It’s times like these that I have to check my wounded heart and not play into the part of me that wants to settle in the comfort of my own bitterness. I got a call tonight that, unfortunately, has happened in my life more times than is decent. One of my former kids who is now one of my sisters called to tell me that one of my former students, her friend, is dead. And not only dead, but murdered. They found her burned body in a ditch yesterday.
I taught both her and her big brother in seventh grade. They were both active on my creative problem solving team. Her big brother is now a senior in college and she was a sophomore. I remember both of them as being absolutely wonderful- enthusiastic, kind, creative, honorable, up-standing kids – the kind all lucky teachers get to teach. I especially remember her because she always was positive about everything.
I haven’t spoken to either of them in years, but I feel the loss very deeply. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like for him, losing his sister in such a violent way. I have absolutely no idea what it must be like to be her parents and have to deal with the loss of a child. But I do know about being a teacher and feeling connected to the circumstance. I do know about losing students, and I do know about the pain of having to deal with that loss mixed with the confusion of having to comfort and uplift others when your heart is anguish stung.
It would be the easiest to feel that the world is shit, that God is shit for letting this happen to such a dear one. It would be easy to allow myself on this, my 4th student loss to violence, to stop caring about my kids in order to protect my own heart from the ridiculous cruelty that the universe tends to hurl in all directions. But I can’t let myself fall into that pit.
I have to say, though, that I don’t buy into that Christian-ease statement that is nonchalantly uttered in times of trial or grief or that is the comfortable thing to say when the situation is uncomfortable - that “there is a reason for everything”. I’m perfectly happy to lay down the bullshit card on that. Some things are simply bogus and no rational reason can ever be assigned to the circumstance. Some things are just flat out wrong in this unbalanced universe. This is one of those things.
But I refuse to give-in to that right now. I’m going to keep-on loving my kids, even if it is out of total defiance. I will keep including them in my prayers, even though I feel that prayer is worthless right now. I will continue to believe that there is good out there, even when at the moment my heart rejects any notion of redemption or light. I will continue.
But she can't.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Pants Pondering
Today I decided to wear white pants. That's no big deal, right? I mean, why even write about something as insignificant as wearing white pants on a day like today when the news is absolutely bursting with important information!* Except that wearing white pants is ALWAYS a big deal, as you clearly can see from the following thoughts I had throughout the day about them:
1. I hope my nude colored panties are clean since the only other pair I know are clean are black.. and lacy. Wearing the latter with white pants is probably not the professional message I'm hoping to send today at work.
2. I must drink my coffee before I drive to work since I have an infamous habit of spilling coffee in the car onto my lap.**
3. I better pack an all white lunch just in case: ☑cottage cheese ☑yogurt ☑saltines
4. Watch out for ALL pens. Make extra certain that the caps are on them in case you accidentally swing the writing end anywhere near your pants. Write with absolute caution. In fact, stick to pencil today.
5. Don't even THINK about that time in junior high on chicken nugget day when you accidentally sat in a smear of barbecue sauce, causing others to think that... (gasp!)
6. Look before you sit!**
7. Only drink water.
8. Only drink water if you are standing at a 45 degree angle so that if you do happen to dribble/laugh/sneeze without warning, the water will spot/spill/spray AWAY from your pants.
9. I have a wedgie at the moment and everybody knows. Try not to think about it or blush. There is no escape. They know. I know they know. Just play it cool until passing period and whatever you do, do not turn around. Just stand still. Only 45 more minutes. 45 short minutes. Oh good. 44 minutes.(tick tick tick) And now it's 43 minutes. 43 minutes to go.
10. No hugging the cat.
Down with white pants!
* Clearly, I recognize that thinking about my pants is never as important as the Burmese protests or the anniversary of the Little Rock 9... unless of course I think that I shouldn't wear them. In my line of profession, not wearing pants at work will probably end up in the news.
**a good suggestion for EVERY day!
1. I hope my nude colored panties are clean since the only other pair I know are clean are black.. and lacy. Wearing the latter with white pants is probably not the professional message I'm hoping to send today at work.
2. I must drink my coffee before I drive to work since I have an infamous habit of spilling coffee in the car onto my lap.**
3. I better pack an all white lunch just in case: ☑cottage cheese ☑yogurt ☑saltines
4. Watch out for ALL pens. Make extra certain that the caps are on them in case you accidentally swing the writing end anywhere near your pants. Write with absolute caution. In fact, stick to pencil today.
5. Don't even THINK about that time in junior high on chicken nugget day when you accidentally sat in a smear of barbecue sauce, causing others to think that... (gasp!)
