I am an educator who recently left California to explore the Pacific Northwest and Portland. I reflecting on my transition and my personal and professional life
In an effort to slide down the last post, to push it out of my life; its time for a little reflection:
I love this time of year. When the air gets cold and the it hurts a little to get out of bed. Its been a little strange this year, with winter just on the edge--not quite ready to commit. But with this weekend, and this last week I've really felt winter in the air.
As much as Meghan will deny it, I kinda like Christmas time. I don't like the commercial side of it, but I like the warm feeling it brings, and the anticipation. And walking through union square in SF even makes me like the commercial side of it (just a little bit)
Winter moves slowly, like a poem, gently leaving its imprint on you. Its not an easy season, but it is absolutely necessary.
One of the main reasons I moved from San Diego back to northern California was a desire for change in season. I know Santa Cruz is no snowy mountain retreat, but the chill is beautiful and it make me feel more alive. Change is important to us all.
Even the ocean feels different in the winter, it has a cool glow. Meghan and I walked along it this morning and tasted the cool fog and salty air on our breath, and it tasted different. The winter waves can be monstrous, but the ocean itself is just changing colors, like the leaves. The redwoods feel different too, they bring in the darkness and the cold quicker. On my afternoon bike ride, my fingers started to freeze, and even though I was a little upset to end early; I could hear the winter trees belly-laughing at me.
In winter, it is ok to stay inside and read; and melancholy music really feels perfect; beer tastes a little bit better and warm cup of tea can solve all of your problems. I think I am a winter person, and I think the change it brings is good for us all.
I don't want to post too much information about this because its still in the works, that being said, here's why today kinda sucks:
Last week on one of the days I rode my bike to school, I forgot my classroom keys. While in Yearbook I sent two trustworthy students to the office to get the keys to my camera closet. They came back and opened the closet and brought the key to me. They opened it without my permission, so I just mentioned to them not to do it again. Then I locked it (probably 3 minutes after they opened it). They then checked out the camera and took pictures around campus.
That night I had a midnight vision, in which the school video camera was missing from the closet. I went to school the next day and found it to be gone. I talked to the one student who was there and of course he knew nothing about it.
So I let my principal know, and he was visibly upset, as was I.
So my first dilemma arises, why cant I trust students? I want to be able to and I feel that earning trust is an important step in growing up. So once again, students break Mr. Zs trust. Ugh
So this week gets going and the camera was not found. Both students denied any knowledge, as did all studetns in the class. So another piece of equipment (that I dont even use) has been stolen.
Today, I recieved a demerit letter of unsatisfactory job performance. It was because I wasnt taking care of the school's equipment well enough. I am frusterated in myself for trusting students, but really? unsatisfactory performance? How does that have anything to do with my teaching?
I am tired of getting taken advantage of by students, and by administration. I am not a bad person, nor am I a bad teacher; I believe this is a little bit unfair.
Its been awhile since I rode my bike to work, but that's because my local bike shop took forever to get my wheels rebuilt. But I finally got it back and was able to ride today. I knew that either I would forget something or something would go wrong, I just wasn't sure what.
So there I was, riding my normal route amongst the cows, strawberries and gigantic trucks sufficiently in the middle of nowhere, and I got a flat tire. This is normally not a problem, but today I didnt have any sort of tire changing equipment, so I tried to use the back of my pump, and lo and behold, I broke it. So not only could I not change my tire, I couldn't pump up the original.
I was about 20 minutes from school over a big hill, so I called my colleague who drives the same way. I left a message and called him again and again; he already thinks I'm weird, so this morning bombardment of calls probably didnt help.
He didn't answer. I thought, "shit" what do I do? i guess my principal could come get me, but that's probably not the best solution. I ended up calling him too, but noone answered, so I decided to hitchhike. I did it in central America and Alaska, why not Prunedale. I put out my thumb for awhile and noone even slowed down except to give me a funny look. So I waited, and waited. And then, flying around the corner comes my fellow teacher, Carlos, or C-lo as I like to call him (not really).
He skids up to me looks at me as if I've lost my mind. He throws his hands up in the air and I throw my bike in his truck and get in. He tells me, what are you doing. I said, hitchhiking, what does it look like.
So as we sorted things out, it turns out that his phone was turned off and he had no idea that I called, he just thought I was some wahoo trying to get a free ride, but he recognized my bike and stopped.
So I made it to work, fixed my bike and had a nice ride home. That was quite a morning though.
listening to Britney spears "womanizer" (not really)
A few weeks ago, I kindof decided that I wouldn't be following the CAHSEE curriculum as closely as I had been told to do. Aside from scoffing at the idea of teaching to a standardized test, I also found that there was no way I could conduct or control a class if the kids were lambasted with boring-state-mandated materials.
