 6:00 am is actually really relaxing. It's so nice to get home from teaching and know that I have the rest of the night for whatever I need and want.

2. My sister graduated from college yesterday, and I couldn't be there.

3. In my first flowerbed the first morning glory bloomed today. The lilies, rosebushes, snapdragons, and begonias have been going strong.

4. We just fling Scout and Jordan's poop into the abandoned yard next door to us. It's really nothing compared to the needles and dirt condoms that can also be found among the poop.

5. I'm skipping a professional development session right now, because my administration signed me up to work without pay on a Saturday without asking me first. Fucka suckas!

6. Fiest is playing at a local club, and I'm going to see her. I like it this way. Seeing people before I know if I like them. It makes more sense. It's why I like Regina Spektor.

7. Summer is nearing. I can't stop squirming. I just keep thinking about sitting out at Merritt's pool drinking box wine from my Nalgene bottle.

8. I want to be hiking. Right now.

My entire blog world has already been tagged.

2007-05-06T09:47:00.000-05:00

I'm finally getting real. With the help of an amazing person, I'm starting this quiet revolution of self. I'm purifying my body, pushing it to newness physically, shedding things that have crawled in, to let dark places crawl out.

I found my first full-blown anxiety attack, but now that it happened, I feel better. I'm understanding parts of myself that I refused to acknowledge. Without this coming, I'd never be Aimless again.

That's not an option.

Being Still

2007-04-28T11:07:00.000-05:00

I'm anxious, all over my body, wondering what the night will bring. How will they be?

What's it going to be like saying goodbye to them again?

---

Seeing some of my RL students in D.C. brought such a sense of stillness that I was missing. There wasn't a single awkward moment. We were jubilant and thankful and calmed on a deep level by each other's presence. No. I'm not reading too much into this. Their firm hugs lasted just long enough to wonder about a lot of things. They wouldn't let go. Completely threw me off.

Not because of a shooting, I swear I don't want that to be why, but there is a connection we have with each other that is rarely defeated. The school we once collaborated at has changed in little ways, but remains the same in most.

And I can honestly say that I've not felt such peace since I've moved to Baltimore as I felt last night with these young wonders. I miss my old classroom and moments and the realness that I let into my classroom, then.

Now, I'm different. I didn't see that until I saw them, and I felt myself again. I'm not sure all the ways in which I've changed, or the layers, but they're present.

I tell people, constantly, that I never will return because I don't want to live in the sticks. I don't tell them about the wind, air, and colors that fiercely compete with the risk of loneliness.

It's funny how about an entire year ago I was desperately trying to figure out how to leave my students behind. After that goodbye, the hardest action ever instigated, I felt more and more okay with the decision. It's still the right choice. I know it. I still talk to them on a fairly regular basis on the phone, we email too, so I didn't just ditch them. We stay connected and invested. Seeing them last night, though, was such a treat.

We at ice cream, Rod ran through a thorn bush trying to show off, we privately talked here-and-there about some serious things that needed to be addressed, we laughed about whatever, and taunted speakers at their program's reception for talking about totem poles. Oh those white people. They'll never get it. They couldn't stop themselves. Each of them had brimming smiles, counting their victories, slowly, waiting for validation. I was validating before they could even finish. We had so much fun.

The stillness was bred from knowing that their teachers are so invested in them. I feel so good about who is working, advocating for their welfare. Then there's just seeing that they're okay. They're doing fine. Oh they have the ugly things in life going after them, but they just keep fighting it all off by trying to make good decisions, learning from the ones that weren't good, and moving forward.

This goodbye was better. I didn't know what the future would bring last year, and now it's still pretty fuzzy. But I know that I'll be driving 312 miles up North this summer, during some two week stint, to see them again. This goodbye was the unfortunate-fortunate kind. Like we all understood each other and our respective lives, but we knew that whatever those lives entail - ours are still intertwined, unspoken and still.

Decisions

2007-04-23T15:04:00.000-05:00

I have a pretty big interview coming up, and I'm not sure whether or not I should take it if I get the job. More on this later.

Lying

2007-04-17T20:49:00.000-05:00

It would be a lie to say that watching the news doesn't trigger intense emotions. Two years later, you'd think one has dealt with the baggage. I guess I've just lied to myself the last two days, saying to myself, that's life people - why are we so shocked?

When really every little part of this whole ordeal is testing my anxiety. My first reaction was (alert - this is intense), How are they going to identify the bodies of the people at a university with so many people? Since their faces are probably blown off, how will people be able to tell? Do people even understand what happens to people who ID bodies belonging to those they once knew? The news is more concerned about getting the first story than the story, we've profiled the killer (funny how we think we can "figure out" people when we all are trying to figure ourselves out in the first place), we've speculated why, we show pictures of people in pain, we talk about each step of the crime, the so-called experts start to appear and tell their lies, and it's only beginning.

We act like we all care, and then we just stop caring and move on. Or maybe we won't this time, because it's a university fueled by money and standard Americans that our country models itself after. When really, people are just scared that it'll be them. We just see mirrors of ourselves in others, and it's why we care during crisis and trauma.

Which is exactly what I am doing here. I care because it hurts me. I'll admit it. Wonder how I'll react tomorrow night in my grad class when it will inevitably come up? I should probably start prepping some meditative state or sit near an exit for a bathroom break.

Do me a favor people, don't pretend like you can even fathom the reasons why mental illness pushes people to these extremes. Few people will every actually understand this, and those people aren't going to be talking to us - the public. Furthermore, nobody will ever know since he killed himself, and every prediction just hurts the victims more. Unless of course you believe in God. That usually takes care of some loose ends.

I think it's enough to know about it - that's it. This is sympathy for others, at least how I see it at this moment. Your talking and discussing won't carry much weight, at least not where it matters for those directly affected.

It's probably very mean and hurtful of me to call out other people's sympathy, but I guess this is me being honest and direct. I've never been one to promote not discussing about anything, but I've felt different lately. Some things are just pointless conversations even though we like to think we're getting somewhere.

Tomorrow and for a little while longer, I'll just lie to people and tell them that I'm "good." I don't want explain why I'm "not good" only to relive/revive a school shooting and every little ounce of pain that follows.

Well, enough off the top of my head babbling for now.

Bahamas

2007-04-10T20:18:00.000-05:00

Thai food and head food

2007-04-05T20:23:00.000-05:00

After talking to one of my RL students last night for almost half an hour, I feel so much more balanced. He called on the perfect night. I'm so proud to have known this kid and all that he's done. Well, ambiguous entry is over because I have to pack for the Bahamas!

Cleansed

2007-04-01T21:47:00.000-05:00

I woke up with an urge to rearrange everything in my bedroom. I unloaded bookcases, dressers, and dug through things looking for other things that can be junked.

Then there was the intense workout with cardio and weights and then less weight as I left, rearranging my body.

The guilt is gone as well, since my juniors came forward admitting they saw previously mentioned student looking at porn. He is guilty, so I need not feel guilty about lacking evidence. They rearranged their thinking by deciding snitching isn't the devil.

A prospective man is on the horizon. He seems so much more like me, or harmonizes with me, better than anyone else I've met. We are equally goofy, you know in that awkward way, where I usually say something so perverse and wrong that everyone squirms. I rearranged the doubt that I needed to be anyone different to see someone. That was stupid.

Then there was the permission-slip enabled kidnapping of one of my favorite students this afternoon. He was accused of bringing a knife to school, so he was suspended for the rest of the school year. Someone needs to tell him that chivalry is dead and forget about taking the fall for the girl. We've committed to working together for the rest of the quarter to make sure our school system doesn't fail him. He also needs encouragement to keep going, and he just won't get that sitting at home alone everyday. He might have rearranged his thinking, because I encouraged him to volunteer at a retirement home - he's going tomorrow to look into it.

Friday was beautiful, as I took my agnostic self to my friend's house for shabbatt. I'm humbled that she invites me into this part of her world. It's wonderful being around balanced people.

Guilty?

2007-03-27T19:47:00.000-05:00

I spent an hour on the phone with the district's technical support to see if they could trace which computer sent the porn print job to my computer lab's printer. They couldn't track it...

Unfortunately, this really great student, who I think probably did it yet denies it, but does so with creepy calmness. My adminstrator banned him from the computer for the rest of the school year, which means that he is going to be completely outcasted from the class and pushed into a 1982 textbook.

Not sure what to think about all of this.

Friday afternoon...

2007-03-24T19:32:00.000-05:00

Teenage boys. It might just be harder to grow up a boy than a girl. For instance, imagine, if you will, that you are exploring your sexuality as the son of ridiculously sheltering parents who don't even understand the concept of privacy. Then imagine that there is so much you can't talk about, in terms of becoming a man - all those hormones! You're even sheltered from spending free time with other boys your age.

Is it really surprising that in his geekhood and incredible suppression you would surpass all school proxies and print over twenty pictures of pornography in full 8.5X11 color.

Best part, I caught him. Too bad simply turning off a computer and printer doesn't cancel print jobs.

