California Fever

Virginia Tech

fishing hole

as i cast my line
in water of our shared lives
let me find kindness

My school will be joining in the national day of mourning today for Virginia Tech.  We will be wearing maroon and orange, and ribbons, as well. 

We were put on high alert yesterday when schools in two neighboring counties were put on lockdown.  There was a guy (who's apparently a meth addict--one news story quoted his mother as saying he's been strung out on it for months) claiming that he was going to go on a rampage that would make the one at VT look "mild."  An email was sent to staff and we locked all exterior doors.  We were given his description and that of his vehicle, since he was thought at first to have been mobile.  In early afternoon the district sent an email that the suspect had been apprehended.  It wasn't until J and I were watching the 11:00 news last night that I learned that he hadn't been apprehended yesterday afternoon--he turned himself in late last night.  That sent a chill.  Because for those of you who remember reading about our lockdown last Fall, we were told that the suspect in that incident had been apprehended when he hadn't. The story of yesterday's event is here.

Thank you to Liz and Dana at Poetry Thursday for the daily prompts during this National Poetry Month.  And thank you to them for this week's "guerrilla poetry" prompt.  I've really enjoyed reading what others have done in response. 

When I first saw their prompt for today ("fishing hole") I couldn't imagine how I could possibly use it when I was in the mood for something much more somber (with my thoughts on VT).  But then that little haiku came to me.  And then I thought about yesterday's guerrilla poetry efforts.  So I'd like to make a suggestion on this national day of mourning for VT...

That you take one of your poems today (I'm going to use this fishing hole haiku) and share it with people today.  As a way to connect with those who cross your path...as a way to remind us that we're all connected...that we're all in this together.  Hand over a little poetry to those who might least expect it...your barista...your toll taker...your bank teller...your coworkers...your fellow pedestrians...your grocery checker...your gas station attendent...your mail carrier (clip one to your mailbox)...your doctor or pharmacist...your children...your mate.

Let us be kind to each other today.  And let us remember why we're wearing maroon and orange.

garden

Today has been a busy day.  It's also a gorgeous day--temps around the mid-70's.  We hit the laundromat this morning, making a break for IHOP while the washers were running.  Then I went to the library.  They have a small alcove where they sell hardcovers for $1 and paperbacks for 50 cents.  I picked up a few books for the road (including a couple for my brother and sister-in-law.)  I also picked up a golf-related biography for J.  Then it was on to the Dollar Store where I put together a small Easter basket of (non-edible) goodies for my coworker who'll be stuck covering the front office by herself all of next week.  After that, Jeffrey drove me to school.  I needed to pick up my bike, which I'd left there days before, and I'd forgotten to do a few things yesterday.  I worked for about 90 minutes, with a blues radio show blasting in the background.  When I'd finished, I got on my bike and pedaled over to our school garden to snap a few photos.  It's a lovely garden, don't you think?  Snapped a quick shadow photo (it's here) and headed off to Rite-Aid to pick up some toiletries and sympathy cards.  Now I'm ready for a nap.  J wants to head to Wal-Mart for a few things, but I'm hoping he'll let me stay home and curl up in bed with a book instead.  :)

Unity Week, pt. 2

I thought I'd catch you up a bit on what I've been up to the past few days.  The lunchtime fashion show at school on Wednesday was a big hit--we drew a big crowd of students and staff.  (We have one combined lunch for all three grades on Wednesdays.)  We had probably (I didn't count) 30 or so models, which included four staff members (including one math teacher who wore his kilt--quite a hit, as you can imagine) and three former students who came over from the high school to participate.  It didn't really hit me until afterwards, but there were a lot of 7th graders among the models.  That's pretty darn brave of them.  And now that I think about it, of the four girls who headed up the Unity Week fashion show committee, three of them were 7th graders.  The kids did a fabulous job of putting together a fun show that everyone truly enjoyed.  And I had a good time being their commentator.

I had suggested early on in our Unity Week planning that it might be good to have a display of staff members posted during the week.  Our staff is overwhelmingly white, but I thought if kids could see the variety among people's nationalities, that they could at least see there was some diversity on that level.  We asked staff members to provide their birthplace and the race/ethnicity/nationality they most identify with.  (And, boy, was it interesting to read the responses in how people self-identify.)  I sent an email survey to all staff (not just teachers) a few weeks ago and a couple of kids created a template and plugged in all of the info and Christina took photos of everyone.  She and I put together the display on Thursday morning and everyone seemed to enjoy it.  What was really striking to me though was how many staff members were born either in Davis or Woodland or Sacramento or the Bay Area.  In other words, how many have stayed close to home. 