6. Look before you sit!**
7. Only drink water.
8. Only drink water if you are standing at a 45 degree angle so that if you do happen to dribble/laugh/sneeze without warning, the water will spot/spill/spray AWAY from your pants.
9. I have a wedgie at the moment and everybody knows. Try not to think about it or blush. There is no escape. They know. I know they know. Just play it cool until passing period and whatever you do, do not turn around. Just stand still. Only 45 more minutes. 45 short minutes. Oh good. 44 minutes.(tick tick tick) And now it's 43 minutes. 43 minutes to go.
10. No hugging the cat.
Down with white pants!
* Clearly, I recognize that thinking about my pants is never as important as the Burmese protests or the anniversary of the Little Rock 9... unless of course I think that I shouldn't wear them. In my line of profession, not wearing pants at work will probably end up in the news.
**a good suggestion for EVERY day!
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Some Amazing Organizations
Tolerance.org is a principal online destination for people interested in dismantling bigotry and creating, in hate's stead, communities that value diversity. (Read more about how we define "tolerance.") If you want to know how to transform yourself, your home, your school, your workplace or your community, Tolerance.org is a place to start — and continue — the journey.
Kiva.org lets you lend to a specific entrepreneur in the developing world - empowering them to lift themselves out of poverty.
Yes! Magazine is dedicated to "supporting a more just, sustainable and compassionate 
world." With heavy emphasis on peace, human rights and democracy. The website offers free curricular modules.
world." With heavy emphasis on peace, human rights and democracy. The website offers free curricular modules. SoJust.net is the only document history of social justice, civil rights, equity, peace, and activism. Uncover the history of anti-racism, suffrage, the gay rights movement, labor activism, and other movements through historic speeches, song lyrics, poetry, essays, and other documentary artifacts related to soci
al justice.
al justice. Saturday, September 22, 2007
The New Line Dance?
My Mom says I'm too serious on my blog, which of course means that now is the time on Viaggio where we dance! My students are dying to get me to learn the Soulja Boy dance, the latest line dancing craze. They giggle every time I say the word "soulja." Wait until they actually see me doing the dance! The fact that I just learned about it last week means that it is already on the outs. But it's fun, anyway. I think I'm getting pretty good at it. You should seriously try it! Here is the instructional video. Um. I mean, here's how to CRANK That! (wink!)
Friday, September 21, 2007
Check Your Hesitation
I have many conversations with my friends that end with me saying, "Wow. What you're saying is so valid and so important that I think other people would certainly relate. Blog it. Seriously. This needs to get talked about. Use me as your soapbox." The following is a product of one such conversation. This is a very relevant and witty reflection by my dear friend, Jamie. He's been a guest blogger here before with his Zombie Jesus post and Vampires, Zombies, and the beautiful game one, so you already know he's a brilliantly insightful writer. I, for one, certainly can relate to this:
The question was multiple choice. It should have been simple. I was filling out a survey online. I don’t even remember what it was for; I am a whore for free stuff, so I participate in several consumer survey groups in which I trade my opinions and spending habits for a couple bucks or some frequent flier miles.
I had finished the difficult part and was at the very end of the demographic questions that finish out the survey. My age, my ethnicity, my ballpark salary range, my education level, and finally…my religious affiliation.
This was the first time in a while that I had been asked this question directly. The choices were very broad- Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, or Other. And I hesitated. I was shocked at myself for hesitating. I never would have done that five years ago.
Let’s throw out the background before anybody makes any assumptions about me. I was raised a Catholic Christian in Mississippi. And I was a pretty good Catholic. I was on the state (actually Diocesan, because Mississippi is only 2% Catholic, so there is only one diocese for almost the whole state) youth council, an officer in my Catholic Youth Organization, singer and guitarist for the Sunday night Mass. I spent time over two summers on mission trips in Mexico. I made the pilgrimage to Denver in 1993 to see THE Pope, not the new guy with the questionable past political affiliations.
I at least went to church most Sundays in college in Los Angeles. I found the Catholic Center on Campus a little creepy, so I went to a neighborhood church with Mass in Spanish most of the time.
When I moved to Texas, I spent months visiting churches. I picked one out eventually and began attending regularly. I stopped going there after attending Mass on September 16th, 2001. Take a second and put yourself back on that date, the first Sunday after September 11th. The church was packed. People were afraid. They were looking for wisdom, comfort, and many were probably looking to fill a religious void in their lives. I was excited to hear the priest’s Homily. That’s Catholic for sermon, for all you Martin Luther bandwagoners out there. Instead of lauding faith and God’s love as a way to find comfort after such a traumatic week, the priest gave a canned pitch from the Diocese asking for money as part of a special fundraising campaign for the Church. This was the same talk that would have been given if thousands of people had not died since the previous Sunday’s Mass. When he was finished with that, Mass continued, and nothing else was said extemporaneously. I, for the first time in my life, left after Communion.
