Stealy Dan (life)

My favorite radio station is playing Donald Fagen and I am having
Stealy Dan flashbacks. I was subject to hours of forced Stealy Dan
exposure through my parents' music choice when I was a child. I wanted
to listen to Sesame Street--Solid Gold (Cookie Monster sings disco
classics) and got Aja instead. No good.

I am sure if I was in my early adulthood when they came out, I would
be impressed with some of their musical qualities. But to my ears,
they sound over-produced, pop-y, and trite. I'm consistently not a fan.
They are often played in the background when you are out (as they are
elevator music-ish) and I often have the knee-jerk "bad music"
reaction prior to realizing that it is a Stealy Dan song.

The radio is trying to make it up to me by playing Joni Mitchell. I am
not sure I am ready to forgive.

Real Genius (life/teaching)

I recently had the opportunity to wax poetic (IM style) with a friend about the merits of Real Genius; it provides me with many opportunities for random thougths throughout my life. In addition to the obvious popcorn visual, that guy who lived in the wall and got an RV because he figured out the mathematical aspect of no-purchase-necessary contests wanders through my mind every once in a while. Recently, I have been channeling his approach. I have registered myself for the entire Neil Young diskography, entered my school for a personal appearance from a famous childrens author, and tried to outfit my classroom with my wildest with crayola fueled dreams. Now, if I could reproduce the guy's success rate. But, I can't even get my taxes together. So, the motivation for multiple postcards is just too much to think about.

Thumbsucker (life)

It's a beautiful day...lots of sun, temperature pushing 60, total lack of the that urine smell that can sometime permeate the air in my neck of the woods. After a quick stop at my local grocery, I was almost run over by a Jetta while crossing the street. I always like to get a look at the person who almost killed me, so I took a close look. Turns out the driver was sucking her thumb.

As a former thumbsucker, I have been known to store my index finger around my nose and thumb tucked under my chin while I sleep. But, that really only happens in an un-to-semi-conscious state. It was very surprising to me to see a person old enough to drive with her thumb stuck in her mouth. In many was I was impressed--she was a dedicated thumb sucker, unafraid for the social and orthodontic repercussions of her actions. But, still...she was old enough to drive.

Purple people eater (life)

This morning, while I was semiconscious in the shower, I looked down and saw that the area above my hip had a strange purple-ish tint. At first, I thought that the water was too hot. Since I am what some people would call very pale, you can often see my skin change color from things like hot water, accidental scratches, direct sunlight, etc. Upon closer inspection, I realized the purple color was not confined to the spots the water was hitting. In fact, most of my torso was purple.

Turns out, my new purple t-shirt left a mark. All of the skin that came into direct contact with the shirt now has a hint of purple. I kind of like the effect.

Coteaching (teaching, as if you could not guess this one)

I am the special education component of collaborative team teaching arrangement. I have a coteacher and, between us, we have 24 students with a variety of needs. I cotaught with a different woman last year. After two years of this type of classroom, I have learned that I hate coteaching. I teach with a very nice person and we have had moments where it really made sense. But, I have this nagging suspicion that my coteacher doesn't really believe in/like special education. Maybe I would have a different opinion if I was working with someone who has been taught the same things I have been taught about teaching...my coteacher has found one thing that really works for her, and has worked for the past 20 years, and is not really interested in changing anything.

Unfortunately, that means I can passively accept her way of doing things. Or, I can fight for what I want to see happen. She has given me one day to show her what I am talking about when I say things like teach writing and teach math. By the way, if a teacher ever tells you "show me," know it is the most passive aggressive thing a teacher will do to you. It really means, "I'd like to see you try to do things better than I can do them."

Despite a spike in the professional aggravation, much joy was a part of my day. It came from things like a random student requesting a high-five in the hallway after school, using a quick check edit sheet with my students and seeing them really use the check sheet to make their writing better, having a student really get his mouth ready to say a word and then watching him read words, helping kindergartners up the stairs, and hanging up the hexagon a student made out of 14 straws and a twist ties.

to make me feel better (life)

As if she knew I was feeling sad, my aunt sent this little video. It made me feel better.

