Today's flashback takes a different form.
I was graciously invited to take part in one of the millions of neighborhood inaugural events that were held this past weekend here in PoliticsMeccaUSA. It was a lovely event hosted by a couple of my students. Not knowing a soul, a girlfriend and I showed up and ended up having one of the nicest nights we have both had in a long time.
I was reminded how magical it is to get to know new people.
As the male counterpart of the couple I teach took my arm and led me around the room, I realized that all these people knew me, and yet I had just begun to learn about them as my students' abilities have grown to the level of speaking in-depth about their groups, hobbies, sports teams and the other two couples they bicycle tour with. It was flattering; the wine helped me overcome feeling overwhelmed.
I met one lady that night who, in 1974, went to the Galápagos Islands. She had a resident visa in Ecuador at that time, so she got a military flight for $70, she and her husband were weighed before getting on the plane, and then crates and crates of beer was loaded on after them. As they took off, everyone madly started doing the sign of the cross (South American military plane, early 1970s...can't say I blame them!) and they landed about an hour or so later in the Galápagos. They had to take a boat to the main residential island of Santa Cruz, and stayed in Puerto Ayora. Tourists are no longer allowed to stay on the islands, I believe.
During her week there, she met a Norwegian family that had lived there for a couple generations and, from what she said, they became quite close by the time she and her husband had to return to the mainland.
Fast forward 18 years, to December 1992 when I, on my resident visa in Ecuador, got a non-tourist rate to fly a small commuter plane out to the newer airport on the island of Santa Cruz and stayed for four nights in Puerto Ayora. My first night there I met a man about my same age who took me each night to show me the "natives only" side of the Galápagos while my companions slept in their hostel. It was a purely amazing and one-of-a-kind experience and part of why the Galápagos are considered my personal paradise.
Upon my departure on my fifth day on the Islands, I was given a book by this man, with a message written on the front cover to me, written by a Joanna Angermeyer: "My Father's Island". He knew the people in the book; the author was a personal family friend and he wanted me to have it to always remember why the Galápagos are such a special place to those few who have decided to make their lives there.
The woman's eyes lit up on Monday night when I related this to her. "Angermeyer..." That was the family she had met in her time in the Galápagos back in 1974, when my friend would have only been about 2 years old. It was a serendipitous conversation as we stood there, relating, remembering, allowing ourselves to fall back into an empathetic zone of experiences shared and people known, albeit separated by almost 20 years.
This conversation was one of the many highlights on Monday night, and showed me how important it is to continue to extend myself beyond my comfort zone; I never know what treasures await me there.
And perhaps I should go back and re-read that book this weekend.
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta llearning. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta llearning. Mostrar todas las entradas
viernes, 23 de enero de 2009
lunes, 8 de diciembre de 2008
A cinnamon spiced latte
The snow fell on Saturday evening.
It was a shower at best, but as whatever did fall has stuck around until today, it counts as the first official snowfall of the season. Following a day filled with a strange mix of charity, commercialism and the arts, Princesita, Young Prince and I decided to don our Santa hats, bundle up warm, and walk a mile downtown to the noodle restaurant for dinner.
The experience was glorious.
The air was cold, but hearts were warm as we held hands, sang songs and marvelled at the fact that we were the only ones perhaps crazy enough to be out walking in the cold, wintry night. Heated by the purest warmth of the company of those we love most, even my four year old never once complained of the two mile round-trip distance in the chill.
*---*
A pipe has broken on my street. There is a consequential calm on what is normally a known shortcut from one major street to another as Town workers are braving the sub-freezing temperatures to fix the problem. The water is frozen all over the street a few houses down.
What cracks me up, though, is that there are these two huge flourescent orange signs blocking off the street entrance, which actually state that the street is closed to traffic. You would not believe the number of cars that enter on the opposite lane of traffic, choosing to ignore the signs strategically placed right in their lane to (futilely) attempt to stop them from entering the street in the first place, then having to “lose time” by actually turning around and leaving the way they came in--right in front of my house.
I could sit and watch that all day. I wonder what it is that makes people not see big orange signs? Just coming down the street because they saw someone enter who happens to live on the street and thus has permission to come down the street? The mentality of “Well, if s/he can break the rules, so can I” (when, in reality, those of us living on this street are not breaking any rules)? The idea that, “But I’m different…I have to get to work and this is the only way I ever go, so why should I let a water main break my stride”?