I already had some major issues with some policies of the Catholic Church. This pushed me over the edge. I found another church and attended sporadically, but my relationship with Catholicism as an institution never recovered. It is important to note that this had nothing to do with my beliefs, or my faith, which remained essentially unchanged.
Over the years since then, my politics have been driven left of where they were, with little relation to religion. I still called myself a Christian, although I have always felt that religion is man’s interpretation of God, or God’s revelation of itself to man. I have always felt God speaks to people in a way they can understand, and that explains all the different faiths. I’m one of those who thinks we are all talking about the same higher power, just relating to him or her or it in different ways. I have also always distrusted man’s manipulation of faith into institutions, which is how I would define organized religion.
Here is where things get interesting. The reason I hesitated on the survey question is not because I don’t know if I have faith or if I believe in God. I am quite certain of how I feel about that. I even think that, for me, Christianity is probably the most accessible form of relating to God. I have no problem with Christianity. What I have a problem with is the baggage that goes along with the word Christian. More and more, I feel that there is a political component to that word. And, get your comments/flames ready, I would never want to be associated with the political side of Christianity.
So, for me, the question was, “Do I want my name associated with what it means to be a Christian in today’s world?” When I hear that word I start to play word association in my head…home school, creationism, right-wing, anti-feminist, intolerant, theocratic, Iraq…
To be fair, you can make some similar associations with other religion names, Islam, Judaism…you get the idea. I think I just feel that my religion did not used to carry such a radical political association and over the past few years it has gained that. It is alienating, at the very least. Now, to enter a church community, not only does one need to bring a set of religious beliefs in line with that community, but a set of political values as well. And I don’t understand why being a Christian has to mean that I demand every aspect of life embrace Christian ideals and condemn anything else.
So what am I? I felt very empty, and a little scared at my predicament. Am I going straight to hell because I denied my faith? I was sitting there waiting for the cock to crow. It is tough to let go of something as fundamental as the religion you were raised with. But if I truly believe what Christianity is about is loving my neighbor as myself and loving my God with my heart, mind, and soul, then this current right-wing political movement that stole my religion’s name needs to return it, seeing how stealing is one of the no-no’s on the list of rules they are trying to hang in the courthouses.
** Jamie also writes a soccer column for an FC Dallas website called 3rd Degree.
Check Your Hesitation
by Jamie F.
The question was multiple choice. It should have been simple. I was filling out a survey online. I don’t even remember what it was for; I am a whore for free stuff, so I participate in several consumer survey groups in which I trade my opinions and spending habits for a couple bucks or some frequent flier miles.
I had finished the difficult part and was at the very end of the demographic questions that finish out the survey. My age, my ethnicity, my ballpark salary range, my education level, and finally…my religious affiliation.
This was the first time in a while that I had been asked this question directly. The choices were very broad- Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, or Other. And I hesitated. I was shocked at myself for hesitating. I never would have done that five years ago.
Let’s throw out the background before anybody makes any assumptions about me. I was raised a Catholic Christian in Mississippi. And I was a pretty good Catholic. I was on the state (actually Diocesan, because Mississippi is only 2% Catholic, so there is only one diocese for almost the whole state) youth council, an officer in my Catholic Youth Organization, singer and guitarist for the Sunday night Mass. I spent time over two summers on mission trips in Mexico. I made the pilgrimage to Denver in 1993 to see THE Pope, not the new guy with the questionable past political affiliations.
I at least went to church most Sundays in college in Los Angeles. I found the Catholic Center on Campus a little creepy, so I went to a neighborhood church with Mass in Spanish most of the time.
When I moved to Texas, I spent months visiting churches. I picked one out eventually and began attending regularly. I stopped going there after attending Mass on September 16th, 2001. Take a second and put yourself back on that date, the first Sunday after September 11th. The church was packed. People were afraid. They were looking for wisdom, comfort, and many were probably looking to fill a religious void in their lives. I was excited to hear the priest’s Homily. That’s Catholic for sermon, for all you Martin Luther bandwagoners out there. Instead of lauding faith and God’s love as a way to find comfort after such a traumatic week, the priest gave a canned pitch from the Diocese asking for money as part of a special fundraising campaign for the Church. This was the same talk that would have been given if thousands of people had not died since the previous Sunday’s Mass. When he was finished with that, Mass continued, and nothing else was said extemporaneously. I, for the first time in my life, left after Communion.