It's that day

2007-03-21T12:28:00.000-05:00

I decided that taking today off from work was the best choice for me. It was two years ago when friends, students, and I were in the thick of harm and violence. I noticed yesterday that I started to become extremely short and easily frustrated by my students. Let me tell you, it takes an incredible amount of inactivity to make me tense. That's right. I do my best when trying to reign things in and keeping a good flow going, but when there's nothing happening - well - that's when I get frustrated. Yesterday was normal. Totally normal, so I knew it didn't make sense that I was reacting to my students with such hostile tones and looks. They were confused, and so was I.

It comes down to that it's hard to be far away from anyone who understands anything about not only March 21st or the year that followed.

I'm warmed to read others' blogs about how they are working towards better things with the students I miss so terribly much. And I know that this place is better for me, and I can feel a totally different me since I can be an effective educator despite the fact that I'm teaching in a much larger school, with larger stereotypical problems of an urban school. This year has been a year of shedding triggers and pain. I'm finding there's been some callousing, but that's okay with me.

An incredible thing happened today. NPR ran a story on one of my students. They showcased him in a true light. They captured him spot on. It's so funny that on this day two years ago, a media nightmare was born. Ironic how today I'm involved in a story that breeds opportunity for my gem kiddo as opposed to more emotional pain from lies, morbid images, chaos, and money-making schemes and stories.

I've decided that I'm going to make a concerted effort to grow into myself. I've left something I know, something sour, something I loved, and I'm fine. Fine is boring. Let's try something rejuvenating out. How about another date, guitar lessons, Scout's puppy kindergarten classes, or the Bahamas for the hell of it.

Done.

Another way to handle it...

2007-03-10T17:34:00.000-06:00

So the friends didn't let the email message suffice. My phone was kidnapped by Michael, which then avalanched into this:

"Hello. This is Susan, Aimless's assistant. I'm afraid that there was an oversight with her schedule. She is due to have dinner with Mayor Dixon, so we'll need to reschedule your date."

At least he won't miss the email message and be left, sitting alone in a sketchy jazz club that would probably be cool with someone I knew. This should help me avoid any bad dating karma. Hopefully.

Too late

2007-03-10T15:54:00.000-06:00

I just cancelled the date. Of course I did it the really pathetic way, which is through email.

Dating Me

2007-03-09T19:31:00.000-06:00

I'm an incredibly awkward person to date. I'm supposed to go on a date tomorrow night. Awesome, right? So while I'm talking to this guy on the phone, I'm throwing these really blunt, unmagical statements his way. He's hearing things from me like, if I'm not enjoying myself or interested, I'm going to be straightforward with you and tell you - I expect the same. I don't care for drama. What are your expectations of me? Don't pretend you're perfect. I'm straightforward with people, so please be prepared for that. Why am I saying these things? (insert the obvious)

And yes, in my ideal world I'd be going on a date with someone I just bumped into at the coffee shop. Except I'm just awkward enough (theme for tonight's posts) to completely avoid that person rather than having a little carefree fun and flirting. This all results in giving match.com a try, and it's yielded some good experiences. Maybe I'm just an inverted person? Cute, fun, giggly, making eyes whatever comes after you make sense to me.

Anyway, I get it. Relax. Stop over-analyzing.

Still not sure if I'm going to go through with the date tomorrow night. The phone conversation was disjointed, but that's probably normal. We're going to a jazz club that is nameless in a potentially sketchy part of town. He also sent me a link to you tube of him streaking in one of his messages. What the hell? Crapola. He's an architect.

Let me introduce you to awkward

2007-03-09T17:11:00.000-06:00

Last Saturday went from wonderful to disgusting too quickly for comfort, literally. I had a slew of friends over for dinner and drinks on Saturday night.

We made barbecue tofu, wild salad, and cinnamon sweet potato fries. All of this from scratch, straight down to the barbecue sauce. While we all cooked it together, ate together, sang ridiculous songs together, drank together, sighed in pleasure at all of its greatness together, we also were poisoned together - by the grub.

Not cool.

Some fared better than others, as it appears the more alcohol one consumed the more it combated the plague. I woke up Sunday, felt great. Left-overs are the devil. Didn't even know that the food was tainted until I awoke Monday morning and talked to some friends on the way to work. I abandoned my classroom quickly as I realized the conditions were unstable.

Who hosts a dinner party and then poisons all the guests?

I call him Scout

2007-02-19T11:13:00.000-06:00

This would be the latest addition to my life. Also the latest edition. He's a golden retriever, 9-week puppy, and he's freakin' awesome. I like to think I'm really cool, yes I'm dense, so I thought I had the know-how to deal with the ups and downs of puppyhood. Wrong. Scout has totally proved me wrong. His wanker squeezes orange juice constantly, whether or not he was just outside or hasn't had water for a long time. I was housed, so they say. Anyway, we're working on a routine and he's getting better. Still no regrets. I'm disturbed by the peacefulness that comes with caring for this little tyke.

Managing Myself

2007-02-12T20:34:00.000-06:00

I've had my nose in The Power of Full Engagement: Managing Energy, Not Time, Is the Key to High Performance and Personal Renewal these past few days. I can't seem to figure out how to balance myself and this new life, and my Hopkins prof nonchalantly mentioned it during our class last Wednesday. I think it was the droopy, dark eyes that inspired her to check on the entire class's well-being. All of us are dragging ourselves through hell, not because it is hell but because we're young, new, and naive and don't know how to do this teaching as advocate thing very well.

So yes this book is geared towards a lot of people I don't know how to even relate to, but the concepts are logical. We'll never have more time, no matter how many time-saving tricks we try to evoke. Therefore, all we can do is prioritize purposes and maximize our energy flow throughout the day. I'm going to power-through this book and see if there's some common sense that can be applied to the every day. I'll let you know whether it's worth a purchase, as I'm still not sold.

In the meantime, I continue to yo-yo between teaching, planning, social life, cocktail parties for the non-profit, mayoral visit, grad classes, etc. I'm hoping for two snow days in a row. Now that would be fucking awesome. Especially after being thrown into the waves of administrative chaos this past week. I went from being yelled at, to nurtured, to receiving roses and certificates (5 - jeez) during our staff meeting after school today. We'll see.

Creep

2007-02-06T18:20:00.000-06:00

Badness just creeps into people's lives. Like these past two weeks. Awful. Especially today. I think most of the bad is only of a mild nature, but too much of this mild bad really makes me want to be in therapy - seriously. If you have a license to tell me I'm okay, then I must be. Mild bad is the creepy kind, where you have the rationale to know things could be worse, but you're still swept up in it.

This thundering head is slowing down, barely, but now I'm at the place I love the most in Baltimore. I'm drinking from a huge, powder blue cup, sitting next to a plant that has crept along an entire wall, listening to sultry music, and getting ready to fall into a linguistics textbook. Funny how academia is always there to put the other things on pause, you know the things we don't know how to deal with properly. I'm going to use all the logic I'm capable of performing to take a break from all the other bad emotional thingys. This is how I balance myself out.

The pace of things.

2007-02-04T10:04:00.000-06:00

Grandfather is in the hospital then out. Now home, he prepares to finally want to fight for his life. This slow descent into death, with no other family but my parents around, is core numbing. It's time like these when I realize pettiness is absolute and absolutely a waste of time. I've traversed that myself but have learned that lesson early. One internal bleeding incident, heart attack, and family battle later, I know more about being human.

It's a good thing that I have solid friends here in Baltimore and students that make me feel too connected to something that should just be considered my job.

2006-12-27T17:40:00.000-06:00

My family and I are running errands. We stop at the place where my father works. The boss is there and is pleased to see my mother and I. She was already talking to someone and begins to introduce us. After my mother's introduction comes mine: She's the one who was in the middle of the shooting inside the high school up North. Now she's teaching in inner city Baltimore. She teaches the bad kids. Yes those words come out, exactly. They look at me, waiting for a signal of that's me. Instead I keep looking.

I like
awkward
ignorance
to hang.

Are your kids really tough? Silence ruins people (people who don't know how to listen, that is), and I'm not that mean. I finally respond.

"My kids give me exactly what I expect."

Minnesota

2006-12-24T00:46:00.000-06:00

After an incredibly annoying flight from Baltimore to Minneapolis, all I could do today was sleep. Sort of ridiculous. But I'm here, and there seems so surreal. This whole being home thing has really made my already huge life change feel even more empowering. It feels good to know I'm established on my own and happy. Thicker and happier and free of pain. Now I just need to quietly, fluidly fight to keep it, because life smacks the shit out of people out of nowhere.

I'm looking forward to a week of time with parents and friends and returning to a date and those friends and a hard hitting New Years Eve and my students.

It's looking good. I'm good.