Thursday we had a minimum day at school so all of the secondary teachers in the district could attend articulation meetings. Our principal (who just returned to work on Wednesday after brain surgery--she's okay) brought in Chinese for lunch for the office staff.  We did something we never do--we closed the office for 45 minutes and had lunch in the staff lounge.  Usually when she brings lunch in for us, we keep getting interrupted to answer phones throughout the office and wait on people who walk in.  It was nice for once to just eat without interruptions.  (I almost always eat at my desk, so a lunch break without interruptions is a BIG deal to me.)    Having had a quiet afternoon in the office with few interruptions (the phones were remarkably quiet and very few parents stopped in), for the first time in weeks I arrived home from work not feeling totally depleted.  I'd felt like I'd been racing in 5th gear non-stop for weeks. When I left work that day, it was 80 degrees!  I had no idea because I'd spent all afternoon in the office trying to get a tiny bit caught up. Jeffrey had driven me to work, but as soon as he brought me home I went for a bike ride.  It was glorious.

Our Unity Week at school was capped off by two back-to-back assemblies on Friday morning.  (The same assembly--we just don't have a space large enough to accommodate the entire student body in one seating.)  My friend Christina (our activities director) had the lead on the assembly (she also teaches the Student Activities class and several of those students were involved.)  I'd seen the script ahead of time, so I knew it would be powerful.  Our jazz band played as students filed in and were seated.  Then two 7th graders did taiko drumming (they were great!), eight members of the Latin Dance Club partner-danced, and four girls (in gorgeous turquoise, floor-length costumes) performed a Chinese dance that was beautiful.  A couple of the jazz band members explained a bit about the history of jazz and the band performed a Chuck Mangione piece.  That was followed by three skits the assembly committee had created--about intolerance and racism and bias and cliques and peer pressure.  The assembly closed with a powerful talk by a fabulous speaker Christina had lined up--Darrick Smith from Oakland.  Although it's a few years old, this is a wonderful S.F. Chronicle article on him and the work he does in Oakland schools.   He was a great speaker and the kids loved him. 

He talked to them about the power they have--telling them that when they see guys on TV with their shirts off, bodies all oiled up, wearing platinum chains, driving cars with fancy rims...that that's for THEM.  That's to get THEM to buy stuff.  That they have extraordinary power in this culture, but they need to use it to make smart choices.  He talked to them about how they use their power to apply peer pressure on their friends, and to put down and make fun of kids who look or act differently than they do.  How they label those kids nerds or geeks, but that just because they look different doesn't mean that they're a bad person--they're just not like them.  He talked to them about standing up for what they believe is right among their cliques and that he understands how hard it can be, because if they speak up and say it's not cool to put someone down, they risk being rejected by their own friends.  And that they can be the sexiest, cutest kids in school--have all the best clothes and make-up--but that what they'll ultimately be judged on is their character. 

Christina had come across some information that she'd emailed to Jennifer and me a few days before (we were the three organizing the week's activities).  She couldn't remember where she'd originally found it, but wondered if we could use it during Unity Week somehow.  I suggested it might be a great tie-in with the assembly she had planned, so I created an assembly program for her that had the performance and program line-up on the front and the following on the back (and I'm sorry I can't link to the source):

Start examining your beliefs about other races.  Ask yourself, "Is that really true, or could it just be a stereotype?"

Learn more about different racial groups by reading a book, seeing a movie, attending an event, or making friends with people from different backgrounds.

Invite someone from a different background to eat lunch with you.

Join groups at school that welcome people of all backgrounds and avoid groups that exclude people.

Stop telling jokes or making fun of people based on their race.

Speak up when you hear people making fun of others based on their race.  Say:  "I feel hurt when you say ______."  -or- "Do you know another joke that doesn't put people down?"

Last night I went back to school to be one of the chaperones for the dance.  I had a couple of hours at home in between work and the dance, which I spent in my PJ's, sitting in bed reading fiction. ;) It was another warm night and I actually kind of enjoyed myself at the dance.  I'd only been to one other dance (last year) and only briefly to help work the door.  Maybe because it was the end of a week we'd been planning for months, but I felt really relaxed and enjoyed watching the kids have a good time.  It was a coincidence that there was a dance at the end of Unity Week.  The dance had been scheduled at the beginning of the year and Unity Week was originally going to be in February--but it was the perfect way to end the week.