I already had some major issues with some policies of the Catholic Church. This pushed me over the edge. I found another church and attended sporadically, but my relationship with Catholicism as an institution never recovered. It is important to note that this had nothing to do with my beliefs, or my faith, which remained essentially unchanged.
Over the years since then, my politics have been driven left of where they were, with little relation to religion. I still called myself a Christian, although I have always felt that religion is man’s interpretation of God, or God’s revelation of itself to man. I have always felt God speaks to people in a way they can understand, and that explains all the different faiths. I’m one of those who thinks we are all talking about the same higher power, just relating to him or her or it in different ways. I have also always distrusted man’s manipulation of faith into institutions, which is how I would define organized religion.
Here is where things get interesting. The reason I hesitated on the survey question is not because I don’t know if I have faith or if I believe in God. I am quite certain of how I feel about that. I even think that, for me, Christianity is probably the most accessible form of relating to God. I have no problem with Christianity. What I have a problem with is the baggage that goes along with the word Christian. More and more, I feel that there is a political component to that word. And, get your comments/flames ready, I would never want to be associated with the political side of Christianity.
So, for me, the question was, “Do I want my name associated with what it means to be a Christian in today’s world?” When I hear that word I start to play word association in my head…home school, creationism, right-wing, anti-feminist, intolerant, theocratic, Iraq…
To be fair, you can make some similar associations with other religion names, Islam, Judaism…you get the idea. I think I just feel that my religion did not used to carry such a radical political association and over the past few years it has gained that. It is alienating, at the very least. Now, to enter a church community, not only does one need to bring a set of religious beliefs in line with that community, but a set of political values as well. And I don’t understand why being a Christian has to mean that I demand every aspect of life embrace Christian ideals and condemn anything else.
So what am I? I felt very empty, and a little scared at my predicament. Am I going straight to hell because I denied my faith? I was sitting there waiting for the cock to crow. It is tough to let go of something as fundamental as the religion you were raised with. But if I truly believe what Christianity is about is loving my neighbor as myself and loving my God with my heart, mind, and soul, then this current right-wing political movement that stole my religion’s name needs to return it, seeing how stealing is one of the no-no’s on the list of rules they are trying to hang in the courthouses.
** Jamie also writes a soccer column for an FC Dallas website called 3rd Degree.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Karmic Burp
Whenever things are going well and I start to feel really good about myself, incidents like this bring me back to earth.
Here's what I wore to school today (sans Folgers Medium Dark Colombian Roast) - you'll need this for reference later:
The story:
As I was walking down the hall during a passing period, one of my colleagues, a young, second year teacher who is more "in the know" and who is a REALLY nice person, stops me and genuinely says, "Aw! Sweater vest! I like it! I personally gave away all of mine when they went out of style a couple of years ago, but I miss them. And yours reminds me that I wish I could still wear them!" And then she skipped away.
Nice. Look, I've been teaching for over nine years. I am almost 32 years old. I suppose that today was an initiation of sorts; I've finally joined the ranks of the veteran teachers. When I got home from school today I celebrated this "promotion" by searching the Internet for ye old apple vests and denim skirts, wardrobe must-haves for the tired, beat down veteran teacher. Break out the glasses chain, bun maker, and chalk-stained t-shirt. I'm finally home.
Here's what I wore to school today (sans Folgers Medium Dark Colombian Roast) - you'll need this for reference later:
The story:
As I was walking down the hall during a passing period, one of my colleagues, a young, second year teacher who is more "in the know" and who is a REALLY nice person, stops me and genuinely says, "Aw! Sweater vest! I like it! I personally gave away all of mine when they went out of style a couple of years ago, but I miss them. And yours reminds me that I wish I could still wear them!" And then she skipped away.
Nice. Look, I've been teaching for over nine years. I am almost 32 years old. I suppose that today was an initiation of sorts; I've finally joined the ranks of the veteran teachers. When I got home from school today I celebrated this "promotion" by searching the Internet for ye old apple vests and denim skirts, wardrobe must-haves for the tired, beat down veteran teacher. Break out the glasses chain, bun maker, and chalk-stained t-shirt. I'm finally home.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Gripe Interrupted
So, I've pretended to be stoic about this school year, so far, in that I have tried NOT to complain about the silly things that "settled" teachers get huffy about - the things that normal people would laugh at - as in, "I'm so angry that the lanyards for the school ID's are silver this year. Every other year, they've been green. Silver isn't even a school color. The world is going to hell and my life is over because the lanyards aren't GREEN! Whoever picked silver lanyards must be an agent of darkness from Satan's lair. I wonder what the Mansfield school district is like. I bet their ID lanyards aren't silver."