What makes people around here feel above the rules? Or is this a universal truth that I only see as being so blatantly obvious here? Do we feel invincible, that whatever danger is posed can’t in any way hurt us? Then, if we do get into an accident from the ice covering the street, we can turn around and sue the Town…even if they had signs and road blocks up telling us to stay off the street?
Human nature can be so fun to ponder sometimes.
*---*
He is gone for a week for hearings regarding the Alaskan fishing boat disaster of a month ago. I feel so calm when I am alone here, much less lonely than when I am feeling forced into my solitude. He’ll be back for his weekend with the children, which is fine as I have other plans for the weekend. It is funny to me to think that, in all the Christmases had together, I feel more empowered in this one merely because I no longer feel like I’m doing everything alone as I had always felt before. I feel that I am teaching the children about the spirit of the season in a very holistic fashion, and am working hard to keep negative feelings away. This is already one of the most fulfilling Christmas seasons I have had in a decade simply because I am not caving to anyone else’s expectations nor fulfilling gift obligations for a side of the family that I hardly even know.
The resulting stress release is unparalleled!
I’ll get to the Christmas cards when I get to them. I will get my family’s gifts sent out sometime this week. It will be a simpler Christmas for my children with fewer gifts in quantity but the quality will be noted. The gift of the Nutcracker Ballet this past Saturday was the talk out of my children’s mouths all day on Sunday, when we graciously received another gift of food, warmth, laughter and company at a friend’s home for the afternoon. My children are learning about the magic of gifts that are not the touchable, playable type. Of course my children will receive some toys. But I want them to receive so much more--the traditions and the memories that we are establishing together are what cannot be bought by point-and-click shopping…
…and on these gifts, the shipping is always free.
It was a shower at best, but as whatever did fall has stuck around until today, it counts as the first official snowfall of the season. Following a day filled with a strange mix of charity, commercialism and the arts, Princesita, Young Prince and I decided to don our Santa hats, bundle up warm, and walk a mile downtown to the noodle restaurant for dinner.
The experience was glorious.
The air was cold, but hearts were warm as we held hands, sang songs and marvelled at the fact that we were the only ones perhaps crazy enough to be out walking in the cold, wintry night. Heated by the purest warmth of the company of those we love most, even my four year old never once complained of the two mile round-trip distance in the chill.
*---*
A pipe has broken on my street. There is a consequential calm on what is normally a known shortcut from one major street to another as Town workers are braving the sub-freezing temperatures to fix the problem. The water is frozen all over the street a few houses down.
What cracks me up, though, is that there are these two huge flourescent orange signs blocking off the street entrance, which actually state that the street is closed to traffic. You would not believe the number of cars that enter on the opposite lane of traffic, choosing to ignore the signs strategically placed right in their lane to (futilely) attempt to stop them from entering the street in the first place, then having to “lose time” by actually turning around and leaving the way they came in--right in front of my house.
I could sit and watch that all day. I wonder what it is that makes people not see big orange signs? Just coming down the street because they saw someone enter who happens to live on the street and thus has permission to come down the street? The mentality of “Well, if s/he can break the rules, so can I” (when, in reality, those of us living on this street are not breaking any rules)? The idea that, “But I’m different…I have to get to work and this is the only way I ever go, so why should I let a water main break my stride”?
What makes people around here feel above the rules? Or is this a universal truth that I only see as being so blatantly obvious here? Do we feel invincible, that whatever danger is posed can’t in any way hurt us? Then, if we do get into an accident from the ice covering the street, we can turn around and sue the Town…even if they had signs and road blocks up telling us to stay off the street?
Human nature can be so fun to ponder sometimes.
*---*
He is gone for a week for hearings regarding the Alaskan fishing boat disaster of a month ago. I feel so calm when I am alone here, much less lonely than when I am feeling forced into my solitude. He’ll be back for his weekend with the children, which is fine as I have other plans for the weekend. It is funny to me to think that, in all the Christmases had together, I feel more empowered in this one merely because I no longer feel like I’m doing everything alone as I had always felt before. I feel that I am teaching the children about the spirit of the season in a very holistic fashion, and am working hard to keep negative feelings away. This is already one of the most fulfilling Christmas seasons I have had in a decade simply because I am not caving to anyone else’s expectations nor fulfilling gift obligations for a side of the family that I hardly even know.