So I started peeling short stories from my previous years teaching and from my college readings that left an impression on me. We read "Lamb to the Slaughter" about a woman who kills her husband with a lamb leg, "The somebody" about a kid from east LA who finds that tagging his name all over his neighborhood made him feel like a somebody, and now we are reading, "Greasy Lake." I've been choosing these stories for their themes and connectedness to my students.
While reading, "Greasy Lake" to them, while describing a brutal fight, drug exploration, and a potential rape scene, I began to question myself. I don'd like censorship, and I like hard-hitting stories that really get my students into them and that they can relate to, but I wonder, even with deep discussion and analysis--will they really get the positive messages out of the stories?
I cound read to the class for 45 minutes and the F bomb or "marijuana" would be mentioned once and they wouldnt be able to tell me anything about the story except that the main character smoked pot.
I believe in challenging the traditional notions of the classroom but I also want to support the understanding of difficult situations in literature and life and I may not be always getting through. I guess all I can do is try.
You have no idea, really, of how profound this moment is for us. Us being the black people of the Southern United States. You think you know, because you are thoughtful, and you have studied our history. But seeing you deliver the torch so many others before you carried, year after year, decade after decade, century after century, only to be struck down before igniting the flame of justice and of law, is almost more than the heart can bear. And yet, this observation is not intended to burden you, for you are of a different time, and, indeed, because of all the relay runners before you, North America is a different place. It is really only to say: Well done. We knew, through all the generations, that you were with us, in us, the best of the spirit of Africa and of the Americas. Knowing this, that you would actually appear, someday, was part of our strength. Seeing you take your rightful place, based solely on your wisdom, stamina and character, is a balm for the weary warriors of hope, previously only sung about.
I would advise you to remember that you did not create the disaster that the world is experiencing, and you alone are not responsible for bringing the world back to balance. A primary responsibility that you do have, however, is to cultivate happiness in your own life. To make a schedule that permits sufficient time of rest and play with your gorgeous wife and lovely daughters. And so on. One gathers that your family is large. We are used to seeing men in the White House soon become juiceless and as white-haired as the building; we notice their wives and children looking strained and stressed. They soon have smiles so lacking in joy that they remind us of scissors. This is no way to lead. Nor does your family deserve this fate. One way of thinking about all this is: It is so bad now that there is no excuse not to relax. From your happy, relaxed state, you can model real success, which is all that so many people in the world really want. They may buy endless cars and houses and furs and gobble up all the attention and space they can manage, or barely manage, but this is because it is not yet clear to them that success is truly an inside job. That it is within the reach of almost everyone.
I would further advise you not to take on other people's enemies. Most damage that others do to us is out of fear, humiliation and pain. Those feelings occur in all of us, not just in those of us who profess a certain religious or racial devotion. We must learn actually not to have enemies, but only confused adversaries who are ourselves in disguise. It is understood by all that you are commander in chief of the United States and are sworn to protect our beloved country; this we understand, completely. However, as my mother used to say, quoting a Bible with which I often fought, "hate the sin, but love the sinner." There must be no more crushing of whole communities, no more torture, no more dehumanizing as a means of ruling a people's spirit. This has already happened to people of color, poor people, women, children. We see where this leads, where it has led.
A good model of how to "work with the enemy" internally is presented by the Dalai Lama, in his endless caretaking of his soul as he confronts the Chinese government that invaded Tibet. Because, finally, it is the soul that must be preserved, if one is to remain a credible leader. All else might be lost; but when the soul dies, the connection to earth, to peoples, to animals, to rivers, to mountain ranges, purple and majestic, also dies. And your smile, with which we watch you do gracious battle with unjust characterizations, distortions and lies, is that expression of healthy self-worth, spirit and soul, that, kept happy and free and relaxed, can find an answering smile in all of us, lighting our way, and brightening the world.
I don't think I will soon forget the feeling that I felt when Obama was declared president of the US, and everyone in the restaurant I was in stood up and started clapping and screaming. A tear in Meghans eyes and overwhelming joy in mine. Yesterday was a day for the history books.
I heard it many times today on the radio: Not since Lincoln signed the emancipation proclomation has there been a more important day than today. It is not a day for speeches, or prose, it is a day for poetry.
I am overjoyed by our countries decision to elect Obama, but I am a bit frusterated that in a state that votes for chickens to have bigger cages a proposition was passed that will make it illegal for all people to get married. I hope very deeply that this unconstitutional proposition is rejected in the state courts.
In an effort to slide down the last post, to push it out of my life; its time for a little reflection:
