I've decided I like getting older.
I like thinking of all that I have to look forward to. I like thinking about being so close to being a teacher-- so much closer than I was two years ago, just after graduation. I like thinking ahead, about finishing my fifth year of teaching, and having so much more figured out by then. I like the SOUND of 25, and I like that it makes me one year more experienced than the kids I'm supposed to be guiding. I like that I LOOK more like a woman. I like knowing that I have climbed mountains that seemed impassable-- that I have walked through some of hell and came out singed, but surviving, I like knowing that I am THAT strong. I like finding the new thoughts every day, and finding the new me in the mirror. I like thinking about all that I've figured out, and I like that one of the figured-out things is that I have so much left yet to figure.
I like thinking about middle-age, and motherhood, and the tired sort-of happiness that must come from the day-ins-and-outs. I like thinking about falling in love-- and do you know what? I really do feel sure that it's going to happen again-- not just the falling in love, because that's not very hard is it? But the staying in love-- I really do feel sure that it's coming. I think I have a while to wait still, but I'm HAPPY to be here. To be me, and to be looked after by a good Lord. To be one year older, and one more bit closer to that meeting, and I like knowing that I will be that much more FULL-HEARTED, and THOUGHT-FILLED when we-- he and I-- discover each other. I like thinking about becoming a counselor, maybe, when I'm ready for a change from teaching. I like thinking about reading books to my children, and nursing them through fevers, and getting muddy with them on rainy days, and buying first prom dresses and renting first tuxedos. I like thinking about putting wrinkle cream on in my 40's, and sighing at getting older, and then grinning at all the wrinkles represent, and maybe going out and getting a new spunky haircut. I like thinking about being old-- about retiring, and then maybe working in a florist shop, just for fun-- and making all the young men tell me about who they're buying flowers for. I like thinking of the fabulous HATS I'll wear over my white hair, and the elaborate walking sticks I'll swing about. I like thinking about being eccentric, and just a little crazy-- crazy enough so that I can say whatever I want-- but WISE enough that my children and grandchildren still come to me for advice. I would like to be wise. Maybe I'll write a book! And where else in the WORLD will I go? Everywhere!
I just feel like I have so much to look FORWARD to.
And I will continue to blow bubbles, and I will continue to slide down stair-railings, and I will continue to jump on available trampolines, and I will continue to believe in fairies, because being 25 only means I have that much more perspective in understanding how utterly SCRUMPTIOUS all those pastimes are.
I feel good about the way I've lived life so far. I like the way I live life. I don't have any regrets-- that's a blessing, isn't it?? And Pastor Richard told me it just keeps getting better from here on out, so PRAISE THE LORD.
And happy birthday to me!
Feb 27, 2009
Freaky Friday
Today, I accidentally did a booty drop in front of 30+ high-school students.
Yeah.
WHOOPS.
I'm helping teach the "Musical Theatre" class now, which means I get to do a lot more theatre stuff with the kids. Theatre was my other major besides English, so I've really been enjoying it. Last semester, I had to just follow along as best I could with Viola's swing dancing class, but THIS semester, I actually feel like I have something to contribute. I've done choreography with the middle-schoolers, contributed to the casting decisions, helped with the singing, and today: did some movement work with the high-schoolers.
To introduce the importance of being able to move with versatility as an actor, I spoke a little about my past experience-- moving from only-being-able-to-move-like-a-ballerina to playing a 60-something-chain-smoking-Chinese-woman-who-walked-as-if-her-bowels-had-just-all-fallen-out-of-her. They grinned at my impressions. Then I called them all up onto the stage, and arranged them in a circle.
"The first thing I'm going to teach you is a movement called the 'undulation,'" I said. "Out of this movement, I'm going to show you all the stages of AGE, like how to play an old person, how to play a kid... It's a basic movement. It goes like this."
"You bend over...."
"When you've bent over as far as you can, you bend your knees, and drop your head..."
"Then you sloooowly roll up, one vertebrate at a time..."
"Then there's this great vomiting motion, where you sort of throw your head up..."
"And then you're back centered over your feet."
"Now, to show you the different stages of age, we actually have to REVERSE this, so we start by tucking our chin and rolling down..."
"Then continue to roll down, one vertebrate at a time..."
"Then once you're all the way down..."
"You lift your head and straighten up."
Easy-peesy, right? I had them all do it a couple times, and then thought of a correction I needed to give, so went into the reverse-undulation quickly so that I could demonstrate it myself. But, turns out, when you do the undulation in reverse QUICKLY...
It looks.
Like a booty drop.
YEAH.
I realized my HORRIBLE mistake half-way up, just about the time the class realized WHAT WAS GOING ON and dissolved into laughter. I turned bright red and started laughing too. "WHOOPS...! Definitely did NOT mean to do that!!"
And they kept on laughing and talking, and I kept being red, and I kept laughing, and saying things like, "Wow. Okay. Okay, I'm sorry, daaang..." And turned around to the kids behind me, and said, "Yeah, sorry guys..."
Finally I said, "Right. So: no one's allowed to feel self-conscious now. Let's try it again.
"Um... Without the suggestive club-dancing."
So we did.
And we had a great time. :)
Yeah.
WHOOPS.
I'm helping teach the "Musical Theatre" class now, which means I get to do a lot more theatre stuff with the kids. Theatre was my other major besides English, so I've really been enjoying it. Last semester, I had to just follow along as best I could with Viola's swing dancing class, but THIS semester, I actually feel like I have something to contribute. I've done choreography with the middle-schoolers, contributed to the casting decisions, helped with the singing, and today: did some movement work with the high-schoolers.
To introduce the importance of being able to move with versatility as an actor, I spoke a little about my past experience-- moving from only-being-able-to-move-like-a-ballerina to playing a 60-something-chain-smoking-Chinese-woman-who-walked-as-if-her-bowels-had-just-all-fallen-out-of-her. They grinned at my impressions. Then I called them all up onto the stage, and arranged them in a circle.
"The first thing I'm going to teach you is a movement called the 'undulation,'" I said. "Out of this movement, I'm going to show you all the stages of AGE, like how to play an old person, how to play a kid... It's a basic movement. It goes like this."
"You bend over...."
"When you've bent over as far as you can, you bend your knees, and drop your head..."
"Then you sloooowly roll up, one vertebrate at a time..."
"Then there's this great vomiting motion, where you sort of throw your head up..."
"And then you're back centered over your feet."
"Now, to show you the different stages of age, we actually have to REVERSE this, so we start by tucking our chin and rolling down..."
"Then continue to roll down, one vertebrate at a time..."
"Then once you're all the way down..."
"You lift your head and straighten up."
Easy-peesy, right? I had them all do it a couple times, and then thought of a correction I needed to give, so went into the reverse-undulation quickly so that I could demonstrate it myself. But, turns out, when you do the undulation in reverse QUICKLY...
It looks.
Like a booty drop.
YEAH.
I realized my HORRIBLE mistake half-way up, just about the time the class realized WHAT WAS GOING ON and dissolved into laughter. I turned bright red and started laughing too. "WHOOPS...! Definitely did NOT mean to do that!!"
And they kept on laughing and talking, and I kept being red, and I kept laughing, and saying things like, "Wow. Okay. Okay, I'm sorry, daaang..." And turned around to the kids behind me, and said, "Yeah, sorry guys..."
Finally I said, "Right. So: no one's allowed to feel self-conscious now. Let's try it again.
"Um... Without the suggestive club-dancing."
So we did.
And we had a great time. :)
Feb 26, 2009
Teacher Talk
"Greta. Where did you get a red flare?"
"I stole it from a cafe in Nashville."
"They're my FAVORITE pens to grade with!"
"The Frothy Monkey. I intended to give it back."
"They're really hard to find!"
"But I just liked it so much. I feel really guilty."
"You stole it?"
"I promised I would return it too. They gave me permission to borrow, but then I thieved. It's just such a perfect grading pen."
"I know. I don't blame you."
"Maybe I'll mail it back someday."
Maybe I won't.
"I stole it from a cafe in Nashville."
"They're my FAVORITE pens to grade with!"
"The Frothy Monkey. I intended to give it back."
"They're really hard to find!"
"But I just liked it so much. I feel really guilty."
"You stole it?"
"I promised I would return it too. They gave me permission to borrow, but then I thieved. It's just such a perfect grading pen."
"I know. I don't blame you."
"Maybe I'll mail it back someday."
Maybe I won't.
Feb 25, 2009
"Do you WANT me to chase you down? Because I will."
And then, I did.
5th period was NUTS today. When Keith was asked to go out in the hall because he was being so disruptive, he decided to just split. As I saw him making a bee-line down the hallway, I leaned out the classroom door and suggested he work at a table near the room. He looked over at his shoulder at me, and kept on walking.
And so I said the thing. And then did the chase.
And we talked, and got things resolved, and he came back, and we outlined his paper, and then things were fine.
When I went back into the classroom, Craig waved his arms above his head and said, "Greta!"
"Craig, I'll have to help you in a second, I'm still working with someone else."
"Oh no-- I just wanted to know if the CHASE was over!"
I rolled my eyes and laughed. "Yes. The chase has been over for some time."
GadZOOKS. I shouldn't worry so much about looking young. These kids are going to make me ooold faaaaast.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
On another note, our boys' basketball team has been accomplishing steady win after win; last night, they won a game that will take them all the way to state.
This is HUGE deal. We are a tiny school. Our kids are poor. Nobody believes in us. And our motley crew is going up against these small ritzy private schools and playing their hearts out and WINNING. Yesterday, the school declared an emergency field trip and, at 1:30, sent two bus-loads of kids down south to get to the game in time, which started at 3:00. We don't have cheer-leaders; at the last game I attended, two of our girls got up in front and led our school in makeshift cheers, while the opposing side's squad did flips and lifts and jumps in pristine matching uniforms. But we WON. Today, we had a pep rally-- something which almost never occurs, because we basically don't DO sports-- and the school hollered its heart out. I found out that one boy, who was homeless only a couple years ago, is being recruited by Seattle Lutheran and may actually be able to go to college on a scholarship.
And now we're going to state. How awesome is that??
5th period was NUTS today. When Keith was asked to go out in the hall because he was being so disruptive, he decided to just split. As I saw him making a bee-line down the hallway, I leaned out the classroom door and suggested he work at a table near the room. He looked over at his shoulder at me, and kept on walking.
And so I said the thing. And then did the chase.
And we talked, and got things resolved, and he came back, and we outlined his paper, and then things were fine.
When I went back into the classroom, Craig waved his arms above his head and said, "Greta!"
"Craig, I'll have to help you in a second, I'm still working with someone else."
"Oh no-- I just wanted to know if the CHASE was over!"
I rolled my eyes and laughed. "Yes. The chase has been over for some time."
GadZOOKS. I shouldn't worry so much about looking young. These kids are going to make me ooold faaaaast.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
On another note, our boys' basketball team has been accomplishing steady win after win; last night, they won a game that will take them all the way to state.
This is HUGE deal. We are a tiny school. Our kids are poor. Nobody believes in us. And our motley crew is going up against these small ritzy private schools and playing their hearts out and WINNING. Yesterday, the school declared an emergency field trip and, at 1:30, sent two bus-loads of kids down south to get to the game in time, which started at 3:00. We don't have cheer-leaders; at the last game I attended, two of our girls got up in front and led our school in makeshift cheers, while the opposing side's squad did flips and lifts and jumps in pristine matching uniforms. But we WON. Today, we had a pep rally-- something which almost never occurs, because we basically don't DO sports-- and the school hollered its heart out. I found out that one boy, who was homeless only a couple years ago, is being recruited by Seattle Lutheran and may actually be able to go to college on a scholarship.
And now we're going to state. How awesome is that??
Feb 24, 2009
Burned CDs and Burning Rubber
I was making copies in the staff lounge when Mike the Photography Teacher came in; this is a man I’ve talked to probably twice in my life.
“So how can I get one of your CDs?” he asked.
“What?” I asked, surprised.
“The kids are playing your CD in my class!” he said. “And they’re singing along, they know all the words!”
“What?!” I said. “Are you serious?!”
“Yeah!”
“Oh my gosh… I gave out some of those as prizes when we played Grammar Jeopardy in class—I can’t believe they’re playing them in your class--!”
“They LOVE it!” he said. “I’d really like one—you remind me of like a 70’s folk singer.”
“Thanks...” I said, turning red. “I’m embarrassed, but flattered.”
Another teacher came in. “You have a CD?” she asked.
“Well, I gave out burned CDs when we played Grammar Jeopardy, as prizes—but initially, I’d just brought in mix CDs of my favorite music. But then the kids asked, ‘Are these YOUR songs?’ and I said, ‘No! I’m not going to try to push my music off on you guys.’ But they said, ‘Well we’d want the CD if they were YOUR songs!’... So I brought in a couple of burned CDs the next day of my music... Oh my gosh, and they know the words??”
He smiled. “All of them. They really care about you. It’s obvious they really care about you. So what do you think, can I pay you for one?”
“No, don’t PAY me.”
“I insist, I’d want to give you something.”
“Well, buy me coffee then. But sure, I’ll bring one in for you.”
When I got back to the classroom, Viola reiterated the same thing. “I forgot to tell you! When you were gone last Friday, all the kids were talking about your songs!”
What a funny, unexpected start to a dreary, rainy morning. My favorite part was when he said, "It's obvious they really care about you." Good words.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
Remember when I blogged about the students who were like peeing puppy dogs? Raoul is another one. Huge dark brown eyes with long lashes, a sweet temperament, a good heart-- and he never gets his work in. Some of my Latino boys have developed a trick with me: they ask for ONE MORE DAY to get it done, and give me some excuse for why that's valid. Usually it's because they were absent. (Which is usually because they were skipping class.) If I show any signs of wavering (which I usually do), they try to sweeten the deal. "How about for half-credit? Please?"
"Raoul, I need your reading journal."
"But I was gone."
"I know, that's why I need it now. It was due before break."
"But couldn't I have an extra day to get it in, since I was absent?"
"No, because it was due BEFORE break. You had an entire extra WEEK to get it done."
"You always say no to me! Why do you always say no to me?"
"I do NOT always say no to you, I have given you sooo many breaks, Raoul."
"No you don't, you always say no--"
"Raoul. This was due BEFORE BREAK. I will give you until the end of the day to turn in whatever you've got. If I don't see it by the end of the day, you're getting zero credit, and I won't accept it late. Okay?"
He grumbled and muttered.
"So DON'T FORGET to turn it in at the end of the day. Write it on your hand or something."
Raoul has done this before. He "forgets" to come back at the end of the day, gets his extra time, and then usually manages to get his credit.
In fifth period, one of the other Latino boys asked if he could turn his in-class assignment in at the end of the day, just to have a little more time. "Yes. And remind Raoul that he HAS to bring me his reading journal, otherwise I'm not accepting it at all."
"I will. Thanks Greta."
After school I waited. No Raoul. No George.
Grumpily, I packed up my stuff, and rehearsed in my head the conversations that I imagined ensuing the next day. "But I forgot!" "You must think I'm so stupid, Raoul..." They ALWAYS do this. Stupid peeing puppy dogs.
As I was driving away from the school, I saw the two of them along with some of their friends out of the corner of my eye, all waiting for their Metro bus. "THEM!" I thought. I screeched my car to a halt, pulling over on the side of the road. In my rear-view mirror, I could see them staring at my lit tail-lights in curiosity. Then, as soon as the road was clear, I whipped my car around in a U-turn and pulled up alongside the curb. Their eyes got big. I rolled down my window and smiled cheerfully.
"Raoul! George! I just wanted to let you know that you can slide your stuff under the door!"
"What...?" Raoul asked.
"When you go back to the classroom to turn in your reading journal. Because you were planning on doing that, right? Just go ahead, and slide it under the door!"
George untangled himself from the female he'd been draping. "What? You need my reading journal?"
"No, I need your in-class assignment, and Raoul's journal."
"Do you need anything from ME?!" their friend asked in panic.
"No Jose, you're fine."
Raoul had pulled his coat up over his grinning face. George turned to him, "Dude, I'm not done with mine."
"Or you can just give it to me now," I told Raoul.
"Noo... I'll go back and turn it in..." he said, grinning in spite of himself.
"Alright then. See you later!"
And I whipped my car back around and sped off. Lesson to me? No more allowing these boys to "turn things in at the end of the day." Lesson to them? I can, and will, HUNT THEM DOWN.
“So how can I get one of your CDs?” he asked.
“What?” I asked, surprised.
“The kids are playing your CD in my class!” he said. “And they’re singing along, they know all the words!”
“What?!” I said. “Are you serious?!”
“Yeah!”
“Oh my gosh… I gave out some of those as prizes when we played Grammar Jeopardy in class—I can’t believe they’re playing them in your class--!”
“They LOVE it!” he said. “I’d really like one—you remind me of like a 70’s folk singer.”
“Thanks...” I said, turning red. “I’m embarrassed, but flattered.”
Another teacher came in. “You have a CD?” she asked.
“Well, I gave out burned CDs when we played Grammar Jeopardy, as prizes—but initially, I’d just brought in mix CDs of my favorite music. But then the kids asked, ‘Are these YOUR songs?’ and I said, ‘No! I’m not going to try to push my music off on you guys.’ But they said, ‘Well we’d want the CD if they were YOUR songs!’... So I brought in a couple of burned CDs the next day of my music... Oh my gosh, and they know the words??”
He smiled. “All of them. They really care about you. It’s obvious they really care about you. So what do you think, can I pay you for one?”
“No, don’t PAY me.”
“I insist, I’d want to give you something.”
“Well, buy me coffee then. But sure, I’ll bring one in for you.”
When I got back to the classroom, Viola reiterated the same thing. “I forgot to tell you! When you were gone last Friday, all the kids were talking about your songs!”
What a funny, unexpected start to a dreary, rainy morning. My favorite part was when he said, "It's obvious they really care about you." Good words.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
Remember when I blogged about the students who were like peeing puppy dogs? Raoul is another one. Huge dark brown eyes with long lashes, a sweet temperament, a good heart-- and he never gets his work in. Some of my Latino boys have developed a trick with me: they ask for ONE MORE DAY to get it done, and give me some excuse for why that's valid. Usually it's because they were absent. (Which is usually because they were skipping class.) If I show any signs of wavering (which I usually do), they try to sweeten the deal. "How about for half-credit? Please?"
"Raoul, I need your reading journal."
"But I was gone."
"I know, that's why I need it now. It was due before break."
"But couldn't I have an extra day to get it in, since I was absent?"
"No, because it was due BEFORE break. You had an entire extra WEEK to get it done."
"You always say no to me! Why do you always say no to me?"
"I do NOT always say no to you, I have given you sooo many breaks, Raoul."
"No you don't, you always say no--"
"Raoul. This was due BEFORE BREAK. I will give you until the end of the day to turn in whatever you've got. If I don't see it by the end of the day, you're getting zero credit, and I won't accept it late. Okay?"
He grumbled and muttered.
"So DON'T FORGET to turn it in at the end of the day. Write it on your hand or something."
Raoul has done this before. He "forgets" to come back at the end of the day, gets his extra time, and then usually manages to get his credit.
In fifth period, one of the other Latino boys asked if he could turn his in-class assignment in at the end of the day, just to have a little more time. "Yes. And remind Raoul that he HAS to bring me his reading journal, otherwise I'm not accepting it at all."
"I will. Thanks Greta."
After school I waited. No Raoul. No George.
Grumpily, I packed up my stuff, and rehearsed in my head the conversations that I imagined ensuing the next day. "But I forgot!" "You must think I'm so stupid, Raoul..." They ALWAYS do this. Stupid peeing puppy dogs.
As I was driving away from the school, I saw the two of them along with some of their friends out of the corner of my eye, all waiting for their Metro bus. "THEM!" I thought. I screeched my car to a halt, pulling over on the side of the road. In my rear-view mirror, I could see them staring at my lit tail-lights in curiosity. Then, as soon as the road was clear, I whipped my car around in a U-turn and pulled up alongside the curb. Their eyes got big. I rolled down my window and smiled cheerfully.
"Raoul! George! I just wanted to let you know that you can slide your stuff under the door!"
"What...?" Raoul asked.
"When you go back to the classroom to turn in your reading journal. Because you were planning on doing that, right? Just go ahead, and slide it under the door!"
George untangled himself from the female he'd been draping. "What? You need my reading journal?"
"No, I need your in-class assignment, and Raoul's journal."
"Do you need anything from ME?!" their friend asked in panic.
"No Jose, you're fine."
Raoul had pulled his coat up over his grinning face. George turned to him, "Dude, I'm not done with mine."
"Or you can just give it to me now," I told Raoul.
"Noo... I'll go back and turn it in..." he said, grinning in spite of himself.
"Alright then. See you later!"
And I whipped my car back around and sped off. Lesson to me? No more allowing these boys to "turn things in at the end of the day." Lesson to them? I can, and will, HUNT THEM DOWN.
Feb 23, 2009
Wanted: One Shopping Cart
Am considering a daily blog for lent. Why?
Well. Because my blogs tend to be far too verbose for your average internet reader, and I think short daily blogs would be good practice in brevity. And might perhaps provide a more steady chronicle of daily life.
(But Greta: isn't Lenten activity generally supposed to bring you closer to God?)
Well.
Perhaps I will try this daily blogging for the next 40-ish days, and do something else for Lent.
These are my Monday thoughts:
Easily, my least favorite part of every day is getting from my house to my car, and then again from my car to the classroom. Why? Because I carry these things:
Binder. (Huge. Stuffed. Heavy.)
Satchel. (Huge. Stuffed. Heavy.)
Purse (Filled with SO MANY UNNECESSARY THINGS, making it huge, stuffed, and heavy.)
Lunch (Little. Important. Cumbersome.)
Coffee (Delicious. Vital. Incommodious.)
Keys. (For which to open car and classroom.)
That means I look like this:
Sometimes I drop things. Boy is that ever a pain.
The worst part is when I'm trying to unlock the classroom door. I usually wear my school key around my neck (cause duh, my hands are full), so I have to stoop over, use my two free fingers to work the key in the lock, fling the door open wide enough to catch it with my foot, and then kick the door open with my leg. There are always boys playing Magic cards outside our door. Which means I always have a captive audience.
Also, I'm usually wearing heels. Which makes the bag-lady depiction that much more ridiculous, and that much more tippy-toppy.
The binder is the worst. Boy, do I hate that binder. But I file things away in it daily, and on the days when I've left it at home, I've usually needed it.
Why do I have so many things? Why can I not brevity my life? Why do I not excise cargo the way I excise superfluous words in my students' papers?
Probably because I usually have too many words in papers.
And that is the end of my life.
Well. Because my blogs tend to be far too verbose for your average internet reader, and I think short daily blogs would be good practice in brevity. And might perhaps provide a more steady chronicle of daily life.
(But Greta: isn't Lenten activity generally supposed to bring you closer to God?)
Well.
Perhaps I will try this daily blogging for the next 40-ish days, and do something else for Lent.
These are my Monday thoughts:
Easily, my least favorite part of every day is getting from my house to my car, and then again from my car to the classroom. Why? Because I carry these things:
Binder. (Huge. Stuffed. Heavy.)
Satchel. (Huge. Stuffed. Heavy.)
Purse (Filled with SO MANY UNNECESSARY THINGS, making it huge, stuffed, and heavy.)
Lunch (Little. Important. Cumbersome.)
Coffee (Delicious. Vital. Incommodious.)
Keys. (For which to open car and classroom.)
That means I look like this:
Sometimes I drop things. Boy is that ever a pain.
The worst part is when I'm trying to unlock the classroom door. I usually wear my school key around my neck (cause duh, my hands are full), so I have to stoop over, use my two free fingers to work the key in the lock, fling the door open wide enough to catch it with my foot, and then kick the door open with my leg. There are always boys playing Magic cards outside our door. Which means I always have a captive audience.
Also, I'm usually wearing heels. Which makes the bag-lady depiction that much more ridiculous, and that much more tippy-toppy.
The binder is the worst. Boy, do I hate that binder. But I file things away in it daily, and on the days when I've left it at home, I've usually needed it.
Why do I have so many things? Why can I not brevity my life? Why do I not excise cargo the way I excise superfluous words in my students' papers?
Probably because I usually have too many words in papers.
And that is the end of my life.
Feb 22, 2009
Feedback
Andre--
I've seen good work from you, but this does not show what you're capable of doing. Viola and I have given you a LOT of extensions, and extra help, and grade boosts this year, but it's time you stepped up.
I know what you COULD be and I know what you CAN do. But being that and doing that are choices that you have to make.
Hope you do.
Grade: 54/100
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Theo--
This is what I think:
1.) You are a GIFTED writer. Many exclamation points.
2.) It seems like you will expound and dive in to prompts that INTEREST you, but only make half-hearted (at best?) efforts at prompts that don't.
3.) I suggest you be pro-active about this. If you don't like a prompt, talk to Viola or me about coming up with a "Theo Special" that you can actually sink your teeth into. (Are you looking into [name of an alternative school] for next year? That kind of student-led curriculum seems tailor-made for a smarty-pants like you.) (I mean that in a good way.)
4.) Don't NOT talk to us about coming up with a Theo Special because you think a Theo Special might mean more work. You are a GIFTED, TALENTED WRITER but we can't help you get better if you turn in lame responses to (what you may consider) lame prompts.
5.) Also, just, "in the real world" FYI... You WILL have to B.S. good writing to lame prompts. Sometimes, you'll just have to suck it up-- and it will benefit you to do so.
6.) But in the meantime-- let's get you writing about stuff you're genuinely interested in. Because the results are superb.
Okay?
Grade: 86/100
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Isaac, we've given you SO many second chances in this class... After you re-took the essay final, you told me you were going to start doing your best work the FIRST time around... But you only have 2 freewrites out of 5. :(
I'm disappointed Isaac-- I know you can do better than this.
Grade: 28/100
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Sothini is an African immigrant who is an English Language Learner.
Sothini-- you are a beautiful writer! Your language mechanics still have a little ways to go, but you've already vastly improved since the beginning of the year, and I am SO impressed with your descriptions, poetic phrasing, and analogies. Keep it up girl-- you are a WRITER!!
Grade: 87/100
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Wish I could have read your thoughts on the last two freewrites Eduardo.
My opinion? You should go to college and major in creative writing. You've got a perceptive mind and a heart that KNOWS things. If you got your motivation up to speed, you'd be unstoppable.
I'D buy a book with your name on it.
Grade: 65/100
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I posted Amanda's thoughts about true love in an earlier blog.
Amanda-- I just have to say that I was so moved after reading the story about your dad-- especially when thinking about the sweet, positive, kind girl that it happened to. I mistook your cheerful spirit for naivete, thinking that maybe you just hadn't experienced real heartbreak yet-- but I see that life has been tough on you already. I'm so sorry for that. :( But I feel that much more impressed by your lovely, hopeful demeanor. Hang on to that hope Amanda-- life continues to be alternately stormy and beautiful, but HOPE is a life preserver that will help you stay afloat; it is one of the truest, most steadfast gifts we will ever have. Remember, in the darkest times, that light is around the corner-- and YOU have the kind of eyes that will find it.
I love your heart Amanda. You inspire me! :)
Grade: 98/100
I've seen good work from you, but this does not show what you're capable of doing. Viola and I have given you a LOT of extensions, and extra help, and grade boosts this year, but it's time you stepped up.
I know what you COULD be and I know what you CAN do. But being that and doing that are choices that you have to make.
Hope you do.
Grade: 54/100
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Theo--
This is what I think:
1.) You are a GIFTED writer. Many exclamation points.
2.) It seems like you will expound and dive in to prompts that INTEREST you, but only make half-hearted (at best?) efforts at prompts that don't.
3.) I suggest you be pro-active about this. If you don't like a prompt, talk to Viola or me about coming up with a "Theo Special" that you can actually sink your teeth into. (Are you looking into [name of an alternative school] for next year? That kind of student-led curriculum seems tailor-made for a smarty-pants like you.) (I mean that in a good way.)
4.) Don't NOT talk to us about coming up with a Theo Special because you think a Theo Special might mean more work. You are a GIFTED, TALENTED WRITER but we can't help you get better if you turn in lame responses to (what you may consider) lame prompts.
5.) Also, just, "in the real world" FYI... You WILL have to B.S. good writing to lame prompts. Sometimes, you'll just have to suck it up-- and it will benefit you to do so.
6.) But in the meantime-- let's get you writing about stuff you're genuinely interested in. Because the results are superb.
Okay?
Grade: 86/100
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Isaac, we've given you SO many second chances in this class... After you re-took the essay final, you told me you were going to start doing your best work the FIRST time around... But you only have 2 freewrites out of 5. :(
I'm disappointed Isaac-- I know you can do better than this.
Grade: 28/100
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Sothini is an African immigrant who is an English Language Learner.
Sothini-- you are a beautiful writer! Your language mechanics still have a little ways to go, but you've already vastly improved since the beginning of the year, and I am SO impressed with your descriptions, poetic phrasing, and analogies. Keep it up girl-- you are a WRITER!!
Grade: 87/100
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Wish I could have read your thoughts on the last two freewrites Eduardo.
My opinion? You should go to college and major in creative writing. You've got a perceptive mind and a heart that KNOWS things. If you got your motivation up to speed, you'd be unstoppable.
I'D buy a book with your name on it.
Grade: 65/100
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I posted Amanda's thoughts about true love in an earlier blog.
Amanda-- I just have to say that I was so moved after reading the story about your dad-- especially when thinking about the sweet, positive, kind girl that it happened to. I mistook your cheerful spirit for naivete, thinking that maybe you just hadn't experienced real heartbreak yet-- but I see that life has been tough on you already. I'm so sorry for that. :( But I feel that much more impressed by your lovely, hopeful demeanor. Hang on to that hope Amanda-- life continues to be alternately stormy and beautiful, but HOPE is a life preserver that will help you stay afloat; it is one of the truest, most steadfast gifts we will ever have. Remember, in the darkest times, that light is around the corner-- and YOU have the kind of eyes that will find it.
I love your heart Amanda. You inspire me! :)
Grade: 98/100
Feb 21, 2009
If I Was a Vampire, Things Would Be Different
This Seattle sunshine is killing me.
All I want to do is go OUT in it, and PLAY in it, and find a swing to SWING in it, and ride my BIKE in it.
And I have so.
Much.
HOMEWORK.
I'm playing serious catch-up after Nashville, and more than anything, I need to be diligent and productive, and... and...
Not spending five minutes gazing longingly out the window. This kind of weather in February is unbelievable!! I CAN'T, I just CANNOT let slip by me unappreciated.
This may be too much for me. I'll remember the bike-ride more than the online discussion posts, right...?
Feb 20, 2009
Ruminating
My Grandpa and Grandma traveled all over the world when they were younger. As a result, their house is full of fascinating knick-knacks and tools and pictures and things. In Gramps' living room, there is this little glass fish in a little glass fish-bowl:
It looks sizable when you look at it from the side, but look at it from above:
Way smaller, huh? The glass must somehow magnify it. Don't know how. The little glass fish in the little glass fishbowl is very heavy-- but it's that imperial sort of weight which lends importance and esteem to the subject.
I remember once last winter, when I was still working at my boring desk job, and Annie had just embarked on her Big Trip, I sat in the living room, staring sullenly at this glass fish.
It was immobile. Stuck. Frozen. The three tiny air-bubbles that had been carefully contrived by the artist remained paralyzed in their glass encasement. A pretty little red fish, with nowhere to go, and no room for breathing.
Then I looked out the window and saw birds swooping past: heading south for the winter.
I thought of myself, and thought of my job: Fish.
I thought of Annie, who I imagined that moment to be racing down some long interstate at 75mph, her life packed away in her car, her stereo cranked, and her Tomorrow uncharted: Bird.
That image is perhaps not as relevant this year: being in grad school gives my life a decided feeling of momentum, and I no longer feel stuck. And, as this blog entry suggests, the last 7 months have been much more about trying to catch my balance in a state of upheaval-- not feeling stuck in the mud.
But with that pulling up of the anchor, I look ahead to next year and find it entirely uncharted. I have NO idea where I'll be, come September. I need to find a teaching job-- but Seattle's offerings are few and far-between. At least three different districts that I know of are in hiring freezes. I could try around other areas of Washington, but that sounds less appealing. Move to a brand new city, where I know no one? Where I have no interest, and no connections? In considering options of where this brutal economy might be able to offer up a classroom, I started mentally casting the net wide. Maybe I could go to Scotland? Love those Scots. Maybe I could go to Korea? They supposedly pay teachers really well over there. Maybe I could live in Nashville? How fun would it be to live near Annie again, and enjoy the music of that town!
This last week provided a chance to give the city another look. I flew into Nashville on the 13th, and stayed through the 18th. I LOVED it. I roomed with Annie in her Princess Tower bedroom, bonded with her roommates, was utterly charmed by her guy friends, ran (then walked) with her Running Group, went to church, went to her church small group, and soaked in fantastic music at several different shows. We wined-and-cheesed; we tried on different outfits for different events; we Valentined; we imbibed; we walked and had long talks; we side-by-side facebooked; we ran errands together and ate samples at Whole Foods. There were delightfully ridiculous moments too: on the run, my walking buddy, Cara, and I got hopelessly lost and kept returning to the same heart-covered Valentine's mailbox, trying to get our bearings. We hollered at the mailbox, and hollered at the street signs, and hollered out the names of the running crew, and giggled with one another, and marveled at our bewilderment with elated solidarity. The first night out, that Friday, Annie got her car towed (ugh.) But pleading with the ancient tow-truck man provided a silver lining: our melodramatic beseeching (which, incidentally, occurred next to a snoring, scratching, pot-bellied man on the adjacent couch) completely un-phased the wizened old man, but left us turning our faces in silent, eruptive laughter. The last night found Annie and I at the Pennsylvania boys' house, helping them prepare dinner. My main contribution consisted of reading aloud a children's book about "How Babies Get Made" in a Mary Poppins accent. And even though I was sniffling, sneezing, coughing, and hoarse the whole week, I felt completely at ease in my company. I felt at home.
As I boarded the plane on Wednesday that would take me back north for the rest of the winter, I thought again of my open-ended September. How much fun would it be to live in Nashville next year?
There are pros, and obvious cons-- not being able to see Gramps every day would be sad, and hard. I would be so far away from my family, and THAT would be sad, and hard. Impracticalities and complex logistics abound, but-- the idea has been planted. And I'm praying about it. And I'm thinking about it.
The little glass fish in the little glass fish bowl is a pretty thing to look at-- but a tiresome thing to be. The anchor's already been pulled loose... Next fall, I may just fly south.
It looks sizable when you look at it from the side, but look at it from above:
Way smaller, huh? The glass must somehow magnify it. Don't know how. The little glass fish in the little glass fishbowl is very heavy-- but it's that imperial sort of weight which lends importance and esteem to the subject.
I remember once last winter, when I was still working at my boring desk job, and Annie had just embarked on her Big Trip, I sat in the living room, staring sullenly at this glass fish.
It was immobile. Stuck. Frozen. The three tiny air-bubbles that had been carefully contrived by the artist remained paralyzed in their glass encasement. A pretty little red fish, with nowhere to go, and no room for breathing.
Then I looked out the window and saw birds swooping past: heading south for the winter.
I thought of myself, and thought of my job: Fish.
I thought of Annie, who I imagined that moment to be racing down some long interstate at 75mph, her life packed away in her car, her stereo cranked, and her Tomorrow uncharted: Bird.
That image is perhaps not as relevant this year: being in grad school gives my life a decided feeling of momentum, and I no longer feel stuck. And, as this blog entry suggests, the last 7 months have been much more about trying to catch my balance in a state of upheaval-- not feeling stuck in the mud.
But with that pulling up of the anchor, I look ahead to next year and find it entirely uncharted. I have NO idea where I'll be, come September. I need to find a teaching job-- but Seattle's offerings are few and far-between. At least three different districts that I know of are in hiring freezes. I could try around other areas of Washington, but that sounds less appealing. Move to a brand new city, where I know no one? Where I have no interest, and no connections? In considering options of where this brutal economy might be able to offer up a classroom, I started mentally casting the net wide. Maybe I could go to Scotland? Love those Scots. Maybe I could go to Korea? They supposedly pay teachers really well over there. Maybe I could live in Nashville? How fun would it be to live near Annie again, and enjoy the music of that town!
This last week provided a chance to give the city another look. I flew into Nashville on the 13th, and stayed through the 18th. I LOVED it. I roomed with Annie in her Princess Tower bedroom, bonded with her roommates, was utterly charmed by her guy friends, ran (then walked) with her Running Group, went to church, went to her church small group, and soaked in fantastic music at several different shows. We wined-and-cheesed; we tried on different outfits for different events; we Valentined; we imbibed; we walked and had long talks; we side-by-side facebooked; we ran errands together and ate samples at Whole Foods. There were delightfully ridiculous moments too: on the run, my walking buddy, Cara, and I got hopelessly lost and kept returning to the same heart-covered Valentine's mailbox, trying to get our bearings. We hollered at the mailbox, and hollered at the street signs, and hollered out the names of the running crew, and giggled with one another, and marveled at our bewilderment with elated solidarity. The first night out, that Friday, Annie got her car towed (ugh.) But pleading with the ancient tow-truck man provided a silver lining: our melodramatic beseeching (which, incidentally, occurred next to a snoring, scratching, pot-bellied man on the adjacent couch) completely un-phased the wizened old man, but left us turning our faces in silent, eruptive laughter. The last night found Annie and I at the Pennsylvania boys' house, helping them prepare dinner. My main contribution consisted of reading aloud a children's book about "How Babies Get Made" in a Mary Poppins accent. And even though I was sniffling, sneezing, coughing, and hoarse the whole week, I felt completely at ease in my company. I felt at home.
As I boarded the plane on Wednesday that would take me back north for the rest of the winter, I thought again of my open-ended September. How much fun would it be to live in Nashville next year?
There are pros, and obvious cons-- not being able to see Gramps every day would be sad, and hard. I would be so far away from my family, and THAT would be sad, and hard. Impracticalities and complex logistics abound, but-- the idea has been planted. And I'm praying about it. And I'm thinking about it.
The little glass fish in the little glass fish bowl is a pretty thing to look at-- but a tiresome thing to be. The anchor's already been pulled loose... Next fall, I may just fly south.
Feb 10, 2009
Bits
Deliberate: Grammar Jeopardy in class tomorrow. To dress or not to dress like Alex Trebek?
Consider: Candy for prizes? Contributing to the growing obesity problem in America perhaps not the best way to enrich young lives and minds. Burned cd's of my favorite music instead? Yesssss.
Avoid homework.
Love the peanut-butter english muffin so deeply. So truly.
Think: What to pack for Nashville??
Get tax 1040 and insurance paperwork ready to mail. (Bow to invisible audience of clappers.)
Panic: Valentines is on Friday. ACK. People I love deserve Valentines, QUICK TO BUY THE HEARTS AND DOILIES.
Blame Facebook. For so many things.
Avoid homework.
Enjoy the word, "mustn't."
Wish for supernatural snapping powers that could clean rooms, a la Mary Poppins.
Dreamed of demons last night. Scary!! Will instruct sub-conscious to find its way to Play-doh and lollipops tonight.
Toss new haircut. Make poochy-lips face in mirror.
Avoid homework.
Write fancy fonts on newly burned cd's. "Greta likes these songs." Yes. Yes, she does.
Feel so heavy-eyed.
Read.
Tuck.
Sleep.
Consider: Candy for prizes? Contributing to the growing obesity problem in America perhaps not the best way to enrich young lives and minds. Burned cd's of my favorite music instead? Yesssss.
Avoid homework.
Love the peanut-butter english muffin so deeply. So truly.
Think: What to pack for Nashville??
Get tax 1040 and insurance paperwork ready to mail. (Bow to invisible audience of clappers.)
Panic: Valentines is on Friday. ACK. People I love deserve Valentines, QUICK TO BUY THE HEARTS AND DOILIES.
Blame Facebook. For so many things.
Avoid homework.
Enjoy the word, "mustn't."
Wish for supernatural snapping powers that could clean rooms, a la Mary Poppins.
Dreamed of demons last night. Scary!! Will instruct sub-conscious to find its way to Play-doh and lollipops tonight.
Toss new haircut. Make poochy-lips face in mirror.
Avoid homework.
Write fancy fonts on newly burned cd's. "Greta likes these songs." Yes. Yes, she does.
Feel so heavy-eyed.
Read.
Tuck.
Sleep.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)