Select Cycle

The Laundromat is a strangely beautiful place on a rainy evening.

The strange non-verbal interactions that take place between customers and the groaning silence of the few working machines create a strange feeling of warmth and safety.

flickering off-white lights drone through this ambiance. Cars speed madly from place to place, without pondering the simple beauty of this place.

I will sit and breathe in the strange elegance of a rainy night in the laundromat.

Quite a Day

I just got finished with my conference-style day and I just thought I would share some of the experiences that I had:

There was one of my favorite student's mother who came in, unable to concentrate on what I was saying because she was waiting on a call from his doctor to find out if the body in his head was a tumor or just a clump of fat. I couldn't imagine going through that.

Her son is the sweetest boy. He plays mandolin and guitar (how can I not like that). He had brain surgery last year to get a cancerous body out of his head. He now forgets things and has to wear an eye patch to see correctly, but he is an incredible writer--like professional level description and character depth, its amazing. I was almost moved to tears when I found out that I'm his favorite teacher and he tells me things that he never tells his mom, like how afraid he is of the MRI that he had yesterday.

Then there was the mother who screamed at her son through the speaker of my cell phone. She couldn't make it, but wanted to be included. He isn't doing well, but she's a bit harsh. I must've had a look that was somewhere between, "yeah you better shape up" and "I'm so sorry dude."

And my favorite, one of my favorite students and her two moms, who are really great. She's been slacking lately but will graduate eventually. I asked her what she wants to do with her life and she said, " I want to be an English teacher Daren, like you." almost in tears, I wanted to say, "Then why the hell don't you do any of the work in my class!:)"

I think she'll make a great English teacher--one day.

Then there's another one of my favorites who played a guard in the recent production of Dead Man Walking. He is an amazing boy, who lost his brother to gang violence and lives in the craziest household I've ever heard of. Mom, Dad, Mom's boyfriend, adopted son and his coke addicted girlfriend. Even his dad told me, "home is not a safe place."

It breaks my heart but I don't know if he'll ever graduate because of the states new no child left behind requirements. He still struggles with reading the newspaper.

Thats my day in a nutshell


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Now playing: Bon Iver - The Wolves (Act I and II)
via FoxyTunes

A Strange incidence

For Some reason I always want to begin these entries with "So" as if I am finishing a thought, but it seems so unprofessional and repetitive.

So, I got my ipod Stolen at school last week. Now, although Meghan may contest, I pride myself in not being an excessive consumer, but if you know anything about me and music you know that my two most prized posessions are my guitar and my ipod. So, I was a little dissapointed. More than just a little dissapointed I felt that this was the back-breaking straw that make me decide it was time to leave my school. Then there was this strange turn of events.

One of my favorite, most respectful, kindest students somehow ended up with a new ipod this week. She used it in her presentation in class, and told me that her boyfriend gave it to her. I have to say, I was not the least bit suspicious, but I still had to write down as much of the serial number as I could see.

As it turns out, the serial number matched, exactly with mine. I was surprised more than anything. How could one of my favorite students end up with my ipod? I must have written down the wrong serial number. But no, my mistakes did not add up. She somehow ended up with my ipod.

Our principal confiscated it and her boyfriend came in to talk to her about it. It turns out he found it outside of his Cabrillo class, and decided it would be a good gift for her. (can you sense the sarcasm in my writing?)

My principal thinks that he is covering for her and she actually stole it.

I have no idea what to do. I'm still a little shocked. I don't feel the need to force an apology, but I need her to know she broke my trust. I will talk to her tomorrow and it should be interesting.

She is the last one I would ever suspect. I just wonder if theft gives kids a sense of power or stability that they cant find anywhere else. I'm not mad, but I am happy to have my ipod back.


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Now playing: Breathe Owl Breathe - Sylvia Plath
via FoxyTunes