News:

I AM OFFICIALLY DONE WITH GRAD SCHOOL.

Friends... acquaintances... strangers who read my blog (like the ones in Beverly Hills-- why do so many people in Beverly Hills read my blog?? Delurk, Beverly Hills, delurk!)... random Googlers who find themselves here inexplicably and with great dismay: this is a big deal.

It means: I am done with school forever!




... Until I decide I want my Masters in English. Or a degree in Family Counseling. Or to be Nationally Board Certified.

Also, until I start inservice at my teaching job on Monday. Because then, obviously, I will be back in school.

But still: the hellish days of research papers and online discussion forums and ripping-my-hair-out-because-I-forgot-another-assignment are OVER!!! I have a Masters degree! I do, I do!




... At least, I will, once I officially pass my classes and get the fancy bit of paper in the mail.

What is the point of qualifiers?? I scorn qualifiers. I spit upon qualifiers. I AM DONE WITH GRAD SCHOOL AND I HAVE A MASTERS DEGREE.

AND THAT IS MY NEWS.

This afternoon, I celebrated with some shopping. I bought tights and a skirt and a sweater: very practical teacher back-to-school clothes (which could also be confused as done-with-school clothes). I also tried on a romper. All summer long I have wanted a romper. I found a great romper, on sale, in my size, and the short parts were even teal. I love teal. I once convinced my high-school graduating class to order our graduation announcements in teal, which everyone later hated, but by then they had forgotten I was the one to convince them, and I felt secretly overjoyed and wicked. But I did not buy the romper, because it was impractical for school.

But it's pajama time now, and what I really wish I had is a romper.

And so even though I am done with grad school and have a fancy advanced degree, I am weeping uncontrollably in a heap under my covers for want of a romper.

Not really.

I'm still super pumped. :)

They tell us to take a Sabbath.

The profs at grad school, that is. They say to take one day off a week. "You need it!" they say.

But who has time for sabbaths?? I teach all week during the days, grade every evening, do homework somewhere inbetween, so weekends are my only time to apply for jobs which I MUST DO. So yesterday, I graded blogs, and today, I'm trying to bust out another application.

But it is sunny in Seattle, and everyone is out enjoying it. One friend's facebook status update is: "Carly is rollerblading, longboarding, and biking on Alki beach with the girls."

I was invited. I turned her down to work on the application. I could be at Alki right now, getting a sunburn and riding my bike. I CAN'T STAND IT.

I saw another friend at church. "Kickball this afternoon, Greta!" he said. I turned him down. "Have to work on an application...!"

BAAAAAAH.

I am all woebegone.

The problem is, I AM still trying to pack in stuff with friends around everything else, which means that, at present: I am tired and grumpy. Last night was dinner and drinks out with friends, and it was a blast, and I did not get enough sleep.

And I tried napping but felt guilty for not working. And so still: I am grumpy. And resentful for not getting Sunday fun. And clearly, blogging instead of working on an application because of aforementioned grumpiness and distraction.

They tell us to take a Sabbath. "You need it!" they say. I need it.

But when??

Those Days

Some days are so long.

Some days, you start work as early as 7AM, mentally choreographing a number for the spring musical by listening to the song on your I-Tunes, while you dry your hair and put on make-up to get ready for the day.

Some days, the school copier breaks down. And you have to get REAL creative, REAL fast to revise your lesson. And then sometimes, the copier gets fixed at the very last second, and you can carry on after all.

Some days, you can rhapsodize about Shakespeare, and the history of medieval and Renaissance England, and tell students about your own performance on the Globe theatre stage in London, and they listen, and they laugh, and they sit up and look at you with bright eyes and grins on their faces, and you feel so good.

Some days, the kids are great about doing an in-class assignment, and they work together, and you feel awesome about their progress.

Some days, you and your mentor-teacher read "The Merchant of Venice" out loud to your students with especially silly, exaggerated voices, and the kids giggle and follow along.

Some days, you have to end regular school by rushing off to grad school, and prepare for a big presentation in front of your other grad school cohorts.

Some days, the presentation goes great. You play your guitar, you teach your classmates a round, they all sing, it sounds great, and people tell you afterwards that they loved your presentation especially.

Some days, you go home wanting nothing more than to just get into your pajamas and watch a mindless sitcom.

But some days, you can't rest yet. You have to finish choreographing that musical number by scratching out notes in a script while eating dinner-- and drinking wine. Oh yes. While DRINKING WINE.

Some days are awesome. Class goes well; grad school goes well; you've prepared for tomorrow, and you feel GOOD about life as a teacher.

But some days... leave you EXHAUSTED.

So some nights, you're in bed by 9:30PM. And on those nights, it takes you less than 10 seconds to fall asleep.

But those are great days.

Those are really great days.

The Official Bane of My Existence

I have referred to many things in the past as being, "the bane of my existence." It is a great phrase. It is descriptive. There are many things that fit the description: things which are, in fact, the bane of my existence. Things like technology. Packing for trips. Paying bills. Yapping dogs. People who drive slowly in the left lane, or who walk slowly in front of me. These things all drive me crazy. But these things are all minor banes.

Do you want to know the most baneful of the banes? The most banefully baney bane of them ALL?

Keeping track of my online learning assignments.

Four classes: I'm taking FOUR classes over the internet right now. Each class has its own site, and each site has the assignments posted in various links, none of which match the other classes' links. A smart person would take the time to sit down at the beginning of the semester, root out all the assignments, and put them in one easily viewed calendar.

I am a smart person. I am SO smart, in fact, that I thought I could remember them all in my head.

I am now smart enough to realize that I was an idiot for thinking so.

I have now forgotten four, FOUR FOUR FOUR assignments for these classes. I have had to beg for forgiveness from each of my four professors. I found out about two of these assignments when talking with my other classmates at our class last night-- the one on-campus class we have. You know those nightmares where you think you have a huge paper due, or a test you didn't study for? You know that HUGE feeling of relief when you wake up, and realize it was just a dream? Yeah. The first part. But not the second. The second part never came.

"Wait-- WHAT is due today? Oh my gosh-- I'm going to have to go home and do that. CRAP!"
"Greta, don't worry-- it happens to all of us. I'm still working on the Glasser paper! Dan had to give me an extension on that!"
"The what?"
"The Glasser paper."
"The WHAT?"
"...The Glasser paper. It was due a couple weeks ago."
"I thought we just had to do a discussion post for that!"
My classmates looked at me in horrified sympathy. "We did... But we had to write a 4-5 page paper too..."

I literally keeled over. You guys. I have had enough stress. I am tired of feeling so stressed. I have been stressed about family. I have been stressed about relationships. I have been stressed about friends. And I am SO, SO STRESSED about this grad school stuff. The pressure is back on my chest. The breathing has once more gotten shallow. My appetite has once more disappeared. I am so tired of feeling this way.

And I'm EXHAUSTED. Almost too exhausted to go look through these syllabi, one by one, and FINALLY root out all the assignments due-- both those overlooked and those still impending.

But I am a smart person. And even though I am weighed down by fatigue, a smart person puts her assignments in her calendar. Better late than never, right?

I just hope my professors feel the same way...

Apple on the Tree; Ivy on the Ground

Yesterday I met the woman who is going to mentor me as her student teacher for this entire school year. I'd been praying about this, because my school/mentor placement will not only hugely affect my grad school education, it will also likely play a major part in where I get hired in the future. Two possible placements had already fallen through, and I was starting to feel seriously concerned. Most teachers, after all, are going back to school this week or next-- who was I going to be tagging along with??

The first teacher I'd been possibly placed with was an impressive teacher-- I watched one of her classes, and she had a great rapport with her students, and they were demonstrating great writing. But the school's theatre program had recently been cut altogether-- a big concern for a grad student hoping to get endorsed in both English and Drama. Although the teacher told me that I could assist one of their guest directors on a production, she said, "Do it at your own risk-- because we'll have our hands full with our English classes." The school would have also entailed a huge commute, and its student population was largely upper-middle class. Not totally the demographic I was hoping for... I want to teach lower-income students in the future, so I wanted to be in a situation that would teach me how to DO that.

I went back to the lady who coordinates placements. "Is there any way we could try to find me a school that has English AND Theatre classes I could observe...?" Ideally, I was hoping to be paired with a teacher that balanced both subjects, so that I could learn how to time-manage between those two very time-consuming subjects. But really, I'd be happy to just be IN a school with a theatre program.

A possible break seemed to present itself: one of my fellow teaching interns is currently the Performing Arts Director at his large, highly-esteemed Seattle district high-school. He was going back to school for his Masters, but had worked professionally for years, and had taught at the college and high-school level. He wouldn't have been able to "officially" mentor me, since we were both in the program, but I could OBSERVE his awesome classes... And in the meantime, I could be mentored by an English teacher down the hall. Additionally, this school has an incredibly diverse student body-- literally, any type of student I would ever expect to teach would be here. Talk about a learning opportunity! My intern friend and I got really excited about this prospect, and he talked to his principal, and I emailed the placement lady at my University. She came back to me with a pessimistic outlook: my cousins go to this high-school, and teaching in a school with 'relatives' is against University policy. This high-school is also apparently really hard to get into, and she guessed that they had already reached their "intern" quota for the year. "Don't get your hopes up," she said. Crap.

Monday arrived, August 18th, and I still had no idea where I'd be teaching for this year.

Then the placement lady emailed me. "I think I have what could be an excellent placement for you," she began...

And did.

She.

EVER.

This lady, Viola, is a high-school English teacher who also teaches the winter Musical Theatre class: a teacher that teaches both subjects! The school is a small alternative public school that focuses on incorporating a great deal of the arts and social justice themes into its curriculum. Did I MENTION that I went to a small alternative public school that focused on combining arts with academics and world-related themes?? This school is basically the Seattle version of MY high-school, which I LOVED. Viola also mentioned that she had just finished taking a workshop at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival and would love to work with an intern that was interested in Shakespeare.

Fact: I am a Shakespeare GEEK. Like... major, MAAAAJOR geek. AND, when I was in high-school, our theatre classes went on yearly field trips to that same Shakespeare festival. What. I get to nerd-out with with my mentor teacher about Iambic Pentameter!!

AND, this woman has an extensive dance back-ground (she teaches a Fall elective on the Lindy-Hop, which I get to take too. Seriously??). Fact: I took ballet for ten years, jazz for five, modern for three, and tap for one. I LOVE DANCING.

ANNND, as we were going over the curriculum, she said that we would be working with the Social Studies classes on covering similar time periods and historical movements. This is exactly the type of thing I want to do as a teacher: open up literature to broader relevance and show kids how it connects to other elements of their world. She spoke about how important it was to her to teach in a way that helped students relate to it personally.

THATISTOTALLYWHATIWANTTODO!!!

She mentioned at one point during our coffee date: "Something you should probably know is that we'll have a lot of low income kids. We're about 60% free-and-reduced lunch." She looked at me like, "How will you do with that?" I looked back at her like, "Are you seriously saying this right now?"

I'll be teaching the kids I want to teach.

She said, "I give the students a tough curriculum, because I want them to believe that they can do it. I tell them, 'My daughter went to a private school, but I don't believe you should have to pay all that money to get a good education. You're going to be able to get that right here.' That makes them sit up straighter." That's what she tells them. That's what she teaches them. That's what...I...want...to...GAH! (Spazzing with excitement.)

We'll be covering the Middle-East, Asia, and then Africa in our curriculum. By the time we get to Africa, I'll be doing the majority of the teaching, and guess what we're reading? Things Fall Apart, by Chinua Achebe. Viola was thrilled to hear that I'd been to Africa. "You can use that in your teaching!" I'll get to revisit that transforming time in my life: I get to teach about Africa. She said, "Ooo, let's see if we can get someone to come in and teach them African dance!" Cool!!

Oh, and did I mention the school is like, three miles away?

I feel like this spot was created JUST for me. It is exactly, and everything that I want to do, and I loved meeting with Viola: she's going to be so much fun to work with. She's creative, and spunky, and energetic, and open. Praise the Lord-- what a gift, you know??

I "go back to school" on Tuesday!!!

How To Attend Your Internet Classes on a Gloriously Sunny Day:

1.) Go outside with laptop, lunch, water bottle, and fleece blanket.
2.) Spread fleece blanket on ground.
3.) Sprawl.
4.) Open laptop. Find that the sun prevents you from being able to see the screen.
5.) Pick up laptop, lunch, water bottle, and fleece blanket, and move everything close to the shade.
6.) Put laptop in the shade. Arrange everything else so that it's still in the sun.
7.) Sprawl.
8.) Check internet connection. Find that you've only got one bar.
9.) Try it anyway.
10.) Wait.
11.) Consider other options.
12.) Pick up laptop, lunch, water bottle, and fleece blanket; go inside.
13.) Go upstairs.
14.) Go out on Grandpa's balcony.
15.) Set laptop on wide wooden railing; check connection.
16.) Find that you have a strong signal.
17.) Fist pump.
18.) Try to arrange fleece blanket in tent formation around screen to enable viewing.
19.) View floppy tent formation with skepticism. Consider other options.
20.) Go down to basement.
21.) Find large box.
22.) Bring upstairs and out onto Grandpa's balcony.
23.) Place box around laptop.
24.) View screen easily with brand new woman-made shade.
25.) Fist pump.
26.) Go get chair to complete outdoor desk set-up.
27.) Bask:

28.) Enjoy:

29.) Start on homework.
30.) But first, procrastinate by blogging.

Wednesday Philosophizing

One of the books we’re reading in grad school right now is called, Love and Logic: Teaching in the Classroom. We read a chapter last night that dealt with perceptions— addressing our perceptions as teachers and also examining the perceptions that students may be coming in with. The book made the statement that there are essentially as many “world views” as there are people in it—that we form our perceptions based off our own unique life experiences, and those perceptions influence literally everything we take in, think about, process, and respond to.

So: Being the loser in 5th grade makes me empathize with 5th grade losers.

Reading storybooks with my Grandma in a mountain cabin in front of a fire made me love storybooks.

Having my parents build me up and tell me that I could do anything made me confident as a student, and encouraged me to give school a banner effort.

Climbing trees in my backyard with my siblings as a kid makes climbing trees as a 24-year-old feel safe and reassuring.

Etcetera.

This is why “the first cut is the deepest,” as Cat Stevens first pointed out. When people fall in love for the first time, their frame of reference-- their “field of understanding”-- does not yet include the vocabulary to articulate heartbreak, so they give their hearts over unreservedly. At least, I did. If and when that relationship ends… A person’s field of understanding has suddenly, brutally, expanded. Their perception of relationships and the opposite sex is suddenly influenced by this new wrenching experience. Going forward, you find those with perceptions influenced by one too many heartbreaks… And perceptions get jaded. Maybe cynical.

This is why Israelis and Palestines continue to fight, maybe. They have only grown up on their own side, and have only experienced a life where persecution came from the other side. Their separate perceptions do not harbor objectivity in the same way that a child growing up in Nebraska cannot harbor an idea of what the ocean looks like.

When Heidi and I were in Cork, Ireland, we ate breakfast in our hostel common room one morning, and there was a cartoon playing on the TV. The sound was off, but I was able to follow the story. There was an Evil Dude and, for some reason, he was bent on spreading hatred and discord. Evil Dude brainwashed a middle-aged-dad-looking-Home-Dude and turned him into an Evil Cupid. Dad-Looking-Home-Dude/Evil Cupid then flew around and shot arrows at people. Once hit with an arrow, the victim vehemently hated the next person he or she set eyes on, and the world started erupting in fights and road rage and arguments. When a person was hit with an arrow, the hit person’s eyes turned black. Their hearts turned off. They became cruel.

In one case, a handsome guy that had been previously depicted as very vain got hit with an arrow, and the next thing he saw was his face in a mirror. His eyes turned black, and he was suddenly horrified with his own appearance. He remained just as handsome, but he hated himself—he cringed in humiliation and embarrassment, and wore a paper bag over his head. He tried shaving off his hair, and just descended further into cringing self-loathing.

It was a scary cartoon.

Heidi and I left the hostel common room just as things were starting to turn around, so I know there was some remedy, some happy ending to the story… But the familiarity of those blackened eyes remained with me. We view the world, sometimes, through these blackened eyes. And what’s concerning is that, if our perceptions are being filtered through those eyes, we’re never going to be able to see anything that could change the black to a gentler color. Our world becomes warped through marred perception.

If we indulge in self-loathing, it’s hard to imagine how we could ever find ourselves valuable.

If we are “blinded by love,” we can’t imagine the possibility of fault in the object of our affection.

If we become jaded, it’s hard to imagine hope.

Our perceptions become our world—even if our world is completely different from the objective truth. Like Plato’s cave, if we’ve only ever seen shadows on the wall, we will never understand the concept of dancing bodies behind us.