The resulting stress release is unparalleled!
I’ll get to the Christmas cards when I get to them. I will get my family’s gifts sent out sometime this week. It will be a simpler Christmas for my children with fewer gifts in quantity but the quality will be noted. The gift of the Nutcracker Ballet this past Saturday was the talk out of my children’s mouths all day on Sunday, when we graciously received another gift of food, warmth, laughter and company at a friend’s home for the afternoon. My children are learning about the magic of gifts that are not the touchable, playable type. Of course my children will receive some toys. But I want them to receive so much more--the traditions and the memories that we are establishing together are what cannot be bought by point-and-click shopping…
…and on these gifts, the shipping is always free.
sábado, 11 de octubre de 2008
got it
Got the hint.
Mama Llama-dumb move.
Why did I invite him along in the first place? Stupid reasons, actually.
1. Good old fashioned Catholic guilt.
2. Pity.
3. The bad day I was having when I chose to open my mouth in the first place.
4. Guilt.
5. Attemping to spare him the feelings I go through when I see him leave with the kids.
6. Lack of courage to just do it without checking in first.
7. Did I mention guilt?
I think that, come tomorrow morning, he will not be going with. Which is going to make the day all the more enjoyable for me. However, in the well-established tradition of silence between the two of us, the topic has not again been touched.
Today has been a good day; post-softball game (in which my princesita SOCKED the heck out of the softball on the first pitch each inning, thank you very much!) had me showered and watching She-ra's eldest chase a soccer ball around a sunny field; car got washed and Argentine short story read. Chocolate eaten...
Now I am going to go out for dinner, by myself, and see how that goes. I could do take-out to eat here at home, but I am going to force myself into the social realm. And that is about all I have to say today.
Mama Llama-dumb move.
Why did I invite him along in the first place? Stupid reasons, actually.
1. Good old fashioned Catholic guilt.
2. Pity.
3. The bad day I was having when I chose to open my mouth in the first place.
4. Guilt.
5. Attemping to spare him the feelings I go through when I see him leave with the kids.
6. Lack of courage to just do it without checking in first.
7. Did I mention guilt?
I think that, come tomorrow morning, he will not be going with. Which is going to make the day all the more enjoyable for me. However, in the well-established tradition of silence between the two of us, the topic has not again been touched.
Today has been a good day; post-softball game (in which my princesita SOCKED the heck out of the softball on the first pitch each inning, thank you very much!) had me showered and watching She-ra's eldest chase a soccer ball around a sunny field; car got washed and Argentine short story read. Chocolate eaten...
Now I am going to go out for dinner, by myself, and see how that goes. I could do take-out to eat here at home, but I am going to force myself into the social realm. And that is about all I have to say today.
lunes, 6 de octubre de 2008
clarity
From the darkest moments clarity can shine forth.
Words of others can also help us see what has not previously been clear.
In Windy's memento left on yesterday's post, he said that "There is a perfect man out there waiting for your trail to cross his. And when you meet him it will be like your eyes opened for the first time."
That mere statement shocked me into a realization of that which I had been told I need to do for quite some time, yet perhaps borne of yesterday's desperation I finally internalized the message:
I need to remember how to be ME.
That means a ME without the identity of mother, wife, or teacher attached. How do I retake my identity as the strong person I used to be before I signed that identity away with marriage? I was so strong, independent and content in my 20s. Sure, there were lonely times and mistakes made. But I was comfortable with myself, with who I was and with going to a café to sit by myself with a book and read.
My children have now, for almost seven years, created my identity, both public and private, that I hardly feel I have the courage to go out by myself anymore.
I realized yesterday that this process is much like that which my mother felt when my father died and her two daughters, who were already long out of the house, could not change their lives to be back with her for longer than the 8 month period I took to go to be with her. I don't want to go through this when I'm older; I want to retake my identity NOW. That requires me to learn how to be ME without depending on another to help me define ME. Traveling helps--but why should I have to travel to recreate myself? Why do I need to be out of the country to feel far enough away from my responsibilities and detach enough to let my true Llama-ness come through?