Two Weeks

2006-12-10T09:53:00.000-06:00

It would be a massive lie to say the past few weeks haven't been overwhelming. It always surprises me how much my school expects me to do just because my academy's class sizes are smaller than the average class size. Despite teaching three separate 90-minute curriculums, some of which I am quickly trying to teach myself, they have added on some really random tasks. I now make all the certificates, individualized, for our student body - such as attendance and honor roll. (I taught myself how to mail merge like a mo' fo'). They put me in charge of creating and maintaining a web page, which I don't know how to create or maintain. I'm also in charge of our two-faceted blackboard system. Apparently, I have become the new productions department, as the faculty and staff of my entire building usually request that my students and I produce random banners and posters for them. I've been delegated to create a promotional video for our school and to create a commercial for a non-profit initiative. Then there's the part I like, teaching, lesson planning, talking to families, working with students after school, sort-of grading - the usual that in itself is all encompassing.

So when a member of the alumni walks into my door on Friday afternoon and drills me with questions about this project and that project and what have we done to prepare this and that and makes me feel guilty for having very little planned purposefully, I understand.

He starts making plans for me to make plans, which I appreciate his guidance until I realize that I already have plans. That would be my plans to finish all the grad work that is due on Wednesday.

Hey, wait a minute, what about the plans I actually care about? Like the plans I've made with three of my students who are about to slip between the cracks? Each one unique, you do this and this happens, you do that and that happens, you do this and you've disappointed this and this and this. How do I get to all their teachers, conference with these great young men, and keep track of all that with all of this? Then there's the grant I applied for to bring in a radio broadcast program into the Academy - what about that plan?

How did all of this shit get thrown at me? I don't even remember saying yes, except when I accepted the job.

Right now, all I can do is vent to get it out, despite its whiney intonation that usually annoys me. I'm going to sit at this sanctuary of a coffee shop, work on Hopkins until I can't think anymore. It'll then be time to run at the gym, lift as well. Go home, work until logic tells me its time to go to bed so I can get up at 4:30 and get to school to lesson plan and prep my classroom.

Students all the time...

2006-12-03T11:16:00.000-06:00

Last night brought conversations and a movie that never ended. We three new teachers talked about life without love, wondering how it's ever going to stumble upon us when we work, work, work. Bars, not fitting for our three different situations and personality. The chances of having a compatible encounter is ridiculously minimal.

Yet I right now feel fulfilled every single day by my amazing students. I just spent an entire Friday and Saturday with them without regret.

What I fear is a growing regret that comes with too much time of not expriencing lust, love, and adventure.

Holidays

2006-11-25T09:27:00.000-06:00

We had a potato-off! Michael lost...Shawn won!
Roommate cutting the herb-scented, roasted turkey I cooked
The day after meant buying a tree and decorating it!
It came with a plain wreath that we decorated to add a little pizazz to our desolate and crazy street.
Yesterday my roommate received a $40 parking ticket in front of our house. This provided a great opportunity to talk to our wonderful two neighbors. We talked about what our Baltimore neighborhood used to look like and the little ways we can bring the pride back. We started with a wreath, tree, and lights around our window.

Hindsight is 20/20

2006-11-25T00:00:00.000-06:00

(Thank you Hatchmaster and Joel)

Violence & Death

2006-11-12T12:32:00.000-06:00

After much reflection from the death of a student, I think I came up with a loose theory as to why it hit my students so hard. Beware, this is a generalization to an extreme.

Students can explain death by violence. Although its justifiability is rare, they can logically draw connections between people, words, actions, time and place.

Students can't draw any sort of explanation of a fourteen year-old boy dying of natural causes. There is no concrete logic that is applicable to the lives they carry. No concrete path to follow from point A to B.

As an adult, the medical world is logical and devastating when it comes to death. However, I can't seem to understand people killing people, ever.

11:36 PM

2006-11-10T22:43:00.000-06:00

I still have another four page paper due for a grad class tomorrow. I already wrote one earlier this evening. Somehow I find myself fumbling through other items of interest, like my sister's blog. Or how now that she's gay and out to the world, her life is so different. Her roommates treat her like shit. People look at her differently. I'm not sure about this new girlfriend yet.

Then there are the other emotional blows of the day to consider. Like the student who died last night. My entire sophomore class was softly crying. I had nothing for them. Nothing to offer. Looking back at it, I'm glad that they were all feeling their emotions openly. It's healthy. It's also a little overwhelming for me. I didn't know the student who died, I just know mine. And I've grown so attached to their lives, happiness, and success that knowing I had nothing for them threw me into my own grief. Of course then there are the flashbacks to a time when other students died...

What's more expensive? Car battery or stereo system?

2006-11-07T15:19:00.000-06:00

Sweet glory. Oh I love its silky ooze.

The family across the street bought a brand new Dodge Caravan. It's maroon. The license plate is outlined with a cute little bullet border. Apparently, they don't have a stereo system in the house, so instead they open their automatic side door and blast the bass. My bedroom wall shakes - from across the street. Best part is, they're listening to the music from inside their house. Nobody is outside dancing in the street being cutesy. Nobody.

Then the music died. Because they finally killed their van's battery! Hah. Buy a stereo! Grrrrr. They're going to kill Miss Margaret next door. She's the cutest old lady who sits on her stoop and talks to me about Minnesota and wants to know about my students. She'll officially go deaf, lose her mind, and die.

I hide and do my thing

2006-11-06T22:01:00.000-06:00

That's right folks. I just cranked out eleven letters of recommendation for my seniors within an hour. Add the complicated factor that I've known these students for, oh, about two months now. Awesome. Whew.

On another note, I'm a total suck up, but I guess I'm just really passionate about telling people the positive thoughts I have about them. We deserve to hear good things! I sent my principal an email saying I respect and appreciate working for her. I said I love that she makes the right decisions, not the popular decisions, stays honest, and is student-centered.

And on another totally different topic, have you ever noticed that the people at staff meetings turn into starving wild dogs with a pack mentality? If you have anything to say, be prepared for your flesh to be shredded. The victim never deserves to be torn into chewable chunks, because usually he or she is just the messenger.

Remind me to NEVER host a professional development session or speak at a staff meeting. Ever.

Constant Cringing - Even Laughter

2006-11-05T01:16:00.000-06:00

Borat
Friends talked me into going, but it turned out to be an intelligent level of funny. Who knew that Sacha Baron Cohen's character was going to be someone that I actually enjoyed? Moreover, who knew that my lasting sentiment after the movie was another echo of, well, racism is stupid?

2006-11-04T11:50:00.000-06:00

wow. i really have nothing to say.

Exhaustion

2006-10-27T16:43:00.000-05:00

I'm constantly told I have the good students. What a label. I find myself wanting to desperately fight that, and then I feel bad because my students are wonderful. In the end, when I stutter some sort of response to my accusers, they end up saying that I have it easy. Small classes, mostly motivated students, yeah - you know - paradise.

If all students were in classes of 10-15, with experiential learning at the core, we'd all have good students. The reality is they don't, I do.

So let's take the small number of students I have, around 33. Let's imagine the intense speed in which one would get to know her students compared to other teachers who are trying to learn their massive amounts of students. I've simply had more opportunity to bond with my kids.

Let's add into the mix the very real conversations we've had. My students' lives are no different than those of my coworkers. They are in gangs, interested in gangs, abused emotionally, living in poverty, and some are living a comfortable life filled with love.

This all brings me to this exhausting week. I didn't exactly know how to plan for production week, given the setup of my journalism program is so much different than RL*HS's.

On the verge of hitting the end of the week, we really had hardly anything in place. Last night we went through with our layout meeting despite massive numbers of students not showing up to help. The kids worked their butts off. We are so far from anything I consider intelligently well-crafted (that's half my fault for not envisioning this process better and planning for it). Amid the adrenaline of our first issue, comes the young lady who is hysterical in the hallway. I sit with her. She's threatening suicide. Reveals agonizing family history, the culmination of suppression is surfacing. Her family treats her like dirt.

The next morning, my fast favorite student - little bit of a born-into gang banger - rushes into my room with the most innocent expression. He was shot at several times last night. He smiles nervously. I can tell he's actually shaken. I try to shut up and listen to what he isn't saying, because that's how we communicate. It's why he gets along with me, I think. I can't help but to lose my stomach to nerves, as I wonder what the morning could've been like. How angry I would've been that his existence was destroyed.

Last, but not least, one of my most stand-up young men, finally came clean with me and just outwardly admitted his gang involvement. I had pointed out the scribbles on the back of his notebook to him here and there the last couple of weeks. I would just point at it and say things like, oh no, or you aren't doing anything stupid are you, or XX I'm always worried about you. He finally just came clean. He's one of the most fucking intelligent, with-it kids, I've ever met. He works hard in school, lives a drug free and healthy life. He treats everyone with respect. He has one of the most dynamic approaches to the complicated and difficult questions I ask in class. He has it all. This kid is going places.

I'm not sure what's going to happen next.

Ever heard of this...

2006-10-22T12:02:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was our homecoming. My young men were broadcasting the game this time. While our clock on the scoreboard wasn't right for most of the game, they sounded good when they called out the plays.

And really, after working an extra day, being outside and a little too chilled for comfort, everything went well and was fun. Except for one thing. The referees ejected our star wide receiver for saying, get this, "Damn coach. I really messed up." WHAT!? You kicked out my little third hour receiver for saying damn, which was attached to an apology?