I'll be the first to admit that people who have spent any time in my profession (i.e. longer than 3 years)may have shorter fuses than the rest of the population, save the postal service. And probably we drink more and binge eat more than folks in any other profession. And we may or may not have good reason to be cantankerous since our brand of "customer service" is different from any other kind. But I generally work really hard at avoiding that petty sort of pissy attitude. In fact, I'm the girl in the back of the faculty meeting who is laughing hysterically at those who are interrupting the meeting with "serious concerns" about the color of lanyards, which is why I hesitate to share what's coming next.
My patience has been tested. My job is HARD enough without the added constraints of tedious extra paperwork, special accommodations, in school suspension assignments, lunch monitoring, mothering, micromanaging, and everything else extra that we are "expected" to do. This year I do not have my conference periods in my classroom because other teachers have to float into it. That means that I do not have access to my files or to any paperwork that I forget to pack in the 8 minute passing period during which kids are climbing over each other to ask questions/have dialogue with me about grades, personal matters. etc. Forget about having a parent conference during my conference period. I have no place to conference. It's like telling an office executive, "You have to complete all of your tasks every day without the use of files, a phone, a computer, or a quiet workspace."
You're thinking that I could stay after school to accomplish my tasks, but this year there isn't enough parking for teachers who didn't buy spots. I have to move my car 20 minutes after school so that the marching band can practice in the parking lot, otherwise it gets towed.
Are you laughing, yet?
That means I have to leave early on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. I do not have access to my computer except for during what's supposed to be my "duty free" lunch. In the mean time, jobs are not being accomplished and I am in trouble often with people who need my input to complete their tasks.
I am a good teacher and take pride in what I do, which is why it kills me to be mediocre for any reason, let alone because I am displaced and literally haven't figured out how I can accomplish my tasks without being in my classroom with all of my files and computer. My usual list of "things to do" isn't working since I can't get to what I need.
BUT
Today as I was stewing over this dilemma at lunch (the only time, other than the 8 minute passing period or Wednesday or Friday after school, that kids can come to me to discuss something they don't understand), a kid came to talk to me. The conversation went like this:
Lovely Kid: Hi Ms. H. May I get a pass to the library? I want to make sure to have my research done for tomorrow's class.
Me: Wow! That's super responsible! Of course I can write a pass for you!
[LK goes to the library and comes back later]
LK: Thanks for the pass, Mrs. H. And also, I wanted to say that the other day I think I spoke harshly to you when I said that I didn't get an assignment that you handed out to us. I probably did get it, but for the life of me, I can't find it.
Me: You know what? After class, I thought about it and wasn't sure if you did get the assignment since you entered my class later than the others, so I didn't penalize you for it.
LK: Well, whether I got the assignment or not, I should not have back talked you or had any sort of attitude about it, so I just wanted to apologize for that. I was having a really hard day, and, really, there is no excuse to talk to anyone like that. I'm sorry.
Me: (fumbling for words since this NEVER happens and since the incident about which he was speaking barely registered in my memory. plus confrontation is a daily occurrence in teaching, as is daily forgiveness) Ok. Thanks.
LK: I guess I better go eat lunch.
[Bell rings for class to start - too late for him to eat]
LK: Oh well.
Me: (Realizing that this kid doesn't get to eat lunch everyday for various reasons) Hey, do you like Goldfish crackers? I have an extra package of them and an apple. Are you hungry?
LK: (big grin) Thanks!
And that's it. This exchange erased all of the petty gripes I was internalizing today. All of that negative stuff is such shit compared to what teaching is really about! School isn't about assignments or grades or files or workspace or anything else. It's about sharing knowledge and life experiences. Yes, book learning happens in the classroom, but more than that, teaching is about helping kids to build strong personal foundations that they can reley on later when they need to make life changing decisions. Teaching is a service of sharing.
What a LOVELY kid!! I MUST hug his mother for teaching him such amazing manners. Because of kids like him, I think I'll survive the year, whether the lanyards are green or not.