If you watch the whole thing, you will be treated to the amazing sights during Ringo's solo and when George really tears into it....

sick iBook (everything)

I have been an iBook owner for less than 3 months--enough time to
completely fall in love. I'm currently having some type of pixel
problem and am so very sad. My apple care person is trying to help me
now. Please think good thoughts.

title (teaching)

For many years, I had difficulty describing my job to people. I coordinated, worked with communities, wrote curriculum, and facilitated my way to being a project specialist at one job. I worked as a go-between for international students, their parents, the Americans they lived with and little companies from around the globe to be a student services coordinator. I organized events, coordinated napkins, and trained interns as an Assistant Director. No one really understood what I was doing. I longed for the day when I could say what I was in one word and people would understand.

Now, I'm a first-grade teacher. Everyone has interacted with a first-grade teacher. Most of the time, it happened when they were six. I think that people view my job with their six-year old eyes--complete with flashbacks to tall women, who held their hand, and talked in a soft voice.

I view my job with the eyes of a 29-year-old. I see first grade as a time to teach children to read, to help them develop the skills they will need for the rest of their lives, and a daily struggle between chaos and learning. I spend my energy trying to figure out how to best help the student who tries so hard and still cannot write with vowels. I struggle to figure out how I can package the process of reading more effectively to help my students learn to see the patterns in at the words around them. I try to bring patience, understanding, and awareness to each moment. I often fail, forget and overlook. But, I keep trying. And, they are learning.

Last night, I was asked if my students napped and asked to tell stories about the funny things they do by a stranger who found out I was a teacher. I felt like I made characters of my students and myself. I feel like I should be able to give people a more accurate description of my job, so that people do not have to perpetuate their somewhat misguided views of what the world of education looks like right now. But, I have to worry about knowing exactly where 24 individuals are in their literacy development, figure out how to teach the concept of polygons most effectively, and try to incorporate technology in the classroom, while maintaining an environment that promotes kindness, democracy, and civil society.

collection of thougths (life)

Ok. I went out last night and had much St. Patrick's Day fun. I meet firefighters from Orlando who had marched in the parade. I heard a band play. While normally, I do not really love the idea of a cover band, the opportunity to hear a James song, followed by Led Zeppelin, followed by a song from the Breakfast Club was actually just what I wanted to hear. The lead singer wore a lot of eye makeup and had a faux hawk. Ever since the Cure, a man who has perfected the smoky eye look really does something for me.

I came home, went to bed, and woke up at 6 this morning. My response to a night out was to watch the first disk of Frontier House with my roommate this morning. Here are some highlights of my running commentary of the morning and reflections on an evening out:

*My roommate has access to a whole lot of me. Since living with her, I have realized that I am a crier. I cry a lot. Not heaving sobs. But, tears (and she says unintelligible language). I cry because of movies (Miracle, the Hurricane)...well, that's basically it. Oh, wait, Oprah's 20 anniversary special also made me cry. And, also, anytime someone tells me good news, like they are getting married, is having a baby, or does something they are proud of. I cry like a baby. Before living with someone, I was not so aware of when I cried. Now, that there is someone watching and I feel the need to share my emotions mid-cry, I really amazed at how much I leak the tears.

*Sweet-haat. I was repeatedly called this during the evening by a man that started out at nice and normal and ended up being crazy-jealous-guy. He was ready to fight people and taxis, very touchy--tried to serve as my human seatbelt, and kept talking crazy. I had no idea that I could have my flight response kick in to hearing things that should be nice in a very different context (i.e. encouraging me to take a taxi home instead of walking, asking me what kind of flowers I like, and discussing our time on the alter together). But, not so much last night. One very funny thing that happened was when my friend described me as an atheist, but she really meant pacifist, and he had had to take her to the side and find out if I really didn't do the God thing. Funny.

*Frontier house is great. Those people are amazing. And, I love the whole Nate and Kristin relationship. Very nice. So good to see people open with one another. If I don't stop, I'm going to start crying again.