I'd say our Unity week concept was very well-received by both students and staff.  I hope it's the beginning of a new tradition for our school.

A Liar's Party

Betcha can't guess what I did last night...

Yes!  It was finally time to host "A Liar's Party" for Patry Francis!  We had it at the lovely home of my pal, Toni.  (Our place is way too small.)  The photo was courtesy of Bob, Toni's wonderful husband who went upstairs and left us to do our chatty thing.  Patry's husband, Ted, had dropped her at the party and then headed back to their hotel.

I was the only other blogger in attendance--the others are friends from my workplace (junior high).  The bloggers I would have invited all live some distance away, and I know it's hard for people on a weeknight.  I invited 12--seven of us were able to make it. 

From left to right:  me, Kathy (head of our English dept.), Patry, Toni (school nurse), Gina (teaches English and Drama--she recently won a grant for some training at the Globe Theatre in London this summer...our Drama students are currently in rehearsal for "Pirates of Penzance"), Esther (our much-loved former German teacher--she retired at the end of last year), Carolyn (head counselor...Taylor's grandma...Patry's granddaughters sent a gift for Taylor...so sweet!) and Debbie (our inclusion--special ed--teacher).

Toni and Debbie have lived across the street from each other for many years, and have been in a neighborhood book club for nearly as long.  So when I asked, Toni said she'd be happy to host us since her book club has previously hosted other authors.

And just to keep things really cozy...Toni's daughter, Lindsay, will be marrying Carolyn's son, Dan, this August.

This is a warm and wonderful group of women, and I hope that Patry enjoyed her evening with them.  I know that she has a game she somtimes likes to play with these book party groups, but we were so busy peppering her with questions that we never got around to it.  We learned that she likes to write in the mornings.  That she once read in a "Writer's Digest" publication to simply write 3 pages every day, even if one doesn't feel like it--so that's what she does.  About her earlier novels which were not published.  About suggestions her editor made for The Liar's Diary.   About some, um, interesting ways a few readers have responded to the book.  And how her oldest son waited 20 years to collect on a childhood promise.  See, you have to host a party so you can get all the juicy details, too!  ;)

Patry is just as smart and witty and sweet and delightful and wonderful as I'm sure you all imagine her to be.  She and I shared with the group the joys of blogging.  I started to say the highs and lows, but I can't think of a single negative that we mentioned, since we both love it so much.  (I guess the only downside would be that it can be a tad addictive.)  ;)

Patry shipped a box of books to my home late last week and since we all planned to buy books from her, after Jeffrey accidentally opened the box (not reading the label--thinking it was one of his usual Amazon shipments), I grabbed a copy and between Sunday and after work yesterday, devoured it.  (Well, the story, not the actual book.)  It's a page-turner!

And in a sweet twist for me, Patry and Ted spent Monday night in my hometown of Crescent City.  When I spoke to her after work on Monday, they were making their way down the gorgeous Oregon coast.  I had told them that Crescent City would be about halfway between Portland and Davis via the route they had mapped out.  (Laini hosted a party for her on Sunday night.)   So on Monday night Patry and Ted stayed at Hampton Inn & Suites, where old Seaside Hospital used to be located.  That was where my brother and I were both born and where we both had tonsillectomies--me at age 3, him at 12.  So imagine my delight when I phoned her from work yesterday morning and heard her say, "Oh, we're just leaving Good Harvest..."  She said last night that when the cafe staff had asked how they'd heard about Good Harvest, she nonchalantly replied, "I have a friend from Crescent City..."  Good Harvest is where we have breakfast when we're there--good food and great handmade willow furniture.  Patry and Ted had both been very excited to see redwoods for the first time--I told her she'd hit a big bunch of them just south of town, since 101 would take them through Redwood National Park.

The only disappointment about this entire experience was that Patry and I didn't have more time to hang out together. We had a few minutes as I drove her back to her hotel.  This morning she and Ted are off to Corte Madera to visit Book Passage, one of the country's best indie bookstores.  (I saw Natalie Goldberg speak there several years ago).  Her book tour continues in the Bay Area before they fly to Chicago later this week. 

It was a wonderful evening with a wonderful person.

