Memories

walking up Ditmars for the last time.
a perfect night in the Beer Garden.
walking to escape the noise of angry downstairs neighbors.
dancing on the counter over the sink.
laughing.
pretending to choose a restaurant and always ending up at Fattys.
consistently thinking it's only a 20 minute walk no matter where i was going.
driving friends home.
fellows propaganda on the subway.
renaming diners to meet our needs.
being serenaded by the latest Cypriot dance music blasting from the cars that go by.
the dog that always sits on his front porch with his front paws crossed.
seeing my students in Astoria Park.
my official tour of Astoria.
running into shop keepers I know on the street.
knowing that spring is here when the fig trees are taken out of the plastic wrap with a bucket on top.
teaching.
making mistakes that helped me figure out what i want.
leaving my 20s.
loving my 30s.

now, i'm moving to new memories. good-bye Astoria.

Moving (part 3)

Packing has continued to be the main theme of my life. I have somehow managed to stuff the remaining things I own into several more boxes and a few suitcases. It feels as if I have not really done much. But, I know that's not true. It just so happens that I had an unforgivable amount of crap. This crap was getting in my way of having a harmonious existences. But, now most of it is gone. I am beginning again. And, I'm overwhelmingly excited. I just wish that the stuff I still have laying around would jump into a bag or box on it's own. I need movers. Or an assistant. Or elves.

PS Last night I realized that the two camps of musical taste are not Beatles vs. Stones. It's Neil Diamond vs. Neil Young. I'm a Young.

Sisters

I'm on the air mattress, listening to the thunder and sisters. My sisters are in the other room, watching some old-timey game show they both seem to love, laughing and talking about things only they understand. It has become a tradition of ours to spend the last few days of my school year together. They get to be loved by my class, not eat the vegetables mandated by mom, and just spend time together doing nothing. I love these days. My sisters are entertainment in a way few others are (to me, at least). The first time they came, they were getting ready for 8th and 10th grades. This time, it is 10th and first year of college. They have changed so much.

Now, they are packing to go home. I'm sad to let them go but am excited for their trip to LA.

Random notes

Tomorrow is my last day as a teacher in Queens. I'm not all caught up in that quite yet. But, I'm sure it's on it's way. Rather than reflect on my life as a teacher, I'm going to give you a list. [As a fan of the reflection, this is a bit of a surprise for me.]

• I'm living without surfaces. I have one chair, my roommate's couch, a folding table and the floor. The floor is catching quite a bit.
  
• I am warm...summer is here and I'm already not sure if I'm loving it. This, of course, is trouble for my upcoming relocation to southern California.
  
• I wrote a little mini-essay about my love of the SmartBoard on some applications and it is possible that this will cause me to get a job. Which is good because I cannot imagine teaching without one.
  
• My sisters are here. Despite some minor moments of bickering, we've been having good times. They are my people.
• My crankiness has been replaced by excitement. I'm excited to have fun again. And, I like to fun. A lot.
  

Vocabulary Lesson

I had an unexpected semi-interview over the phone today. The good news is that my portfolio is generating some interest. The bad news is that I broke some linguistic taboos during the conversation. Besides half finishing two sentences and cutting the woman off more than once (she was a long-pauser and I was nervous), it seems I do not have some of the basic LA pronunciations down.

I think of the word Wilshire as a three syllable word with a long i. Turns out it is a two syllable word with a short i. The woman I was being semi-interviewed by was kind enough to point it out to me. However, I'm not sure if it was really kind. She is the director of a religious school and my lack of enthusiasm about teaching reading and religion was not really sitting well with her.

PS
There is now a little pesty part of me that wants to call the street Will-sh-eye-r and myself an Angelo. We'll see how long that lasts.

What remains of my bedroom

After instituting a strict no-Ikea-kept policy, my phyisical possessions are thinning out. This is all that remains of my bed/dresser. In a few short hours, the bookshelf, desk, kitchen table and chairs will all be gone. In-house camping will be my way until next Monday.