*I'm now a little bit nervous about the bridges around me. Last night, another crazy man I met was a Turkish engineer who designed bridges. He offered me crazy drugs and I had to point him away from me with my best first-grade teacher speak--"You, go there." This guy is responsible for keeping zillions of people alive as the cross bridges. What is he doing altering his state?!

Now, I'm running late. I am supposed to be at my family's house in 2 hours for our annual corned beef and cabbage and I'm not even close to ready to go. Ah!

The Reading Writing Project (teaching)

If you want to teach someone to read, you must be a reader. If you want to teach someone to write, you need to dedicate yourself to the craft of writing. This blog began as my experiment to see if I could incorporate writing in to my day. Now, the blog has become a featured player in my life. It is something I look forward to doing, something that has become a true hobby.

Today, I went to a workshop by the TC Reading Writing Project. As I was thinking about the process of writing during a workshop, two thoughts came to mind. There was a blogger who lived in my neighborhood who followed all the rules on successful blogging; she blogged on a regular basis, was interesting and funny. Then, she moved to Vermont. When she blogs now, it is about the hikes she has taken and food she has made. That's it. No daily update on things to do, musing about her environment. It seems to me that this blogger has become less focused on writing about her world and more focused on living in her world.

Then, I happened to come across another NYC blogger who described herself as an agoraphobe. Whether it was in jest or not, it made me think of the space I put between myself and the world. I have tried to make my apartment a haven from the surrounding world. I do believe that, sometimes, I am much too successful at that effort. I could not escape from the fact that maybe my place is causing me this distance. Maybe I'd be a very different me if I was someplace else.

Finally, the reading part of my title. I sat next to two women during the conference. One had taught for 30 years and the other had probably taught for a few years more. One in Bushwick and the other in the South Bronx. One loved teaching, her students, and seemed to have created a wonderful learning environment for her children. The other was overwhelmed. She did not seem able to incorporate or understand the new ideas she was being forced to use in her classroom. She did not like her students. And, she could not believe that anyone else was able to teach in these new ways. One could not wait to retire. The other was conflicted with the idea of not giving and getting love from her students.

What is it that makes one teacher so successful and the other so overwhelmed? What characteristics allow for someone to be open to ways to make their teaching more effective? What happens to make someone cling to their past? I wonder what kind of teacher I will become in a year, in a decade. I wish there was some way for me to mold myself in the model of the loving teacher I talked with today, become effective, poetry in motion. We will just have to wait and see.

the biopic (life)

Netflix has been a good addition to my life. I recently watched two amazing films, both in the biopic genre. Walk the Line made me remember how much I love Johnny Cash. Last year, I read Shakey (the 800 page biography about Neil Young) and was amazed at how much I did not know about the context of his life. Walk the Line as similar for me and Johnny Cash.

The Hurricane had me in tears; the emotion was not just do to the fact that I often cry during sports related movies. The first time I had heard of Ruben Carter's story was through music. My brother once gave me a CD with Ani DiFranco covering the Dylan song. Then, I listened to the words I had grown up hearing (my parents went through a very long Dylan phase, which I did not appreciate at the time). I was moved by the dedication and focus of each person involved and the lives they lived.

While not a biopic, Saving Grace was a very good response to the day. For some reason, I forget that I enjoy the comedy and default to the documentary or drama when I choose movies. This movie had one of the best monologues I've heard. Very funny.

the events of the day...well, select events, anyway (life/teaching)

While being far from the best day, it was not the worst. The following random collection of things helped keep the dreary at bay.

* I thought that a man in the deli was crazy; he kept repeating strange, disconnected phrases and was crouched down by the dorittos for a long time. Turns out he had a bluetooth phone thing attached to his head. I used to answer people who were talking on handsfree. Now, probably due to the urban environment surrounding me, I just think they are crazy.
* I sat next to a friend during a professional development thing and learned an interesting little fact. Turns out Boston once experienced a molasses disaster. In 1919, some type of tank exploded and molasses moved through the city at a speed of 35 mph. It was actually a very serious thing. But, the image of a wave of molasses taking over the city is just a little funny.
* My little sister is continuing her role as most technically advanced of us all. She is my family's early adopter. And, she got a 4 on her state math test. She is very excited.