*****************************************

In Unity Week news...  Unity Week is kicking my butt!  :)  There are three of us on staff who have organized these activities.  We each took the lead on one big project.  My big project was working with the kids on our Darfur committee.  Yesterday was their day to present, which they did during both lunch periods.  They set up a slide show to run onstage in our Indoor Commons, which is also our cafeteria.  But that was just a tease to entice kids to check out their exhibit in our (unused this year) Home Ec room.  I can't post photos here, because that would break my 'no student photos' policy, but their presentation was a huge hit.  They wanted it to feel like night, so they put dark paper over the huge windows and strung a bunch of white lights.  They had a slide show running and built an example of a simple structure a Darfur refugee might have in one of the refugee camps.  They had an information table, where they provided handouts and answered questions.  They also encouraged visitors to their exhibit to write postcards to President Bush to encourage him to take action to protect innocent civilians in Darfur.  They made green ribbons that students and staff could be seen wearing the remainder of the day in solidarity.  And they created a green ribbon paper 'wall' where students could write their sentiments about Darfur on large green paper ribbons which we now have displayed in the school lobby. 

Our school district's school climate coordinator was on-site yesterday and I encouraged him to check out their presentation.  Afterwards, he told me that he'd told the kids he was so impressed that he wants them to take their show on the road--to do their presentation at our sister junior highs.  They were quite excited by that news, and I couldn't be prouder of them.

Today at lunchtime (all three grades have lunch together on Wednesdays) we're staging a cultural fashion show.  We had a dress rehearsal at the end of the schoolday on Monday.  The fashion show committee has pulled together some wonderful outfits for the show--from Pakistan and Ghana and Vietnam and Japan and China and India and Tonga, etc.  And the show is going to open with a special performance by our high school's award-winning Madrigals.  Yours truly will be the commentator, and this morning I'll be helping our decorations committee set the stage for the show.

Monday morning I helped our language tree committee hang their piece in the Indoor Commons.  The kids came up with this concept to show all of the different languages spoken by our students--as based on a language survey they gave to all students last week.

There's also a world map in the Indoor Commons.  Last Friday, every student was given an opportunity (during their P.E. classes) to put a dot on the map indicating the country or state or city they most identify with.

And yesterday during lunch the two girls heading up a hands mural project got students to write on paper hands the nationalities or races they most identify with along with one thought about unity.

Tomorrow is a minimum day so our teachers can join their fellow teachers at their sister schools in articulation meetings.  I'm looking forward to having a nice, quiet afternoon in the office just so I can catch up a little!  :) On Friday, our assembly committee will be doing two shows of their Unity Week assembly.

This weekend?  I plan to sleep.  ;)

Concilio

I really don't know what to say at this point.  All is well, at least on the surface.  I just haven't felt much like blogging or reading blogs or writing or...  Let's just say lounging has sounded infinitely more appealing lately, although it doesn't feel like I've been going overboard on that either.  So as I sit here consuming a funky Italian mug-ful of organic Italian roast with organic half-n-half accompanied by a day-old glazed donut (consistency has never been my strong suit), I'll try to recap a bit of what's transpired over the last few days.

On Thursday evening, 12 of us from my school went to hear Jonathan Kozol speak (courtesy of the school--it was offered to all staff, we were the only ones who cared to attend apparently).  We met for dinner first on the patio of a favorite downtown hangout, which was lovely.  And then we walked through the University's Arboretum to the venue.  The irony of attending a lecture by one of the country's foremost experts on school segregation among a group of all-white school staff was not lost on me.  Although I was aware of Kozol, I'd never read his books and had never heard him speak before.  He's quite witty, but since he's getting up there, he tends to let his points drag on a bit too long.  But overall, I enjoyed it.  He took a few questions from the audience afterwards, the first of which was posed by a 3rd-year Chicano student at UC Davis.  He broke down crying as he spoke of having always had to attend schools where he could smell the pesticides and look out the window to see his mother picking in the fields.  How he holds the most prestigious position on campus a student can hold (in the Chancellor's office), but still can't afford his education.  How all of the students were up in the second balcony (which drew a big roar from them) because none of them could afford the lower seats.  It was quite moving.  Two questioners later, a middle-aged woman with long, frosted blonde hair wearing a glitzy, sparkly sweater stepped up to the mike.  She told of managing to gain entrance to UCD as a single mother, living with her daughter in campus housing, getting her teaching credential...and then one day taking her young daughter with her to the school in Sacramento where she was student teaching.  Afterwards, her daughter said that she'd been frightened because there'd been no white kids in the classroom.  And then the mother started venting her frustration over having to teach in a school like that where she feared that "(one of the students in Kozol's books) parents might show up to kick my ass."  At that point, the woman's voice turned into adult dialogue in a Charlie Brown Christmas special for me...WAH...WAH...WAH.  I literally couldn't hear anything else she said because I was so blinded by my anger towards her.  (I find it hard to believe she would have made that remark if the student Kozol had mentioned throughout his talk had been white.)  Kozol began to address her remarks...she began gesturing wildly in disgust to the audience behind her...the audience began to murmur...it escalated into Kozol and the woman shouting on top of each other...until the woman began to storm toward a side entrance, prompting four young people in the row in front of us to say something to her (I didn't catch what they said) which prompted her to flagrantly flip them the bird.  And that was how she exited...and how the evening ended.