I'll be the first to admit that people who have spent any time in my profession (i.e. longer than 3 years)may have shorter fuses than the rest of the population, save the postal service. And probably we drink more and binge eat more than folks in any other profession. And we may or may not have good reason to be cantankerous since our brand of "customer service" is different from any other kind. But I generally work really hard at avoiding that petty sort of pissy attitude. In fact, I'm the girl in the back of the faculty meeting who is laughing hysterically at those who are interrupting the meeting with "serious concerns" about the color of lanyards, which is why I hesitate to share what's coming next.
My patience has been tested. My job is HARD enough without the added constraints of tedious extra paperwork, special accommodations, in school suspension assignments, lunch monitoring, mothering, micromanaging, and everything else extra that we are "expected" to do. This year I do not have my conference periods in my classroom because other teachers have to float into it. That means that I do not have access to my files or to any paperwork that I forget to pack in the 8 minute passing period during which kids are climbing over each other to ask questions/have dialogue with me about grades, personal matters. etc. Forget about having a parent conference during my conference period. I have no place to conference. It's like telling an office executive, "You have to complete all of your tasks every day without the use of files, a phone, a computer, or a quiet workspace."
You're thinking that I could stay after school to accomplish my tasks, but this year there isn't enough parking for teachers who didn't buy spots. I have to move my car 20 minutes after school so that the marching band can practice in the parking lot, otherwise it gets towed.
Are you laughing, yet?
That means I have to leave early on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. I do not have access to my computer except for during what's supposed to be my "duty free" lunch. In the mean time, jobs are not being accomplished and I am in trouble often with people who need my input to complete their tasks.
I am a good teacher and take pride in what I do, which is why it kills me to be mediocre for any reason, let alone because I am displaced and literally haven't figured out how I can accomplish my tasks without being in my classroom with all of my files and computer. My usual list of "things to do" isn't working since I can't get to what I need.
BUT
Today as I was stewing over this dilemma at lunch (the only time, other than the 8 minute passing period or Wednesday or Friday after school, that kids can come to me to discuss something they don't understand), a kid came to talk to me. The conversation went like this:
Lovely Kid: Hi Ms. H. May I get a pass to the library? I want to make sure to have my research done for tomorrow's class.
Me: Wow! That's super responsible! Of course I can write a pass for you!
[LK goes to the library and comes back later]
LK: Thanks for the pass, Mrs. H. And also, I wanted to say that the other day I think I spoke harshly to you when I said that I didn't get an assignment that you handed out to us. I probably did get it, but for the life of me, I can't find it.
Me: You know what? After class, I thought about it and wasn't sure if you did get the assignment since you entered my class later than the others, so I didn't penalize you for it.
LK: Well, whether I got the assignment or not, I should not have back talked you or had any sort of attitude about it, so I just wanted to apologize for that. I was having a really hard day, and, really, there is no excuse to talk to anyone like that. I'm sorry.
Me: (fumbling for words since this NEVER happens and since the incident about which he was speaking barely registered in my memory. plus confrontation is a daily occurrence in teaching, as is daily forgiveness) Ok. Thanks.
LK: I guess I better go eat lunch.
[Bell rings for class to start - too late for him to eat]
LK: Oh well.
Me: (Realizing that this kid doesn't get to eat lunch everyday for various reasons) Hey, do you like Goldfish crackers? I have an extra package of them and an apple. Are you hungry?
LK: (big grin) Thanks!
And that's it. This exchange erased all of the petty gripes I was internalizing today. All of that negative stuff is such shit compared to what teaching is really about! School isn't about assignments or grades or files or workspace or anything else. It's about sharing knowledge and life experiences. Yes, book learning happens in the classroom, but more than that, teaching is about helping kids to build strong personal foundations that they can reley on later when they need to make life changing decisions. Teaching is a service of sharing.
What a LOVELY kid!! I MUST hug his mother for teaching him such amazing manners. Because of kids like him, I think I'll survive the year, whether the lanyards are green or not.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
THE Solution
I concluded that there is a way to achieve peace in this world, whether it be in our hearts, our families, our society, or on this globe. The answer is 'go back to the garden'. This should not be confused with, "Go and work in the garden," a metaphor you've probably heard me preach a billion times over, especially when I'm reading/teaching Candide. And though working in the garden IS SO VERY IMPORTANT in maintaining our current functionality, what I'm postulating now is very different - it's the solution.