Some bad news for me...it turns out it might not be best to deliberate over decisions. Now, how am I going to justify my extensive mulling over process to others?

Coffee, coffee, coffee (life)

I don't know if it was because of the weekend events or the coffee/baked goods/grapes combo I've consumed today....but, I am in a bit of a state of flutter. I have been the poster child for unsuccessful multitaskers for most of the afternoon. Since I came back from visiting good friends in New England, I have worked with two computers simultaneously, have begun approximately 750 sentences which will never know their end, and have only done one of the things I've deemed absolutely critical for the day.

Now, I'm blogging to help me prepare my being for some good old fashioned hard work. [Really, we all know blogging is procrastination. But, I am going to assume that those of you who read this blog are well versed in the art of procrastination and I need not justify myself for that here.]

The weekend was filled with friends who are forming families. Babies are being born, children are growing, and people are settling. I feel as if my lifestyle is unique amongst some friends. My friends who are mothers get to enjoy the prospect of traveling for a month, eating out at new restaurants, and my less-than-slick approach to men through my stories. I get to enjoy the baby love, hearing of the humor that only children can bring, and the beauty of forming a family through theirs. They don't have to feel the anxiety of uncertainty and lack of connection. I don't have to feel the depth of panic that comes from not knowing if you are doing all you need to do to keep another person and family thriving.

Through the differences, we are all still able to truly enjoy one another. Some of these friends have been mine for twelve years. They have insight into who I am because they know who I was, the steps I have taken, and how my dreams have changed. These women and men bring such sincerity and love to my life. I am lucky to have them all.

In reference to the previous post (life)

Don't you think that these guys need to live in a place that lets them
discover that they are champion tree jumpers?

By the way, I have just learned of the beauty that is wireless internet access. I am on my balcony, updating my blog/putting CDs into iTunes/doing reading for class. I love the slash nature of this moment.

blood sugar (life)

I spent the day dedicated to learning if my body is or is not processing its sugars well. As a result, I am light headed and woozy. My response to this feeling has been to eat bean burritos, tomato soup, and drink coffee. That is basically my response to most things in life; it works too well too often for me to give the approach up to other methods.

Last night, finding myself in the middle of Manhattan with nothing on my list to do and temperatures which had pushed past freezing, I decided to walk the thirty or so blocks to the subway stop by Central Park. The walk/ride home had good imagery (a person carrying a huge bag on their head, people discussing ranching as they zoomed past the skyline, jumpy tourist with looks of mistrust being replaced with looks of gratitude as I directed them to Times Square, and buildings that looked different because of the clouds in the sky). But, it was filled with thoughts of place.

I think that I am on a permanent search for my physical and existential place in this life. Recently, I have become fixated on the idea of finding a physical community which allows you to maximize your life. If you find peace in mountains, live in Bozeman. If you cannot live without politeness, perhaps Wichita is for you. What does this all mean for me? I feel the most when I am with the people I care about [those people cover all the major geographic regions of the country] and know that it is best for me to be outside as much as I can [the closest I come to religious experience is always during something found outside]. More and more I have the feeling of floating, not connecting to my current place.

All this being said, I also know that I have a strong sense of flight. I do not wish to confront situations. I would much rather run away. Maybe all of these daydreams of place are all about feeling unsettled in my life and wishing to change everything rather than trying to figure out how I can make things work here....

the need for a geek (life)

I'm having small technical difficulties and I am in need of someone
who speaks computer. My own vocabulary is somewhat limited...growing
in many ways, but limited none the less. I am caught up in the wish of
knowing more. But, it's kind of like French; I want to be fluent but I
don't want to put in the work.