And it seemed so perfect that she was dressed so elegantly, because that's what we do here in Davis--we dress up our racism and intolerance so that we can pretend it doesn't exist.  The biggest hot-button issue in our upcoming local election is about Target.  The City Council didn't have the balls to approve a Target store, so they put it up for election.  Many locals are vehemently opposed to it:  "Don't big box Davis!"  Of course, I suspect they're the same folks who are lobbying hard to get a Trader Joe's store in here--and Trader Joe's isn't promising to build an environmentally-friendly building.  We're for the Target store.  Research shows that Davisites make hundreds of thousands of purchases at neighboring Targets.  So not building a store here isn't going to stop us from shopping at Target--it just means we'll continue to use gas to drive to Woodland or Vacaville or Sacramento to give them our tax dollars.  And Target has committed to building a LEED store in Davis, emphasizing site sustainability.  What does this have to do with racism and intolerance?  Well, recently the "Yes on K" campaign delivered mini-newspapers to resident driveways in which they showed how other other similarly-sized towns have benefitted nicely from a Target store.  A primary example was Chico (also a university town, north of us).  The long-time local columnist in our newspaper took great issue with the gall exhibited by the Yes on K campaign folks who dared to compare us to Chico, saying (I'm paraphrasing, but this is close):  Don't they know we consider ourselves unique?  That we're special (here in Davis)?  And I thought:  EXACTLY.  That's the frigging problem!  We're NOT unique, and we're NOT special.  We have the same problems and issues that every place else does--we just pretend we DON'T.

Okay, on to brighter news...  On Friday, one of our 9th grade P.E. classes was given a hands-on cooking demonstration by visiting chef, Georgeanne Brennan.  I only popped in for a few minutes at the beginning of the class, but heard later that the kids had a fabulous time.  She was the first of eight visiting chefs we'll have gracing our (sadly, unused this year) Home Ec kitchen this year.  What a treat!  Look for Georgeanne on Good Morning America on October 27th to talk about the release of her new book, Green Eggs and Ham Cookbook.  And if you've ever wanted to rent a house in Provence, you might want to check out her newly-renovated Village House rental here.

On Saturday evening, Jeffrey and I attended the 23rd annual Mexican-American Concilio of Yolo County awards dinner in Woodland.  The Concilio awards more scholarships in our county than any other group--private or non-profit.  They award a scholarship to one female and one male student from seven high schools in the county.  And let me tell you, sitting there listening to those 14 young people talk about the adversities they'd overcome to succeed...well, it made me realize that I have NOTHING to complain about.  Many of them have parents who came here from Mexico with nothing; many of their parents still work in the fields and never had a chance for an education.  These kids carry ridiculously high GPA's, are very involved in clubs, activities and sports, and still find time to do volunteer work.  They were truly inspiring.

Yesterday we spent a good chunk of time getting some stuff on eBay.  Around mid-afternoon we suddenly realized we were hearing live music outside, and I remembered that "Davisfest" was going on downtown--live music, wine tasting, crafts booths, etc.  So we ventured out, first to the park around the corner where we heard The Time Bandits laying down a good R&B revue.  Then we wandered through downtown, making a pit stop in Tower Records which is, sadly, going out of business.  Even so, they haven't slashed prices enough quite yet.  :)

The weather turned chilly yesterday, even though it was sunny.  Around 6:30, we turned on the TV in the bedroom and crawled under the covers to watch the baseball game and maybe take a little nap.  I (ahem) "napped" for about nine hours. 