If you'll remember, I have had such a cool opportunity to mull things over in recent conversations with my boss, and I make light of our sometimes ultra-silly conclusions. At the same time I've been reading some very serious Hemingway short stories about war and the lost generation (esp. "Under the Ridge" and "A Natural History of the Dead") and also Kurt Vonnegut's classic novel, Slaughterhouse-5. Of course, the news (CNN, NPR, BBC, ETC.) elbows its way into my brain, as do the words of Bishop Tutu ("The world is still good because the norm is not news!"). So I'm left with Light and Dark; Holy and Vile; Heaven and Hell... on earth. It's confusing. So instead of trying to combine all of these conflicting "ingredients" into a peaceful whole -a perfect peaceful souffle (if you will)- with the hopes that if we tip-toe around it long enough, it will not self-implode, we should implement the simple solution. That is go back to the garden - to Eden before Adam, before Eve, before Lilith or the snake or the apple or the fig or the shameful nakedness and banishment.
This idea occurred to me before I read this passage in the Vonnegut:
[Billy] came slightly unstuck in time, saw the late movie backwards, then forwards again. It was a movie about American bombers in the Second World War and the gallant men who flew them. Seen backwards by Billy, the story went like this:
American planes, full of holes and wounded men and corpses took off backwards from an airfield in England. Over France, a few German fighter planes flew at them backwards, sucked bullets and shell fragments from some of the planes and crewmen. They did the same for wrecked American bombers on the ground, and those planes flew backwards to join the formation.
The formation flew backwards over a German city that was in flames. The bombers opened their bomb bay doors, exerted a miraculous magnetism which shrunk the fires, gathered them into cylindrical steel containers, and lifted the containers into the bellies of the planes...
When the bombers got back to their base, the steel cylinders were taken from the racks and shipped back to the United States of America, where factories were operating night and day, dismantling the cylinders, separating the dangerous contents into minerals. Touchingly, it was mainly women who did this work. The minerals were then shipped to specialists in remote areas. It was their business to put them into the ground, to hide them cleverly, so they would never hurt anybody ever again.
The American fliers turned in their uniforms, became high school kids. And Hitler turned into a baby, Billy Pilgrim supposed. That wasn't in the movie. Billy was extrapolating. Everybody turned into a baby, and all humanity, without exception, conspired biologically to produce two perfect people named Adam and Eve, he supposed.
I know that I'm not the first to suggest going back to the garden. And though Vonnegut makes a brilliantly cogent point, he is forgetting one major problem: Adam and Eve fucked up. They were given a choice - free will: to eat the apple fig or not to eat it; to obliviously live in harmony with God or to want more than what they were given, and they made the incorrect choice.
Human nature always wants more, and to not want more takes tediously agonizing work, as changing our natures would do. When given the opportunity to make good decisions, we generally hose things up by desiring more, whether it be more knowledge, more love, more wealth, more land, more ____fill in the blank____ etc.. That means, therefore, that we have to go further back than what Vonnegut suggests- before man was created.
That means we don't get to exist. That means we wouldn't get to say anything poetic about yins or yangs or the balance of good and evil, sacrifice or selfishness, martyrdom or terrorism. We wouldn't get to experience hope or regret, love or hate, "affirmations or taxes". This would sound sad upon first reflection. But I think that knowing we wouldn't be missing anything -because we wouldn't exist -helps us to understand that peace is well worth the sacrifice.
So, let's do it. Let's go back to the garden so that we can attain peace on earth.
If you'll remember, I have had such a cool opportunity to mull things over in recent conversations with my boss, and I make light of our sometimes ultra-silly conclusions. At the same time I've been reading some very serious Hemingway short stories about war and the lost generation (esp. "Under the Ridge" and "A Natural History of the Dead") and also Kurt Vonnegut's classic novel, Slaughterhouse-5. Of course, the news (CNN, NPR, BBC, ETC.) elbows its way into my brain, as do the words of Bishop Tutu ("The world is still good because the norm is not news!"). So I'm left with Light and Dark; Holy and Vile; Heaven and Hell... on earth. It's confusing. So instead of trying to combine all of these conflicting "ingredients" into a peaceful whole -a perfect peaceful souffle (if you will)- with the hopes that if we tip-toe around it long enough, it will not self-implode, we should implement the simple solution. That is go back to the garden - to Eden before Adam, before Eve, before Lilith or the snake or the apple or the fig or the shameful nakedness and banishment.
This idea occurred to me before I read this passage in the Vonnegut:
[Billy] came slightly unstuck in time, saw the late movie backwards, then forwards again. It was a movie about American bombers in the Second World War and the gallant men who flew them. Seen backwards by Billy, the story went like this:
American planes, full of holes and wounded men and corpses took off backwards from an airfield in England. Over France, a few German fighter planes flew at them backwards, sucked bullets and shell fragments from some of the planes and crewmen. They did the same for wrecked American bombers on the ground, and those planes flew backwards to join the formation.