One more thing (completely unrelated to the last). At the end of the
day, one of my more huggie students and I were waiting for his mother
to come and he told me his technique for writing things correctly.
[These are as close to his words as I can get them.]
"I use my brain. I don't think. I use my brain. I ask a question and a
little guy runs around and sends me the answer. He lives in my brain."
I then told him of the little girl that used to live in my brain. She
had a typewriter and an extensive filing system. When I had a
question, she would type the answer and send it out on my tongue. Unfortunatly, this technique no longer works for me. If it did, she would totally be hooking me up with my technical issue.

Instead of taking a quiz, a person could....(life)

I have a quiz due tomorrow. It's several pages and I have yet to look at the paper. But, I have done some things that have made me a better person. I have talked about the functioning of the amygdala, which until today I had never heard of and now love (all thanks to my amygdala, by the way), compared and contrasted the top 100 places for commuting time/best educated/most racially diverse/largest percentage of males, learned about a local imam, and made some jambalaya like stuff. I've also decided that the blog needs an update.

I am far from motivated in my academic life this semester. I have three semesters left and I am ready to be done. But...I have three semesters left and I need to keep up apperances.

Oh, I'm in such need of distraction.

Sunday (life)

I had a bit of a perfect Sunday today. I did many of my favorite things and discovered a new level of love for the iPod. But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

For the past few weeks, the northeast has been trying it's hardest to live up to the whole winter thing. I have been cold inside and cold outside for many days. The frigid wind, ice storms, and snow all caused me to drive my car short distances, hibernate inside, and question my sanity when I actually left my apartment. This weekend, it was different. With only three layers (and without my usual hat/scarf/mitten combo), I became reacquainted with my neighborhood and remembered that I love to walk. I walked to the store, to meet a friend for brunch, and just be out and about. And, when I was by myself, I put in my earbuds and walked to my own personal soundtrack. All of the white noise and aggression of my city became distant, allowing me to become an observer of things and people rather than actively inconvenienced by others. The iPod is making me love my city again. It's as good as the time I figured out that I could use power tools for my sculpture class if I put on protective earware; loud noise scares me.

After some cafe con leche and Mister Fabulous (fruit and granola) from my favorite restaurant, I headed to my family's house for family time. We ate a big meal, we argued, we shared small space, and we gave a 5 person running commentary on the Oscars. It was perfect.

Over focused on empty dilemmas (teaching)

I have spent much of the past week thinking about having my own classroom and wondering how I am going to manage to survive a semester filled with 7-9 Tuesdays. I have also faced a child who was forgotten by her mother for many hours, a system that seems not to value the my role as a teacher of children who have different needs, and my own lack of knowledge of how to address students' needs appropriately. Is the overwhelming job at hand causing me to get caught up in the thoughts that don't really matter? The other things are just too hard.

mentors (teaching)

For the past year and a half, I have had a university provided mentor to help me become a better teacher. She is old-school; she was a principal of another school for many years and that fact oozes from her being. She has high expectations, amazing ideas, and a no-nonsense attitude that doesn't stop. She is also well versed in the back-handed compliment. In the past, when she has said something good about my teaching, it usually also includes the words "anal retentive" or "much better than last year." Today, she actually told me that I am a good teacher. While I still disagree, it was so nice to get that feedback from someone who has probably caused more teachers to cry than anyone else I know.

One of my mentor's official capacities is to meet with my principal to discuss the state of affairs in my classroom. In the past, my mentor has accused my principal of being out of compliance with federal mandates, has demanded to know who my vice principal was, and has caused me to have to put out several fires after she leaves. This time, I think that it is possible they had a good conversation. I'm anxious for my principal to have a good sense of how I am doing in the classroom right now. She is engaged in her reorganization for next year and I am very interested in being in my own classroom. For the past two years, I have co-taught with two different general education teachers. The woman I work with this year has taught me many things that I should be doing. The woman I worked with last year showed me that good intentions mean nothing in a classroom if they are not linked to much, much more. I would like to have the opportunity to see if I can manage things on my own, to truly take the responsibility for what happens in my classroom.

Ok, enough of this...I'm being distracted by what I think is the worlds darkest credit card commercial on my nightly news podcast. I have to go focus on that right now.