Packing

I am sitting amidst my remaining possessions. Although they have been greatly reduced in number, they are still a little overwhelming. I have yet to figure out exactly how I'm going to get myself and my things to CA--will my files be mailed or come on a plane? How should my CDs be packed for minimal destruction? Part of the problem is the fact that I don't know my end number of boxes. The other part of the problem is that my teaching stuff is out of control. At this point in my life, I find it hard to believe that there was a time that I did not have shark and frong dissection models, musical instruments, and many pounds of books on teaching methods.

I just need to get it done. Pack it up. Don't worry too much about making sure I have access to everything I might need for the first few weeks in CA. And, maybe throw some more stuff out. It's time to be ruthless--let go of all emotional connection to things...and get myself to California in 9 days!

End of the Year Party

Today, my class and I had a discussion about our end of the year party. Each of my students came up with three things that could be a part of our "Perfect End of the Year Party." My personal favorites were: balloon party (despite my slight fear of balloons), sleep party-2 votes, and big cake. After the brainstorming, we matched, re-grouped and came up with our final party plan.

Next Tuesday, we will have a 3 period party. 7th period will be the food portion of our party. We'll be enjoying pizza and ice cream. 8th period will be the dance party/play time. We will live it up, dancing our way to our 37 1/2 minute portion of the party. [For those of you who are not used to dealing with my employers, I have a 37 1/2 minute portion of each day between Monday and Thursday. This is when I am supposed to provide targeted academic support.] Next Tuesday, we'll be enjoying 37 1/2 minutes of movie and rest. It will be our rest period of the party. I think all elementary school parties should have rest periods.

End of Year Award

Tomorrow, my class will have an awards ceremony. I have been having difficulty figuring out what to give as awards. I had a 4th grade trauma--I got the "no more tears" award because I cried each day and my teacher wanted me to stop crying (as a teacher, I now realize she probably hated me).

More importantly, I feel like the whole concept of competitive awards for a nine year old can be a little damaging. I am a little against the whole judgment aspect. I don't want to call one of my students the best at something, causing someone else to feel like their efforts are less-than. I know that sounds a little post-modern parent--but their little faces will just break your heart.

I have to figure out 2 awards for each student. This is like choosing your favorite child. Impossible.

My Desk, revisited

A few months ago, my parents cleaned out their basement. As a result, a ton of stuff that had called the basement home came back my way. I also received the edict that nothing belonging to me could return home. My things were kicked out.

It's fair. I'm 30. I should have my own junk. Plus, since my family shares my problem of making every object an object of importance, I should support all of their efforts to clean house.

My mother has decided to reverse the rule for one thing--my desk. It seems my family is willing to store my desk. I don't have to sell it to the only bidder (there has not been a whole lot of interest, a la Craig's list). My desk will stay in my family...just in the basement.

Ethical Dilemma

In this, the year 2007, we are all well versed in the finer points of Criag's list. It's the source of apartments, jobs, all sorts of encounters...We also know that we are not supposed to actually trust anyone. Only accept cash, don't deal with anyone outside of the area, etc, etc. Somehow I hit the ethical jackpot with my car ad. I have three people interested in my Honda-a Buddhist hospice worker, a teacher from the mid-west, and a doctor from Kuala Lumpur. I had really nice conversations with all of them. Now, I have ethical dilemma. How do you choose between the nice man from Malaysia, the Bronx teacher, or the hospice worker?

PS The doctor is a new driver...new like his license is one month old. It was a little nerve wracking to take him on his test drive. But, I'm sure he'll be fine.

Reality TV

I am late to the game on the whole reality TV thing. I watched an episode of the first season of Survivor, thought I was witnessing the destruction of humanity and stopped watching. But, now it's back. I justify it by saying it's research for my new life. I'm moving to LA...they are all shot in LA. Reality TV is research for my life to come.

It sometimes makes me nervous. I am not like the people on the TV-a professional tanner/rock star/hairstylist. What will the people in LA think of me? I think I'll just need to watch some more TV to find out.