I don't want to live in a warped universe. I need friends who will call me out, and re-inform my perceptions. I need, as a teacher, to make sure I understand the shape of my students’ worlds before I try to influence it with my own. I need to talk with people that have different opinions than me, and read books that volunteer ideas clashing with my own. I need to travel, and encounter perceptions that have been informed by completely different life experiences and cultures. I need to pray for eyes that see clearly. I need to pray for protection for my heart.

And, I think I could maybe use a good tree climb too. See the world from just a bit higher up.

Returning

I'm at this bustling, sunny, warm Queen Anne cafe right now-- achieving splendid success in my first grad school attempt at procrastinating. I was worried I might have lost the knack since being an under grad... But no. Still got it. Got it strong. Live strong. Like Lance.

Let me tell you something.

I have seen so many things over the past five weeks. You've seen them-- you've been looking at this blog. Heidi and I have clambered over mountain tops, we've slept on racing trains, we've roasted on Italian cliffs, we've gorged ourselves on the finest French delicacies, we've danced until dawn in small Irish towns, and we've guessed and soared and laughed and wondered and wept and sighed.

And now I am home... I am back to what is, supposedly, familiar. I honestly hadn't given "home"-- in the SEATTLE sense-- much thought. I thought of my family, I thought of grad school. I didn't picture what it would be like. I didn't consider whether or not returning would be good or bad or beautiful or new. I just thought, "HOME NOW, HERE WE GO." Better ramp up. Here we go.

This is what it is like:
I rode my bike to school yesterday, and I rode it home. I passed happy, fit Seattleites on the trail-- I was greeted by them and congratulated on the mutual enjoyment of the warm weather. I crossed the Fremont bridge and took in a big breath of water mountain view. I smelled the coming black-berries and remembered discovering that smell last year, and the huge host of sentiments attached to it. I realized that I've been BACK, in Seattle, for a year. I rode my bike, and I LIKED riding my bike, and I liked thinking of myself as a bicycle commuter, because that is what happy fit environmental Seattleites do, we ride bikes, and I was riding my bike, and I was in THIS culture, and I knew that I was a successful person in THIS culture, because I was Burke-Gilmaning.

This afternoon, I am in this sunny cafe, and there are "Adam" comic strips on the cafe wall because the comic that writes "Adam" comes here to drink coffee. I am drinking a macchiato, which is similar to the tiny espresso shots that Heidi and I drank in Europe, but it's stronger, because Seattlites have attitude about espresso and we like to be the toughest, most resilient coffee drinkers ever. This is MY culture-- these are MY people. There are people sitting outside in the adirondack chairs, because it's a sunny day, AND YOU DON'T WASTE THAT.

It's so heart-warmingly familiar.

I'm in school again, and I'm stressed again, and I have homework again. I have books to read, and skills to prove. This too, is familiar, and I love it. I love having my brain stuffed for six hours, and then leaving for some sweet Seattle spot to stuff in some more on my own. I love the intake-- I love returning to this. I haven't been a student for two years. I haven't been a Seattleite for five weeks. I'm back in both, and it's like returning to a hug.

It's such a surprise. I'd forgotten. I hadn't expected. I LOVE this. I do miss the traveling-- especially in the worst school moments when everything is crashing on my head-- but I'm blown away by how much I love what I've come back to. I didn't even do the reflection/analyzation that I usually do either! This warmth has totally snuck up on me-- like a friend holding a flower behind his back and then producing it with a grin and a flourish. See?? Like it?? And I do.

Circumstances are not easy-- I didn't return home to the lowest branch on the tree, I have a daunting climb ahead of me this year-- both in the personal and intellectual spheres. But there is warmth and familiarity and loveliness to cushion the difficulties. I'm so thankful for that.

This is MY culture. This is MY place. This is something new, and it's something I know so well. This is what's ahead of me. This is what I get to embrace.

Oh Yeah... Real Life

Things that are amazing:
My own bed.
Places to PUT things. (I love having places to PUT things!!!)
The shower at my Grandpa's house.
Reacquainting myself with my wardrobe.
Having a cell phone to CALL PEOPLE WITH.

Things that are not:
The millions of logistics that go in hand with starting grad school- oh that's right-- TODAY.
Not having Heidi right next to me.
No more Paris patisseries.
No more Paris.

More intelligent de-briefing/summing up later on... For now... I'm still jet-lagged. What?