We lost by one point. If only they saw the taunting Digital Harbor's players were doing, maybe we would've won.

What does caring look like?

2006-10-17T21:29:00.000-05:00

I'm fearful of my inability to be scared passionate about working long, feverish nights. Who am I to belong in this group of relentless pursuers in education when I refuse to work another five hours when I get home? After two years of hardship, emotional staleness and crisp moments of joy, I don't want it. I want me. I want my own life.

All of this is said with immense and painful care for my current students.

Then I check my email. Filled with several former students writing about their hardships. They are the same hardships of the past two years. Friends overdosing on drugs, a former student killing someone, gangs, depression, hopelessness. Same cycle. Nothing new. Except that I love these students and miss them. Me sacrificing all of my time for them, hasn't impacted much directly.

Let me clarify. I can look back and pinpoint meaningful interactions with students that have set up our current relationships. I can recall most of the moments that developed rapport. It wasn't a lesson plan. It wasn't coming home to grade and go to bed.

My instruction only bettered itself through reflection, perhaps during a drive home, a journal entry before bed, a blog entry. I improve through grad classes. I improve by jumping into professional development opportunities. I improve by watching others teach. Not manipulating Microsoft Word to make my ideas look better. Not going to lie. I sometimes create lesson plans before school for that current day, not the ideal. But not that big of a deal. At least not to me. I feel comfortable that I can figure out my day in enough of a structure that makes sense for learning. Sometimes this fails me, but I almost think I'd fail more in other ways by being a perfectionist and workaholic.

These past students and their emails have taught me better. I cannot carry other people's weight. Tonight I come home knowing the horrible stories of my current students. I call them my darlings, babies, sweethearts, and hons all day long. At night, I think of them in flashes. I wonder if Kevin went to bed or if he spent his night out on the street being tempted by things so outside of his Eagle Scout character. I constantly pick on him during class (clearly in the most ridiculously, silly way that it cannot be miscommunicated as cruelty) just to keep him awake and checked in. I wonder if the depth of the gang symbol found on a notebook of another particular student. I wonder all kinds of things. Yet I don't carry these thoughts for long.

I don't grade. I hardly lesson plan...at night.

And I don't feel like I care less or teach less skillfully because I choose to not stress myself out. I'm watching all of these new friends give everything to a profession, a job. I don't want that.

Yet I feel this guilty nag saying, look - your roommate has worked the entire time she's been home! Why aren't you doing anything? Don't you care?

Grinding Away

2006-09-24T12:51:00.000-05:00

This week is closing and peaceful.

My students were the live announcers at our Friday football game. Adorable. Tough high school men, with legs and voice shaking. Yet they sit there at our makeshift broadcast table, slowly building confidence, ignoring the rude remarks from smart ass kids behind them in the stands.

It isn't long before they start to develop a style, catch phrases, and the stands -sparse for sure- become more excitable. I'd like to say that we won in overtime because of my charming young men, in their ties and Sunday best, taking their power seriously.

Hermit

2006-09-18T19:22:00.000-05:00

Wow. I have crawled (I can't believe I spelled that wrong) into my hermit shell. I get up at 5, work hard/teach hard all day -every minute- until my mind melts around 6, scramble out of the building for masters class/meetings/more meetings, fly home, lesson plan, grade, make calls-students-network-family, watch fire trucks extinguish the fire across the street, read Middlesex, go to bed. Three things aren't fitting into my shell friends, coffee, and working out.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Need to find a balance. I blog about this often, yet nothing has seemed to change.

My classroom is far from perfect, but I finally feel like I have a direction with these three crazy curriculums. In order to have that direction, those three things are shut out.

Not good. Yet I'm obsessed with my students and look forward to teaching them everyday. I look forward to lunch, when groups of students come and hang out in my room. The only thing missing from that sanctuary is a guitar, which hurts when I play it.

Sunday Sunday

2006-09-17T11:49:00.000-05:00

In the mess of teaching and living and death and homelessness, I love Baltimore. I feel incredible peace and kinship with the new people I've met here. It's a strange feeling to not terribly miss home, Minnesota. Very strange. I booked a flight home in December. Same night dreamt about the euphoria of smells and colors and comforted feelings that accompany home and growing up and memories of a time without stress and the real world.

Now my real world is different. Sometimes I feel fleeting moments of merging experiences that have equaled comfort. Like driving and a song comes on that I used to rock out to driving to the library after school, because I was bored and wanted to learn more. And snow. The clean and crisp air of snow and cold.

The Midwestern edge of niceness is probably never going to wear off. I thought I was this kick ass bitchy don't get in my way kind of person, and I realize that was just a facade. That actually, when Steve, homeless man who washes cars, becomes too aggressive and washes my car without permission and still expects to get paid, I feel guilty that I have no cash instead of mad that he washed without permission. When my students are assholes, because everyone has a day here and there, my response is motherly and analytical. They don't get that. But I've ignored all the advice not to smile the first month and let myself be who I am with my students. They know me, in many ways - all appropriate of course - and I'm slowly starting to get to know more and more of them, as they allow.

Now I sit in a snotty little coffeeshop that is so different from the one in Bemidji where I could look at the lake and drink my usual. My legs don't go numb from being here for hours, because they don't have extra tall chairs and tables that make my legs dangle. The service is city-esque and snappy. It's okay though. I play up the guilt trip, and people back off.

Minnesota nice is actually Minnesota passive aggressive.

Teaching Tip

2006-09-13T20:29:00.000-05:00

Even if the students have left for the day, still do not use their bathrooms. If you choose to break this rule, you run the risk of skidmarked pants.

Let me explain. For some reason a chunk of poop was slopped on the toilet, above the base of the bottom but not visible when standing. It only becomes visible once you pull your pants up and lose your grip.

You may try again, but you will fail. There's no controlling your grip when human fisces are involved. At this point, you realize something is on your pants, and you look at your hand.

As if the smell wasn't fugly enough, you'll notice how every crevice of your fingernails is filled in.

Soap dispenser, empty.

Shit list.

2006-09-03T15:50:00.000-05:00

I'm on it. I'm on it because I forgot, for the second time, to call someone when I said I would. All this tension is over a Saturday night. I'm slowly learning the new norms of new friends.

The philosophy that I'll call you but if something else comes up don't wait on me doesn't fly. At this point, apologies sound like a broken-record.

So I obsess, because it's what I do best. If someone is upset or frustrated with me, no matter how big or small of a conflict, the whole situation swirls and twists my thoughts. Do I address it and face a potential blow-out? Do I not address it and let the tension slowly fade - until the next mistake I make? Was I really an ass?

Trying to remember when drama suddenly had a place in my life...

What else?

2006-08-31T20:49:00.000-05:00

I forgot to realize where I am. I'm a self-sufficient career woman. This has been my reality for a while.

Shouldn't there be a moment had?

I have no dependence on anyone else anymore, none. How freeing. Sure, I have financial obligations like freakin' student loans and a car loan and other normal bills, but I can pay them. Freeing. I can move across the country for a professional opportunity and make new friends and grow a sanctuary on my street that houses diverse ages of neighborhood boys rotating between playing football in the street and sitting on the hood of my car spectating the others. While I cringe inside from over protectiveness of my vehicle, this is still freeing. Standing in front of my students, watching the fruition of painstaking planning is freeing.

What other moments have I missed?

The Kick

2006-08-28T20:27:00.000-05:00

I'm walking around my room, figuring out what needs to be done to make every transition flow in my classroom. It's a few minutes before my prep hour. Students are moving to their next class. My doorknob turns with the extra force it requires, and two young men curve their necks around the doorway. They are sneaking a look at me, the new teacher. I invite them in, ask them their names, and I can't stop smiling. They are big, lanky, awkward teenage boys with little grins because they're curiosity has been quenched. They leave.

adrenaline kicks me. I have to catch my breath. I'm literally, at this point, so excited to start teaching the next hour that my hands are slightly shaking.

I'm not nervous. Not at all. My theory is, that if you have passion - which I think I do, you'll be fine. Passion pushes one to be excellent and work harder, to figure it out if it's broken.

Today was amazing. My students are excellent. Each class has its own little personality. My first class is youthful enough to be sucked into my curriculum with pure enthusiasm. My juniors needed to check out my street cred before they jumped on the bandwagon. My seniors, they're still wary of me, but that's natural. I'm their third teacher in a program where a single teacher is supposed to follow them for three years. They just wanted to know that I was purposeful, that everything in my class was put their for a reason and that my credentials checked out.

Okay, so I am a little nervous, but just nervous that I'm going to fail my students or not do enough for them. I'm not nervous about classroom management, investment, or knowledge of the subject.

I'm sure it's clear, but I have a miniature personal life at this moment. I will solve this with wine or Guinness on Friday night. Maybe find myself a man.

2006-08-27T18:40:00.000-05:00

School starts tomorrow.

I have no idea what to expect besides that I have to wear a T-shirt to represent unity for the students.