I've got a busy day ahead, as I'm sure all of you do, too.  Here's to a good week...and warmer temperatures!  (Expected back in a few days.)  Have a good one.

blot

it's back
that old familiar
feeling the rage that
you used to be
able to call up so
easily to unleash on
unwitting targets
you should have
known given what
had unfolded during
the day that you
wouldn't be able to keep
it bound to keep it
tightly wound on that
spool in your heart
labeled injustice it
was the post office that
pushed you over the
edge you needed a
target and they're an
easy one and then there
was the driver who not only
pulled out in front of
you from a parking
space but turned her
wheel sharply to make
a u-turn in the middle
of the street you veered
wildly into the other lane
on that quiet street around
the corner from your
house as you laid on the
horn and screamed at her and
as the strawberry
soda leaked all over the
passenger side floor you
found yourself on a gorgeous
warm fall day parked wildly
in the middle of your
neighborhood street
unleashing your rage as
the crazy driver's husband stepped
toward your open passenger
window as you were leaned
over righting the leaking cups
and asked what was
wrong
you wanted to scream what
ISN'T wrong? what is wrong with
this world when a child can't
attend a junior high without
having a teacher throw a
racial term at him in class? what
isn't wrong when an
administrator speaks kindly
to the student but makes
no effort to deal with
the teacher?
when you pulled into your
driveway your sweetheart
stepped outside to grab
the food through the open window
to carry it inside as you
stormed back and forth
through the screen door with
paper towels to mop up the
red mess on the floor of
the car even though he
told you to just leave it
that he'd shampoo it out but
you didn't want to leave
it you wanted to blot it all
away you wanted to make it
disappear because suddenly it
wasn't just about strawberry soda
toppled over by a negligent
driver it suddenly seemed
like that's all you do at that
school is blot and blot and
blot at what should have
never been spilled in the
first place

Club Faire

We had a Club Faire during lunch today.  Six clubs had tables lined up along one wall in our indoor commons.  Last year our Black student union didn't really do anything beyond staging a Black History assembly.  It was very successful, but not much happened beyond that.  This year I said I wanted to work with that club again, and it turns out that I'll be the sole advisor.  Fifty-two kids signed up for the club yesterday.  That's a fabulous reponse, but we'll see how many actually come to the meetings. 

As some of you might remember, last May I worked with a large group of our Latino and Hispanic students to stage a student-created assembly.  It was during the time that immigration was such a hot issue in the country, and it was an issue that affected many of those kids directly.  It was a very moving and powerful experience for the kids, and for us.  I have a group photo that was taken on the stage right after the assembly tacked up on one of the cupboard doors in my work area.  Those kids love to walk up to it and find themselves in the group.  It seemed to be a wonderful experience for them.  I wanted to keep that momentum going, so I contacted three of those assembly participants about taking the lead on forming a Latino club this year.  They seemed very excited about the prospect and recruited another friend to help, too.  Yesterday their club got 42 sign-ups.  And best of all, we have several kids who signed up for the Latino club AND the black student union.  Mutual support of each other!  That's what I'm talkin' about!  I've managed to get three teachers to commit to advising the Latino group with me--that way no one has to take on the responsibility of being the sole advisor.  (And the other three speak Spanish, too.)

Our principal continually lets me know that I have her full support to do this activities work.  She's told me that she values the diversity work I do just as much as my registrar work.  And of course, in my mind, it's all tied together.  I believe a welcoming and tolerant attitude should be pervasive everywhere on campus.

The other clubs at the Club Faire yesterday were our Gay-Straight Alliance, the Environmental/Garden club, Drama Club and 'Pub' (Publications) Club (responsible for the school newsletter).  The Faire was a big hit and seemed to generate a lot of excitement for the clubs.

And now, the work begins. 

changed

I'm going to let the horses do the talking today.  Go to Daryl's site and click NOW PLAYING.

To support El Dustberry, go here.

Patti at 37 Days is doing a retreat in November via her Circle Project work.  You can read about it here.  I particularly loved this line in describing their work:  "Our teaching is oriented more toward learning (a process that leaves us changed) than toward problem-solving (a process focused on changing our surroundings)."

I'd say the horses at El Dustberry are very good at assisting people in doing the former.

May you be feel compelled today to set down your problem-solving skills in order to allow yourself to be changed.

Peace in the Middle Campus

Yesterday was a rough day for me.  So rough, that when I left campus (late again), I didn't feel like going back...maybe ever.  At the very least, I was craving a mental health day.  I felt really frayed and worn down and tired.  It's not just the hours I've worked this month, but the pace I kept up while working those hours and the ill effects of the negativity and drama that swirls around me there. 