The formation flew backwards over a German city that was in flames. The bombers opened their bomb bay doors, exerted a miraculous magnetism which shrunk the fires, gathered them into cylindrical steel containers, and lifted the containers into the bellies of the planes...
When the bombers got back to their base, the steel cylinders were taken from the racks and shipped back to the United States of America, where factories were operating night and day, dismantling the cylinders, separating the dangerous contents into minerals. Touchingly, it was mainly women who did this work. The minerals were then shipped to specialists in remote areas. It was their business to put them into the ground, to hide them cleverly, so they would never hurt anybody ever again.
The American fliers turned in their uniforms, became high school kids. And Hitler turned into a baby, Billy Pilgrim supposed. That wasn't in the movie. Billy was extrapolating. Everybody turned into a baby, and all humanity, without exception, conspired biologically to produce two perfect people named Adam and Eve, he supposed.
I know that I'm not the first to suggest going back to the garden. And though Vonnegut makes a brilliantly cogent point, he is forgetting one major problem: Adam and Eve fucked up. They were given a choice - free will: to eat the apple fig or not to eat it; to obliviously live in harmony with God or to want more than what they were given, and they made the incorrect choice.
Human nature always wants more, and to not want more takes tediously agonizing work, as changing our natures would do. When given the opportunity to make good decisions, we generally hose things up by desiring more, whether it be more knowledge, more love, more wealth, more land, more ____fill in the blank____ etc.. That means, therefore, that we have to go further back than what Vonnegut suggests- before man was created.
That means we don't get to exist. That means we wouldn't get to say anything poetic about yins or yangs or the balance of good and evil, sacrifice or selfishness, martyrdom or terrorism. We wouldn't get to experience hope or regret, love or hate, "affirmations or taxes". This would sound sad upon first reflection. But I think that knowing we wouldn't be missing anything -because we wouldn't exist -helps us to understand that peace is well worth the sacrifice.
So, let's do it. Let's go back to the garden so that we can attain peace on earth.
Bliss List
☑ 1. Pretty Saturday morning sunrise
☑ 2. Sitting on the back patio - your favorite meditation spot
☑ 3. Cool hint of fall in the air
☑ 4. Softest pink pjs on the planet coordinated with the fuzzy pink slippers your mom gave you and the pink little house coat that your grandmother wore
☑ 5. Sipping warm vanilla coffee
☑ 6. Surrounded by books
☑ 7. Getting to write
☑ 8. Hearing the birds and the locusts
☑ 9. Smelling the dew and the wet summer earth
☑ 10.Feeling like today will be OK
☑ 2. Sitting on the back patio - your favorite meditation spot
☑ 3. Cool hint of fall in the air
☑ 4. Softest pink pjs on the planet coordinated with the fuzzy pink slippers your mom gave you and the pink little house coat that your grandmother wore
☑ 5. Sipping warm vanilla coffee
☑ 6. Surrounded by books
☑ 7. Getting to write
☑ 8. Hearing the birds and the locusts
☑ 9. Smelling the dew and the wet summer earth
☑ 10.Feeling like today will be OK
Friday, September 14, 2007
Homecoming '07
I'm such a goob. No matter how hard I fought it in high school and college, and no matter how many times I roll my eyes or say that I'm not one of those girls, I have to admit the disastrous, embarrassing truth: I LOVE homecoming. All of it. And yes, there is a football game (and I do love me some sports), but it's not all about the game or the pep rally or mums (remember mums?!!), etc.. I love the spirit of it - the idea that your extended family is coming home. Literally. It's one of the wonderful things that brings folks together, back to their communities, and our community is incredible.
Our school has a red wagon parade - any club who wants to participate decorates a wagon for the parade and then donates that wagon to charity. Included in the festivities are, of course, a pep rally complete with alumni (dating all the way back to the 1940 graduating class!), an insane number of cheerleaders (as only Texas would require), the band, drill team, and football team (also Texas style), but there's some sort of magic in the whole. Ergo, I ♥ homecoming. The game is tonight. I'll let you know how we do. Kick 'em Colts!!
Our school has a red wagon parade - any club who wants to participate decorates a wagon for the parade and then donates that wagon to charity. Included in the festivities are, of course, a pep rally complete with alumni (dating all the way back to the 1940 graduating class!), an insane number of cheerleaders (as only Texas would require), the band, drill team, and football team (also Texas style), but there's some sort of magic in the whole. Ergo, I ♥ homecoming. The game is tonight. I'll let you know how we do. Kick 'em Colts!!
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