Background money swapping

2006-08-20T14:58:00.000-05:00

I've never experienced real tragedy until I hit adulthood. Sure there were moments of crisis while growing up. Family wars, bitter childhood and teen fights, death of people I love - but always logical death, taunting and jealousy both ways, etc. So much of what is hard about tragedy, my play on semantics, is that there's no present justification. As an adult, I can learn to deal with that and do. After tragedy, now I see crisis as a challenge, and I don't know what a crisis is anymore besides plain chaos.

Drinking a couple of beers, hanging out with friends in a low-key Baltimore neighborhood, and my roommate calls me. There are men outside the gate of our backyard, twelve of them. They've been there since she left at 9 for the bars and returned at midnight. Her deviance degree gives her a sense of logic and non-fear that I appreciate, since my teacihng this past year has also given me these senses informally. She can hack living on our street. But she knows better than to let our dog out to pee when these guys are out there. One, the dog is going to freak out, and she's new so we don't know everything about her behavior. Two, someone in that crowd may be scared of dogs. Three, she's home alone and is an attactive young woman. Four, their method of gambling is another way for gangs to trade/sell guns. Five, she calls me. Six, I go home gladly, because she shouldn't be dealing with chaos alone on a street where people don't know what to do with us.

By the time I got home she had already called the non-emergency number to inquire. They told her to take the dog to a park and not go in our backyard. We left with Jordan (dog), the cops came when we were gone, so they were gone. All of it anonymous. All of it without incident.

I think the reason that my roommate and I don't have any fear about where our house is located, and the exciting things that happen in our neighborhood, is because we are willing to learn about why Baltimore has transformed into the city it has becomed. We are interested in people and (hopefully) not generalizations. Nobody has crossed us and vice versa. We both have a little knowledge about juvenile deviance, but we know enough to know that there are more young people working their butts off to succeed than not.

My little undergrad state university expected more from me

2006-08-14T19:56:00.000-05:00

I finished 90% of my grad work for a summer class yesterday. 90% of it. One day.

I've decided that my grad program must be the equivalent of a diet pill.

Preparing for a new school

2006-08-13T00:53:00.000-05:00

Many Baltimore schools have a bad rep, mine isn't any different. After speaking with a reputable teacher from my future school, it sounds like a lot has improved. Apparently it was one of the most violent schools in the city.

The community, in all senses, totally abandoned it.

Now the violence component is gone, but the majority of classrooms are not managed.

The community is coming back, slowly, painfully slowly, but it's progress.

Academics are still beyond dismal. Only 20% of our students passed their English graduation test.

Yet the program I'm entering is one of prestige and triumph. It's a sanctuary of intellectual expansion for my future students, who fight to learn in their other classes.

What excites me most about working at this school isn't merely the challenges and input I'll eventually have (after I sit back and see how the school works = year 2), but the students I work with care about their school, community, future. I get to work with the people who are going to directly impact change. They know what they deserve, and we can make sure it's voiced.

To tie it all together for you, teaching journalism inherently implies an interest in your community. If my students don't right now, I can guarantee that'll change. There's a fit for everyone.

Soon. I can't wait to be teaching. I miss buzzing hallways.

2006-08-13T00:45:00.000-05:00

You know you've arrived when you start to recognize strangers.

Pockets of comfort are revealed and habitual, without the loss of curiosity of other places unexplored.

2006-08-06T19:48:00.000-05:00

Hop Scotch is a silly game; it is calculated to wear out the shoes and is played by the lowest kind of children.

New House

2006-08-01T22:38:00.000-05:00

List continued...

Since moving into my new house in Baltimore, here are some of the controversial happenings:

1. 4th of July shooting (boys shooting guns for fun in the alley ALL NIGHT LONG)
2. Drug deal -
3. Homicide on my street corner (at 5:21 am - right after my alarm mistakenly went off - 12 shots fired - one person left on the concrete)
4. Watching cops clean up crime scene of said murder
5. Inmates cleaning my street

Is it wrong that I still adore my neighborhood and new neighbors? I have no fear, rather a heightened sense of awareness.

What makes a weekend...

2006-07-23T21:44:00.000-05:00

1. Realizing you only five days left of living on a scummy campus and only seven more days until you live in your new house
2. Sleeping in on Saturday morning
3. Leisurely sipping coffee and grading
4. Getting accepted after a home visit to become a dog owner
5. Realizing your family that you oh-so-miss will be here in a week
6. Being told by animal activists that you are a cruel person
7. Driving in torrential rain with your trunk open with your new dining room set
8. Watching a drug deal happen right in front of your house while unloading your new dining room set
9. Eating Uno Pizza and assembling said table and chairs
10. Sleeping in on Sunday morning

I can't wait to be done with this training program.

I'm ready.

Damnit.

Catharsis

2006-07-13T18:12:00.000-05:00

Five minutes from now I begin the usual nightly routine of working until my eyes seduce the bed and my brain gives in to its funk.

The last three weeks at Phili's Inst*itute haven't been nearly as stressful as everyone cautioned. Maybe it's because my own little life experiences have taught me that, in the long run, deadlines and assignments and expectations are trivial. Every requirement has been accomplished, deadlines met. I don't know how. I just go, do. Throughout all of the going and doing and being and structure and people-hurting-themselves-with-stress, I can still stand back and feel peaceful. This isn't pain. It doesn't look like this. This looks like growth, which has jagged edges at times. Pain spurs growth: it isn't growth.

These students of mine, new yet similar personalities as my former, they get the methodical, healthy me. They get the person who has left tragedy behind and not looked back. My students get my stories, but my stories are no longer me. My every day creations, sequences of movements, thoughts, and street paths are me. I feel free; a sense of focus overwhelms.

Then there are these new people that are becoming fast friends. People aren't what I expected. I feel loved. I'm part of something important, even if it means I've been brainwashed. It's not the organization I feel connected to, it's the new relationships.

The city doesn't hide it...

2006-07-09T18:06:00.000-05:00

While sipping my guilty pleasure, I watched a man dig through a trash can. His fingers were shaking with desperation as he looked for anything that could slide into his stomach. He piled every edible ounce into a dirty container and walked away.

It's not that I've never seen homelessness and its horrors, but I've never watched a man with so much innocence and defeat. I wanted to do so many things in that moment, yet I did nothing.

As he walked away, turning disgusted stares, I couldn't help wondering about what opportunities were stolen from him.

Baltimore teacher learning the art in Philadelphia

2006-06-29T16:38:00.000-05:00

In Philadelphia I'm learning about resiliency - in myself. I walked into here reminding myself over and over again that my past experiences aren't any more valuable or worse than others'. I still work hard to bite my tongue and absorb instead of dictate what I know to have worked, because it might not work here. Then there's the whole idea that I can pick up and move towards a goal and not be suppressed by my past experiences. Peacefulness is fulfilling.

Results? Confidence. I feel like I'm becoming a disciplined person more-so than ever. The schedule isn't as tiring as everyone made it out to be, and some people disagree with this sentiment. I don't mind getting up at 5, walking and arriving to breakfast by 6:00, walking to transportation by 6:45, teaching and taking courses from 7-4:30, having about an hour to workout-eat-shower-Starbuck's(-blog), being in class from 6:00-9, doing homework until 11ish. Not having personal time isn't getting to me like I was worried about. It must be that whole passion thing again, because teaching becomes me.

Then there's the character building part of this experience, where I work with people who test my patience. I work with people (not my Baltimore colleagues) who won't compromise on any other perspectives but their own, and I realize that was/is sometimes me. Anyway, I addressed it directly and with our supervisor when the behavior didn't change after talking between the two of us.

In the end, I love the people I'm meeting from Baltimore. Enduring relationships are beginning.

Anew

2006-06-22T12:05:00.000-05:00

I wonder what my life would be like if I hadn't forced change? Definitely feel refreshed although exhausted.

In a few hours I sign my hiring form.

It's hard to know what to say, besides that I'm alive and will be limited in my time for blogging in the next 5 weeks.

B'more

2006-06-18T21:17:00.000-05:00

I'm here! Twenty hours later.

This is what I wanted. Tomorrow I fulfill my passions, even though leaving was hard (as noted above).

I begin again

2006-06-16T12:39:00.000-05:00

Cue the extended looks I give my father and grandfather. Their eyes are red, and I'm still here. My mother looks on with worry, because this is something she never ever expected. Thank god my family doesn't translate their own visions of life into expectations for mine.

The pangs in my gut are kicking in, and the excitement seems far away and loss so close.

What needs to happen is closure tonight at dinner. Well wishes. Reality checks.

Tomorrow I let go and explore and temporarily forget about ties and commitment to things that will be far away physically.

Yeah, it's a drab and boring entry, and this subject has plagued my blog. Soon, once my hands are shaped as my steering wheel, a new adventure begins.

Doesn't it seem like new changes must have hurt or discomfort to qualify?

Vibe

2006-06-15T00:07:00.000-05:00

On Saturday I hit the road for Baltimore. It's a little more than 1,000 miles. While people have offered to caravan ourselves there, I want to go it alone.