I laid down on the couch as soon as I got home yesterday, waiting for J to return from a golf game.  He brought me a salad, and rubbed my head in a way that he does only when he knows that I'm worn down emotionally.  We curled up on the couch and watched The Secret.  Mom had sent us the DVD a few weeks ago.  I'd already watched it a couple of times, but Jeffrey had only seen the first half hour.  It was just what I needed--a movie about the law of attraction...about how vital it is to focus one's thoughts on what one wants, rather than what one doesn't want.  After the movie, I retired to the bedroom to continue reading March (LOVE IT).  [SIDEBAR:  You can read the Powells.com interview with Geraldine Brooks here.  I also loved her Year of Wonders, and her husband's hilarious Confederates in the Attic.  They're friends of a friend, although I know nothing about them--but what a talented couple.) 

I woke this morning, still feeling like hiding out.  No one would have blamed me if I'd called in sick today or taken a personal leave day.  But then I remembered that I'd left the day before with paperwork scattered everywhere.  And then I remembered something way more important--today would be A's first day of school.  A and his family are from Iran.  His father registered him for school on Monday, but A and his siblings just flew here from Iran on Tuesday (the first day of classes).  His parents brought him to school early yesterday and right off the bat we started testing him.  The paraeducator who administers ELD tests gave him an oral test.  As soon as he finished that, I gave him a math placement test.  He looked shellshocked when I told him that he'd be spending his first two hours on his new campus being tested, but he was a trooper about it.  I phoned his parents when his testing was complete so they could join him in meeting with his counselor.  It was decided after that meeting (where his class schedule was created) that since the poor kid was so jet-lagged, his first day of classes would be today.  I didn't have to be there to greet A today, but I wanted to be there.  I would have felt like I was letting him down, since I'd told him the day before that I'd see him in the morning.  We'd arranged the day before for a Peer Helper to meet him in the office before 1st period--someone who could give him a tour of the school, show him where his locker and classrooms are.  Sure enough, as soon as I walked through the front doors, I saw A standing outside the office doors, and I was instantly glad that I had set aside my own gripes to be there to greet him with a familiar face and a smile.

We had our welcome back assembly today, so we were on an assembly bell schedule.  It can be confusing for new kids, because there are two back-to-back assemblies during 3rd period--there are two 3rd periods.  A. showed up at my desk after the second assembly and asked, "It is (period) 5?"  I explained about the assembly periods and that it was really only 4th period.  I knew where he needed to be 4th period and offered to walk him to his class.  He wanted to stop at his locker first.  The hallways can seem chaotic during passing periods, but he quickly snaked his way through the throngs to his locker, glancing frequently over his shoulder to make sure I was still following.  I was impressed that only a few hours into his first day he could easily find his locker and had already memorized the combination.  He put the books he no longer needed inside his locker, but before he pulled out the next set of books, he pulled out another book and said, "This is my Persian book."  I said, "Ooooh.  And you read from right to left?"  "Yes.  See, here is the beginning..."  "Yes, the table of contents."  "And here is the end."  I said, "English may seem confusing to you.  Farsi seems confusing to me, but it's very beautiful when it's written."  That seemed to please him and he gave me a big smile and a "thank you." 

As we began to walk away from A's locker, our new Israeli student passed us going the other direction.  I said hello, but then called after her, "N, is everything okay?"  She quickly shook her head no.  We walked over to her.  She had placed the school map in the outer sleeve of her binder.  She pointed to a tucked-away room (that was hard for me to find when I first worked there) and asked, "Where is this room?"  I told her I'd show her the way, and then I turned to A and said that we were going to walk N to her room and then we'd go to his classroom.  I said, "A, this is N.  N, this is A."  "Hi."  "Hi."  The three of us walked to N.'s room and then I delivered A. to his classroom and introduced him to his teacher.   

If we're to believe George Bush, those two children should be enemies; they should be filled with an innate hatred for each other.  People who hold those kinds of beliefs seem to view the world in black and white cliches--they fail to see the humanity in individuals.  In that moment in the hallway between classes, they weren't an Israeli girl and an Iranian boy.  They were just two junior high kids trying to settle into a new school.