PS Countdown to LA - 21 days.

Junk

As I continue the packing extravaganza, I am amazed at the amount of junk I have. Old papers. Books I will never read again. Containers. All of those will meet their end in the shredder or yard sale. Then there is the knick-knack issue. I have tons of little things without a use. I am not sure how so many of these things became a part of my life. Right now, I am not a fan. I'm actually kind of amazed at the lack of sentimental connection I have to these things--I'm excited for the opportunity to leave these things behind and have a literal clean slate.

I am hoping that this move can help me remember to let things go. And inspire me to be a regular yard sale holder. Or just have a level of quality control that seems to be lacking in my life up to now.

Moving to LA

It's happening. I'm moving to LA. More boxes have been packed. A plan has been made for the pre-garage sale activities. Although my life in LA is still missing some elements (a job, a car, etc.), I think it will be good.

PS I started this last night prior to packing the boxes. It was a much different blog at that time. Much more freaked out. Packing boxes is good for me.

My Desk

When I was 11, I asked my parents for a desk. I was graduating elementary school and felt I needed some place to do my school work. 2 years later, an antique roll top desk became a part of my world. Most 13 year-olds don't have major furniture. I did. I love it-it was almost big enough for me to lay on top of and I had no idea a desk like this existed.

Several years later, I graduated college and my parents no longer wanted custody of my desk. It's 50 inches wide, 50 inches high and 34 inches deep. It's huge. My sisters needed the space. So I moved the desk to DC, moved it again when I moved to a new neighborhood, then it came back to NY, then to Astoria and finally landed in it's current home. I have squished it into a galley like bedroom in a basement apartment, watched as two strong people huffed it up to my 3rd floor apartment, and felt a growing sense of guilt as I continued to ask my dad to help me take it apart and schlep it to my new home. Well, the only help I provide is with the draws. I am dangerous when it comes to the real heavy parts.

Now that I'm moving to LA, I've decided it's time to let my desk go-despite the love in my heart. It has become an albatross around my neck, making it incredibly clear that I do not have a lifestyle that supports an antique roll top desk. I'm a mover. My desk needs a home with it's own room. I hope who ever gets it next loves it as much as I do and gives me enough money to be a substantial part of a down payment on a new car. [The Honda is going, too. I just see that as a chance to upgrade to power windows rather than loosing a part of my history.]

English Language Learners

My life is filled with multi-lingual people. The majority of my students speak another language at home. I live in a place where the boat that a person is fresh off of docks. I hear more languages than I can place on my mile walk to the subway. It's my anthropological dream.

Being surrounded by so many who are at different stages of learning English often brings unexpected dialogue to my world. I was supposed to meet my landlord's son at my apartment after school. I ran into him as he was leaving. I told him that I was sorry I missed him, he replied, "I miss you, too." Such a sweet sentiment kind of misdirected.

Prior to the missing conversation, my student had a more difficult moment with the nuance of language. While he was waiting for the bus, saw me as I returned to the lunchroom and shouted, "She kicked me in the [insert word for a part that is normally covered by a bathing suit]!" He quickly repeated it to anyone who would listen. I then looked at the guidance counselor and said, "You have this one, right?" Then my student gave me a hug goodbye and sat down for a little conversation about the words you can use in school and the ones you cannot.

29 Days...and counting.

I am moving from one coast to the other in exactly 29 days. Goodbye rainy Sundays...hello sunny everyday. I am sure that my world will be filled with all sorts of differences--hikes, sunscreen all year round, hobbies rather than school work, HBO, Guitar Hero, shorts...Dave. I am excited.

I have at least 30 days of a sublet all worked out, have let go of my Mini dreams, and had a great interview with a placement agency. 5 boxes of my most important books have been mailed. My favorite mixing bowls and the shoes I wanted to wear this weekend already live in CA. If I keep doing a little bit each day, I think I'll be ready for my life on the left coast very soon. Whoo hoo.