Me, map, music, and mind. Alone.

In the end, I love being alone. I like the space and breathing it provides.

There's balance in this act since my days are filled with people and laughter and analyzing solutions to problems just too big for one person.

The alone thing poses a new problem: living on a college campus for the next six weeks.

P.S.
Soon I'll post my new ink.

Take a stand

2006-06-11T14:06:00.000-05:00

I've been contemplating the concept of forgiveness the last few days. It fascinates me.

I want to know how people fit or don't fit forgiveness into their own lives. Is it a principal they live by, is it a spiritual concept, logic based, or simply not an important element?

More than anything else, I want to know what things in life are forever, and straight-up, unforgivable. Or if no situation applies to that idea, why always forgive?

Preparing for the best...

2006-06-08T22:50:00.000-05:00

I just read this post from a blogger on Live Journal. And I'm trying to figure out how to respond to it. Here are the things that caught my attention:

She constantly writes about T*FA members who dropped out throughout the two years. To me, that's a huge problem with the program. Either they're not recruiting well or not training well.

I don't - no - can't be arrogant when I drive my little Vibe into the Baltimore city limits. I know the absolute WORST of teaching. And I guess I just feel that I would've left teaching by this point if I didn't find my students inspiring and the work meaningful in many different ways. And to me, this sounds horrible, but the types of stress the staff and corps members talk about seems so trivial and overrated. In the same breath I don't want to belittle anyone's experience. I think my mentality on that first day needs to be classified as laid back and go with the flow. And I'll stand behind that. I won't buy into their campaign of teacher bootcamp. That seems so ridiculous.

We (all the new corps members) are leaving things behind. Really hard things to leave behind. Nobody takes this leap without loss, so if we are willing to let go of things that matter why should we do so at the cost of our sanity? I'm not going to do it.

Not being stressed out and overwhelmed doesn't translate into not being dedicated. It translates into ultimate efficiency, because you can simply think.

I can't deny the volumes of negative ramblings I find on blogger about TF*A. It all only makes me thankful walking into their program with the background I have. I already know I love this. I know that. I can't believe I know it. But I do. It's possible I won't like Baltimore, but I can live anywhere for two years. But in the end, I love teaching. And starting sentences with coordinating conjunctions.

One thing that scared me was this quote: "Caitlin told me she'd be making 41,000 a year working in Baltimore public schools. Immediately my interests were piqued. That's not a bad paycheck for someone straight out of college" I respect her honesty. How was she to know that in the end, the paycheck isn't enough of a reinforcement for this type of work? Our society tells us that in our jobs, in a perfect situation (minus race and inequality), we will be justly rewarded for our work based on the amount of muscle and brain tissue contributed to the end product. At least that was my message growing up. The entire paragraph is all about what she'd be getting if she went into teaching, not really what she'd be giving. Although, often teachers enter for the wrong reasons and end up teaching for the right reasons (I know the ambiguous nature of right and wrong reasons). I respect her honesty in her initial decision-making process, because this jargon is taboo in ed world.

"I sat in a classroom learning to be a teacher for most of my day, and teaching kids for an hour of that day. I spent hours every night planning for one hour of teaching. I had about three trained and experienced teachers constantly on call to help me whenever I needed it. I worked in a group of four members, all of whom beat out thousands of people for a chance to make it into this program. We were ready. We were dedicated. We were going to rock the 25 children who set foot onto Clay middle school for five hours a day." -Okay. Honestly, that's going to bore the shit out of me. I just finished teaching for two years in a sometimes war zone, and I'm only going to have to teach one class!? Cake.

But then I can't act like that now can I? Could be wrong...

I have to be humble. Arrogance aside, I really didn't love the setup of my own student teaching situation at the time. My cooperating teacher said he had nothing to offer me, my supervisor never showed up and when she did show she told me about her personal problems, and I didn't learn anything in almost every single ed dept. class. But for an entire year, I taught and tested the waters on my own, relentlessly. I had my cooperating teacher in the room next door, and I had coworkers I adored. While I didn't always feel supported in my struggles, I had a "safe" (what a joke in the long run) zone to use. What a slap across the face, 1 hour, for the new corps members!?

As evilwonderbra writes her honest account, I write mine. And I don't want to bash anything she has to say, because I suspect it speaks to many people's experiences in TF*A. I also don't have an interest in serving my two years and then working for the program itself. I'm interested in the program's potential to develop my professionalism and skills.

Wow. I read that post and just felt like I hard to write something, anything to sort out my reactions and work through anxiety. It's all good. I'm doing the thing I love. Oh yeah - I'm alive dude.

Can you say biatch?

2006-06-08T09:19:00.000-05:00

I flipped my cell phone open last night to see a certain old friend called, only she thinks we're still good friends (not you Andrea, Kamran, or Dan - oh wait - you two are boys - ahem - not you Andrea). On one of my other few blogs I think I wrote about the situation with a little vagueness, because blogs aren't for hanging up dirty laundry.

Yet here I am, a year later since this person trash talked me behind my back. I wondered then what we would be like now as friends, because in my mind I wanted a clean break from our friendship.

I got what I wanted. She has called a few times and left passive-aggressive voice mails about how I haven't talked to her in a long time but ooooh she'd like to get together soon and catch up! So I'd call her back and leave a message saying I got her call and call me back. We did that all year.

Now she heard I left, and I'm in her wedding pictures. She called again last week. I deleted her voice mail. She called yesterday, and I deleted it right when she said "hello."

No matter what approach I take with this narcissist (even though I'm the one with the blog), it'll turn into drama. Yuck. The friendship is tapped dry. So I leave quietly without regret.

Still in Shock

2006-06-04T17:38:00.000-05:00

All of my things - no - junk are/is sitting in my parents' basement. Tomorrow I sort through the objects that are too much, study curriculum, write out applications, call friends, and drink at the whore house called Starbuck's.

I don't even know what has happened to me within the last week, to be exact. The strength - no - energy to write about it is emerging.

I cried hard much of the way to the Twin Cities yesterday. Mostly because I miss two boys. Two boys who I love. The two people in the whole fucking world I actually trust with every part of my identity. And they won't be in that ratty city next year, so that helps. But it's still a long time coming before I spend time with them. There is no corny way to package them in words expressing my affinity.

Celebrate

2006-06-01T16:52:00.000-05:00

If you want to join call my cell.

Not Laughing.

2006-05-31T22:34:00.000-05:00

I.hate.moving.

The asshole in me is summoned. My face looks overwhelmed. Nothing is quite right. Closure moves to fast - but the packing is not fast enough. I'm thirsty all the time. Cats are always trying to run out of the opening and closing doors. Then I sweat. A lot. Gross. The shower feels rewarding, though.

I'm too tried to sing in the car during the four hour drive. Only left with more tiring thoughts of endings, because my mind still won't be ready to think about beginnings.

Let's not forget the new feeling of being overwhelmed from the quickly packed boxes once we arrive at my parents' place: only to be repacked for Phili, then repacked for Baltimore, then some things assimilated "naturally" into our split level family home, and other things repacked for disposal.

Pictures break. Things go missing. Furniture nearly takes out people. You get it.

Oh yeah - there's almost nothing to laugh about when moving.

Ambien CR = friend for the next three weeks

2006-05-30T21:31:00.000-05:00

Two days left with my laughter-embedded students and my ugly ass classroom.

Four days left with friends who know me better than anyone ever has, and I'm finally okay with that.

I suddenly don't feel one bit excited for leaving and this opportunity. Laura and I were talking and walking when we both decided we like the friends we have and don't want new ones. Okay so that's only sort of true. However, I must be tired/overwhelmed/depressed, because I don't feel motivated to put all the work and risk into new people. It's not the city or the distance, it's leaving the people I love (and it's only a few that I'm leaving behind in this little town - few but mighty) that is making my heart race while I force my eyes shut.

I hope Thursday night brings the closure I need to leave a wake of contentment.

5 Things

2006-05-29T19:04:00.000-05:00

5 Things
I was tagged by Jess!

5 Things in my Fridge
1. Yogurt
2. Apples
3. Milk
4. Dr. Pepper
5. Cheeses

5 Things in my Closet
1. Dirty laundry
2. Shoes
3. Old campaign paperwork from Frank Moe
4. Plastic tower full of junk
5. Garbage can

5 Things in my Purse
1. iPod
2. Wallet
3. Keys to classroom
4. Chapstick - regular kind
5. Tampons

5 Things in my Car
1. Lavender car spray
2. Kip from Napolean
3. Softball & Glove
4. Empty coffee cup
5. Badminton set

5 Things I wish I was doing right now
1. Drinking coffee at a coffee shop with reasonable hours
2. Making out
3. Laughing louder
4. Drinking beer or wine or a margarita
5. Hanging out with Dan/Nathan

5 Things I like most about my bedroom
1. The sage green bedsheets
2. My mattress - nice and firm
3. Pictures and wall hangings from South Africa
4. The two cats sleeping on my bed
5. The music it emits

I'm tagging:
Julie
Julie
Kamran

Events

2006-05-29T18:16:00.000-05:00

Monday I told my students I wasn't coming back next year. They were proud of me. A few boys were mad. I told students Monday to give them two weeks to digest the inevitable and allow time for questions to be answered. I sound really full of myself, and maybe I have made a big deal out of it for myself more than them, but when you endure extreme amounts of tragedy, pain, joy, and exhaustion a bond is cemented. Out of respect for what was built, they deserved time to ask questions.

On Tuesday, those same boys came around with their grief and questions and understanding natures. It hurts walking away from them. It pains to not get to see them flourish their senior year. That loss of investment creates a knot in my stomach and sleeplessness.

On Wednesday the last edition of the newspaper came out. Fabulous. It's our best so far. I'm entering the newspaper into a bunch of contests. We have nothing to lose.

The advisor position for the newspaper has been secured with a teacher I respect, tremendously. The newspaper staff was concerned about the continuation of our paper. As the advisor is new, I'm sending his staff members to as many workshops as possible this summer so they feel like experts.

I also found out I received the job I wanted in Baltimore. I have huge shoes to fill, but I'm starting to see how my personality is unknowingly paving a path into journalism education. It's time to knowingly harness that drive.

Then I celebrated hardcore that night with friends I'm not ready to leave. I'm dealing with the loss of my students and coworkers, but I'm not doing so well with the loss of my friends from work and college.

On Friday I rallied for free yearbooks and won. I also was invited to my principal's house for dinner to meet his family, because he thinks I'm cool. It's a mutual feeling. The day ended at school with me anxiously awaiting the yearbook shipment.

Despite a few errors, the book looks great. I can't wait for dispersement on Wednesday.

I camped all weekend with friends. We took a small hiatus to run up to the school for graduation. In the end, it was a lot harder to see them leave high school than I thought - reason #1 parenting seems way too scary. I can't stress enough how much we all felt like family. Some are going to college some are going nowhere, and that mixture is bittersweet.

The valedictorian gave props to me and my friends/cool coworkers in his speech. While teaching isn't about affirmation from students, it sure doesn't hurt the motivation of a teacher.

Camping continued along with jovial actions.

This week is going to be a blur, much like the rest of my summer. I haven't even really processed everything. I can only recount events; I don't quite know what they mean yet.

Relief

2006-05-20T14:17:00.000-05:00

Possibly because my own family has not gone far in post-secondary education, I am a failure avoider. I remember crying, my senior year in high school, in my favorite teacher's classroom. I was freaked out by college. I knew I had to go, but nobody I knew had ever made it through.

I traversed through the courses in college easier than expected. I found I was equiped to succeed, and I had no reason for fear.

However, that first-generation complex doesn't go away, I discovered. Even when I was accepted into T*FA, I was genuinely surprised. How could I, a state university student, beat out ritzy Harvard grads?

I applied with passion. That's what did it.

So now I sit here, reading the hours of curriculum that must be finished before Institute this summer, and am totally surprising myself. I'm specifically reading about reasons why the achievement gap exists, only to find out that I have already taught all of this stuff to myself. Of course that is thanks to a certain crusty professor who gave me the freedom to explore what I cared about in his courses.

I applied myself in his courses with passion.

I'm about to learn how to turn the achievement gap around. That's what I didn't know how to figure out on my own and my education department ignored.

Yet again, the complex arises. As part of my acceptance I have the opportunity to attend JHU in Baltimore. My own research discovered that it's one of the best education grad schools in the country. I may even be able to receive an advanced masters degree, but I find myself doubting if I'm smart enough to do it and well.

I do this all the time. And I encounter it every day at school when students doubt themselves and I TALK THEM THROUGH THEIR SELF-DOUBTING. Now I'm talking myself through the doubts, because I want to be more than someone who talks a lot.

The same professor often talked about cherishing failure. That is what I will do. If I fail at grad school, so be it. If I pursue it with passion, I think I'll be successful. If I pursue it with passion and fail, then I'll be content knowing I did my best.

Thoughts on Randomness & Predictability

2006-05-18T22:57:00.000-05:00

1. When I listen to music, the CD must be on random. My iPod's my bitch, because every CD I own is on random all at once. It's a new high that I never tire from.

2. When I order food at a restaurant, I pick three things I know I like or would like to try. Then I make the waiter/waitress pick a number.

3. I vocalize my stream of consciousness. Probably too much.

4. When I teach creative writing, I let go of educational theory and let my randomness enter the room. Hence, requiring my shy students to holler down the hallway, "Conflict!" Of course they were answering my questioning scream of what does every story have?

5. When I become turned around while driving, I relish in the unexpected occurrence and enjoy the random challenge.

6. I love teaching because my students say the most random shit, in which my randomness is instigated (however, I then oppress my spirit to bring us back to our educational opportunity).

7. I observe people quietly while they are talking, and usually I offer them random compliments that really have nothing to do with our current conversation - even though I still absorbed the conversation.

8. I like Faulkner. He seems random, but isn't.

9. I've never actually been bored in my entire life, that I can remember. Everything around me is somehow interesting or thought-provoking. It doesn't matter what it is.

10. Since I have a clear pattern of random randomness, I think that means I'm not random at all.

Raising Hell

2006-05-16T20:09:00.000-05:00

I gladly left for work at 6:30 am and arrived home at 8 pm. The school day itself was uneventful, but the newspaper meeting - wow.

The paper just needs to be revised a final time. Then we have one last edition to push out in the next three weeks. In the midst of the small army, furiously working on the newspaper this afternoon, the principal jumps on the intercom. "Please evacuate the building immediately. There is a gas leak in the south hall."

That's my hall.

Damnit.

At this point it's almost 5, and the computers were finally warming up the room. So I grabbed my purse -keys, cell, money- and escorted the kids out the door. We settled on the grass and started talking about the role poetry should have in our newspaper when I realized that if the building did explode, we would die. We proceeded to move to a place that wasn't actually next to the stacked bricks.

Then we cursed. We cursed at the sky for not bringing a camera. This is breaking news! Ideas brewed and we contemplated making a student pose like he was diving away from an explosion. Everything was figured out: we knew exactly who would throw the brick at just the right time to make it look like the building was really crumbling.

It didn't take long for the topic to spiral into about twenty others, and we were soon back in the classroom working.

About twenty minutes later, the fire alarms went off. The two students who went to go check on our cooking pizza came running back into the classroom. Uh. The pizza wasn't burning, it was just responsible for evacuating the entire high school and middle school.

The staff evacuated a second time. I trod down the hall to take the pizza out and let my mind imagine a flaming kitchen.

I arrived to the classroom and received a precious look of death. The custodian took out the pizzas, which looked perfect. I inspected the oven to find that it hadn't been cleaned for a long time. Ahah! It wasn't us, at least not completely.

I went back outside to the still-not-discouraged-newspaper-staff. We watched the middle school continue to evacuate. They were carrying trays of food. I guess they were having a formal dinner. We ruined it.

Oh well. Shit happens.

We waited outside for about twenty minutes before we decided to work through the pulsing alarm. I told the students we all had to eat one piece of the smoked pizza, since it was probably the most controversial pizza they'll ever consume.

I thought I was clever; they didn't buy it. The pizza fell into the trash.

The night solved remaining white space.

The throw down

2006-05-15T18:29:00.000-05:00

I purposefully intimidated the hell out of my American lit students today. We're starting As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner. Today we discussed some of the major questions the novel brings up with families and death, but the chat was about where we stood on the issues without novel ties.

We have three weeks to conquer this beast before the semester's over. I want us to do a quality reading, compose a literary analysis, and delve into Faulkner's greatness (in my opinion).

I also gave them "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." Next week - we're tackling "Wasteland." This is what I like to call my educational drop-kick.

We've worked hard all semester, and now I want them to work it like they're in college. Damnit.

Mi Yeewnii

2006-05-14T14:21:00.000-05:00

They have the courage to put me before what they want. Not perfect but graceful.

My joy.

She's tough shit, as the shirt says. My little sister has evolved into this amazing young woman. She's the most honest person I know, which is inspiration.

My Grandpa is the last of my living grandparents. He's been every man in his life: the kind you hate and want to lock up to a nurturing and loving maniac. His spectrum of livelihood keeps me real.

These two are dorks. Enough said. Okay, just kidding. Add Natasha to the picture (I don't have one, I discovered) and you will see physical representations of friendship; utopian relationships exist.

It's not that far...

In the midst of graduation parties, I'm (as everyone is) barraged with questions about next year. This makes it even more real, the departure. But when I step back to look at the people who make up my reality (not all are here), it's obvious that I'm adding more drama than necessary. These are all people that I'll know for years and perhaps my lifetime. Our relationships have endured years and distance and strange situations, so I'm certain physical separation won't change the things that matter about our connectedness. I've been craving distance to get closer to myself, which is liberating. I'm ready.

Prep

2006-05-13T12:29:00.000-05:00

My school is small. By now I know every single student's name in the building. Naturally, I know a lot of the spec ed students. Their teachers are pretty cool too, cool enough to hang out with during personal time.

One student, renamed Jack, and I have talked about playing our guitars together for a long time. He's only a ninth grader, but man - he's a huge kid. I get to be like the aunt type person. We have fun together always, because unlike his case worker, I never have to deal with him on his bad days.

Two weeks ago I made a promise to him that I would bring my guitar and play with him on my prep hour on Friday (yesterday Friday). Friday preps are great. You know you have the weekend to do planning, so that hour can be spent doing things more interactive in the school.

He never forgot our conversation, which his case worker said is a great feat for his wonderful mind. I walked into the room with my guitar, and he had the entire room setup for us. I told Jack to just start and I'd follow. His hands started slamming the strings and making wild noise, so I did too. Thirty-seconds later, his eyes are locked into mine and his head is swaying and he is jamming out like the Jack Johnson he wants to be.

About two minutes later he stands up, stops playing. He's facing the wall and starts taking these deep breaths and repeatedly says, "Okay." As soon as he turned around there was magic. I felt like I was living in a world where possibility oozed out of the crevices of life. He started to mouth silent words to imaginary band members, hand pointing and shaking in each member's direction, giving them very specific directions for our song. Then he looked at me, nodded, and we started to play our guitars again. We went on and on like this for about forty minutes.

We played nothing, but we played freely. I taught him how to tune his guitar with an electric tuner, but otherwise we just pretended we were rock stars.

Now this friendly giant doesn't just say hi to me in the hallways, he actually walks with me and puts his entire weight on his forearm resting upon my shoulder. He laughs at everything I say.

Jack has rhythm, he knows how to keep it too, he just doesn't know how to strum or play chords. I think, with his love for his guitar, that he could learn this. Despite his partially paralyzed hand, he could do it. Then I think, when kids feel this good, they can learn anything, no matter what the spec ed tests say about their brains or bodies. When something matters to a person, there is always a medium to success.

Endings

2006-05-13T11:45:00.000-05:00

The softball season came to an official close on Thursday. It ended bittersweet, as we didn't have enough players show up. The other team ended up giving us three of theirs. But really, let me play up my ego here, my players showed up. The varsity players didn't, therefore, I lost my girls. In any other game I wouldn't complain (be selfish), but this was our last game and we had all worked hard as a unit to achieve. We didn't work hard to compensate for the other team's lack of drive. One day when I'm a varsity coach, I'll understand. He asked for my best player, and I fought him on it. I told him he couldn't take her, she's our anchor in every way (attitude, technical skills, communication, etc.). In my extreme disappointment that varsity was acting like a bunch of nincompoops, I had to be reminded that varsity takes precedence. It does. I get that.

But I think one day when I'm a varsity coach, I'll cancel the season if we don't have commitment from the ladies. Letting them play without accountability in practice or warmups only enables them to live life in half-ass style. I'm really not a jock chick, but I can think of a million lessons and metaphors that playing sports teaches about living life well.

Of course the entire situation on Thursday is a lot more complicated than what a blog can dictate, but the season ended with a fizzle.

That's okay. I watched my JV players grow into decent athletes. Oh, and they laughed - all the time - while trying hard.

Mixed Bag

2006-05-08T19:15:00.000-05:00

The answering machine told me that I have an interested principal who would like to do a phone interview. My throat, instantly dry. Change in my life can't be anymore thrusted.

My email told me that I have to contact five different people and tell them my travel plans to Baltimore. Then I read I must arrive between 3 - 6 p.m. Is that possible in a two day drive from Minnesota? Ugh. Oh wait. I still have to move out of the apartment I live in now. one.thing.at.a.time.

The sun burned through my navy blue t-shirt as I hollered - slightly exhausted - "Who are you?" to a softball player. Once the weakest player at the beginning of the season, today she caught everything with perfect form and threw the ball like a pro. The two of us couldn't stop smiling all throughout practice. She even figure out her hitting. Damn. This type of development makes me sad the season is over after today. More time would buy...

My students hollered at me across the gym during opening ceremony to say "Hi." My voice mail relayed that these same students also called me when they were hanging out this weekend to say hi and that they hoped I'm having a good weekend. I got to be that teacher, the one where students forget about looking like a school-boy (see rock star complex).

My friend reminded me, through a story about herself, to stay focused on this last month in this town. No matter the preparations I must endure (there are still 48 hours of curriculum to experience), be here now because it'll be gone.

The sink reminded me that I feel like chaos because my environment at my apartment is chaos. Things need organizing. Like my brain.

It's that constant adrenaline for the unknown future and endearing past that keeps me awake longer than my body's will.

2006-05-07T22:13:00.000-05:00

We won...

2006-05-06T23:56:00.000-05:00

much to his demise.

Twins 6, Detroit 5

Hey it's an improvement

The third baseline and beer and good friends and goofy parents - hell yeah.

Body World

2006-05-06T16:28:00.000-05:00

I just finished attending the Body World exhibit. So I walked around a museum and looked at dead and preserved bodies. I feel stale and emotionless right now. Working up to the event I was eager, and I'm having trouble properly communicating my reaction to even myself.

What's cool about the exhibit is it brings a sense of understanding to how I literally exist and work. It's also a great way to advocate for a healthy lifestyle. Yet it was all, in a subtle way, unsettling.

I couldn't separate the science from the human. I started out walking the exhibit maze fascinated by the anatomy and how our bodies worked. The further I traversed, the more my face started to shrivel. I was walking among the dead. I craved to know the humanity of each person. Who were they?

The whole concept of somebody's job encompassing the slicing of a human body into five vertical pieces is alientating. I want to know the minds of the people who execute the plastination process.

The comparison has been made to the World War II torture, but all of the bodies in the exhibit are there voluntarily. In fact nearly 7,000 people are on a roster to be plastinated and used for education/art purposes. It just kept reminding me of the horrible experiments that were done in concentration camps, even though they are so clearly different.

How did Gunther van Hagens find his first person? What happens if he messes up a body during plastination? What is he going to do with thousands of bodies anyway? How many does he need?

I'm glad I went, because it has opened a door I don't understand and need to think more about: the relationship of death and humanity. As of now, I think the exhibit is important. It's making people think about a lot of complex issues. If people are thinking, this teacher is happy.

"She cares because it's her first year."

2006-05-01T22:20:00.000-05:00

Plastic & Effective Teaching

Today and tomorrow have been reserved for a major food company to execute an experiential learning project about how to start a business. Students get to engineer snack mixes and work with business executives. Of course, there were moments when students felt like they didn't have anything to do, so they started to get weird.

One example is when a student took a sheet of plastic, folded it around his face, then wrapped packaging tape around his head to secure the plastic. I walked up to the student with the distorted plastic face and said, "Let's make good choices." Then I smiled. Winked. Walked away. The plastic came off as soon I turned around.

Another student responded to my reaction by classifying it as caring for the student's safety, which is true. Then a second student followed that response with, "She cares because it's her first year. Giver her another couple of years and she won't care anymore." He knew full well how I'd react to that statement, so I just smiled at him and didn't really go there.

I know a lot of teachers who are crappy. They are lazy, unethical, and pursued teaching for what I perceive are wrong reasons. But they were always like this; time didn't create their presence in the classroom, rather it was an ill-poured foundation.

I hang on to the relationships I have with veteran teachers that are effective and dynamic. I disagree that time ruins a good teacher, because good teachers are always eventually aware of themselves and how they are interacting internally and externally.

Loss of awareness ruins teachers, just as gaining awareness can save teachers who started poorly.

Brandi Carlile

2006-04-30T22:36:00.000-05:00

I'm hooked - I admit it.

Freedom

2006-04-30T22:09:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow brings work. It brings students I adore and miss, even though I saw them yesterday. It brings a softball practice that surely will include laughter, because we're okay with being a scrub team even though we try for more. Tomorrow brings me. Me and my big fat voice singing in my car at 6 in the morning, espresso drinking, volume blasting, hearing dying, tires flying.

I'll sleep with sight on what was fought:

We danced and waved our arms around in the air, like we were somehow graceful at it. I was a pseudo hippy in the crowd, overdressed and quiet and peaceful. I'm attracted to the freedom, but restrained by responsibility.

I danced to Santana songs among potheads. I danced among intellectually stirring people, whom by the way weren't on pot. The dedicated rain didn't dissolve our energy, it strengthened the pull. The light pitter patter outside bore the rhythm inside.

Feet, thighs, hips, arms, fingers, stumbling around, releasing what we fought through all week, until each muscled and tendoned part contributed to a powerful subculture of freedom among strangers.

Who am I to judge?

2006-04-28T15:54:00.000-05:00

In my previous post, I ranted about teachers that I wish would just leave my school. I'm sure those teachers exist at every school.

Anyway, I'm a hypocrite. Check this out. I'm leaving for a new professional and educational opportunity, but whenever I think of other people working in my current position I cringe (or openings in other departments). What is it about the situation that is making me feel this desire to control everything? Why am I obsessing over if this person or that person is good enough? How do I know that I'm even good enough?

I need to let go.

Focus on now.