monster

"Monster," read the prompt.  I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when I read it.  I've been haunted most of my life by many imagined and real ones.  There was my profound belief that Lee Harvey Oswald's ghost lived in my Dad's bedroom closet, a belief that haunted me until I left home at 18.  Or the fact that the girl who sat next to me in my 5th grade classroom was murdered, and that the young man who stabbed her more than 20 times had once chased me with an axe.  There was the guy who'd peeped into my Aunt's bedroom window before she was married, and how I couldn't go into that empty back bedroom at Nanny's house without feeling utterly creeped out.  There were all of the dead strangers lying in (thankfully closed) caskets whose funerals we were dragged out of class to sing for during my 7th and 8th grade years, and how I'd stand up there on the riser in the balcony trying to think about anything but that dead body in that box.  There was the vicious German Shepard my cousins owned who was always tied up when I was there, but who'd more than once bitten neighborhood kids when he was loose.  There was my grandmother's garage and attached shed that at night seemed like the darkest place in the world.  There were my Dad's fishing rods stolen from our garage and how much it scared me to think that strangers had been in our garage during the night while we slept.  (I began locking the doors after that--we'd never locked them before, no one did then.)  There was the sick fear I'd get in the pit of my stomach when my parents would scream and fight, a feeling that felt like a monster had taken up residence in my insides.  There were my classmates who lost their fishermen fathers to the sea, a trauma that gave birth to my life-long fear of deep water.  There were the thousands of scary people and demons and monsters who chased and hunted me nightly in my dreams.  I had nightmares every night of my life until I was in my mid-30's (and stopped drinking) and never told a soul until I was an adult.  (No wonder I was an insomniac.) 

I brought Ciara home with me Friday night for a sleepover.  My folks were down here for the night, and we gathered for Italian food at a restaurant here in Davis--my parents, brother, sister-in-law, C and me. (The teenagers were off with their friends.)  It occurred to me when I got to the restaurant that maybe C would like to spend the night, especially since J's gone and she could sleep in the sleigh bed with me.  My folks had asked if I'd drive them to the airport at 5 am yesterday, and then I could use their car for the week.  I told Ciara that we'd have to get up very early to take Pop-Pop and Grandma to the airport.  She asked, "Where would I sleep?"  And I told her she could sleep in the bed with me, and that since her last sleepover, we've acquired a big TV in the bedroom (courtesy of her other grandmother) and that we could find a movie on the bedroom TV and curl up in bed and watch it.  (All I could find with the rabbit ears was "Men in Black II," but it hardly mattered since she was asleep within minutes.)  Ciara loves to stay at our place, but she fights her own demons here.  Once when she was over, the heater had gone out.  The repair guy was scheduled to arrive the next day, but our very nice property manager said she had a space heater that she'd drop off for us to use until then.  She hadn't shown up, and we were all tired, so we turned in early.  She did eventually arrive after we'd all gone to sleep.  I don't know what scared Ciara more as she was lying on the couch--having someone knock on the door late at night, or not being able to wake us right away when she ran into the bedroom to tell us about it.  Ever since then, when it's time to go to sleep, she doesn't want to be left alone in the living room.  And I completely understand (see list above).  (Last time I pulled the camp cot out of the closet and slept next to the couch.)

After we'd done our airport run yesterday morning and hung out at home for awhile, I took C to IHOP for breakfast.  I'd asked her the night before at the restaurant, "How's 4th grade so far?"  (She's been in school a couple of weeks already.)  She gave me a look that said, not so great.  And Ciara loves school, so that was very disheartening.  I asked, "Do you not like your teacher?"  She said she didn't like her at all--that she has no patience.  My sister-in-law said she'd spoken to the teacher and to the principal, and had asked to have C. moved to another classroom.  The request was turned down because of class size (which I understand because we're fighting the same battle right now, trying to keep class sizes from being too huge).  At which point my retired (secondary) schoolteacher father piped in, "Can you imagine having 33 kids in an elementary classroom?"  Out of the blue at breakfast yesterday, C asked, "Know what the highlight of 4th grade is going to be?  When we have a substitute for a week-and-a-half."  (Her teacher's getting married and the absence will be during her honeymoon.)  It made me so angry that her teacher is treating those kids in such a way that at the beginning of the year they're already thinking the entire year is going to suck.  I asked her to tell me more about what her new teacher is doing that she doesn't like.  She said she just doesn't have any patience at all, and that she freaks out if there's any noise at all.  "So everyone has to sit perfectly quiet and still all day long?"  "YES."  I'll have to defer to Kathleen on this one, since she teaches elementary, but I simply can't imagine having a classroom of 33 eight-year-olds and expecting them to not make a peep the entire day.  C's new teacher is shaping up to be a monster in her life, and it's very upsetting to me.

Monsters lurk everywhere--they're inside all of us. But it's not okay to be a spirit-killer, even for a moment.  It's not okay to crush little spirits by making them act like robots in a classroom.  Most monsters are all too easy to identify, so it's all too easy to forget the power of one (seemingly insignificant) action.  But one sentence scribbled in the margin of a paper by one of my English teachers killed my writing dream for 15 years. 

So tonight, when you check under the bed for monsters, don't forget to check inside your heart, too.