Tough questions, no easy answers. But I am trying, and today can only be better than yesterday.
Words of others can also help us see what has not previously been clear.
In Windy's memento left on yesterday's post, he said that "There is a perfect man out there waiting for your trail to cross his. And when you meet him it will be like your eyes opened for the first time."
That mere statement shocked me into a realization of that which I had been told I need to do for quite some time, yet perhaps borne of yesterday's desperation I finally internalized the message:
I need to remember how to be ME.
That means a ME without the identity of mother, wife, or teacher attached. How do I retake my identity as the strong person I used to be before I signed that identity away with marriage? I was so strong, independent and content in my 20s. Sure, there were lonely times and mistakes made. But I was comfortable with myself, with who I was and with going to a café to sit by myself with a book and read.
My children have now, for almost seven years, created my identity, both public and private, that I hardly feel I have the courage to go out by myself anymore.
I realized yesterday that this process is much like that which my mother felt when my father died and her two daughters, who were already long out of the house, could not change their lives to be back with her for longer than the 8 month period I took to go to be with her. I don't want to go through this when I'm older; I want to retake my identity NOW. That requires me to learn how to be ME without depending on another to help me define ME. Traveling helps--but why should I have to travel to recreate myself? Why do I need to be out of the country to feel far enough away from my responsibilities and detach enough to let my true Llama-ness come through?
Tough questions, no easy answers. But I am trying, and today can only be better than yesterday.
viernes, 3 de octubre de 2008
la luna
In the western horizon of the clear autumnal night, I saw the perfect crescent moon about to be consumed by the tops of the neighborhood trees.
She was smiling at me, apparently unaware of her awaiting fate.
*---*
My mind is on preparing lessons on a unit (advanced Spanish) regarding the Disappeared. Argentina's Dirty War and the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, Colombia and the FARC, Chiapas, the women of the Ciudad de Juárez, Perú...legislation supposedly created to right the wrongs but rather are mere avoidances of blame and justice. It is important, it is history, it continues today and we do not know how lucky we are, really.
Emotionally it is intense and my thoughts are enveloped in these themes, and in Spanish. Blogging words are not coming to me right now. I am reading everyone with blog updates per my Google homepage and yet not commenting as I simply cannot right now.
I will put the Disappeared out of my mind as I help She-ra fix a toilet today. Now, does that not sound like a rockin' Friday afternoon activity?!
*---*
Take a moment this evening to find the moon, wherever you may be.
Smile back at her.
Rejoice in the warmth that fills your heart.
She was smiling at me, apparently unaware of her awaiting fate.
*---*
My mind is on preparing lessons on a unit (advanced Spanish) regarding the Disappeared. Argentina's Dirty War and the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, Colombia and the FARC, Chiapas, the women of the Ciudad de Juárez, Perú...legislation supposedly created to right the wrongs but rather are mere avoidances of blame and justice. It is important, it is history, it continues today and we do not know how lucky we are, really.
Emotionally it is intense and my thoughts are enveloped in these themes, and in Spanish. Blogging words are not coming to me right now. I am reading everyone with blog updates per my Google homepage and yet not commenting as I simply cannot right now.
I will put the Disappeared out of my mind as I help She-ra fix a toilet today. Now, does that not sound like a rockin' Friday afternoon activity?!
*---*
Take a moment this evening to find the moon, wherever you may be.
Smile back at her.
Rejoice in the warmth that fills your heart.
viernes, 12 de septiembre de 2008
passion
Passion is important in every part of our lives. I am a particularly passionate person, very opinionated with strong points of view regarding how I live my life and what I believe to be good and true for me, my family, my country, and my world.
I am a passionate mother, much like many parents are. I could be a passionate wife and lover when with one who can bring that out in me--challenge that passion and match it.
Part of my fabric, which I have learned to be true in my adult life, is my passion for teaching. I am a language teacher, but the first time I taught was violin. I had a student while I was in high school, then had a few while in university. I thought music was my greatest passion; my violin and choral work would evoke such emotions that would bring me to my knees. I had never known such joy or such melancholy as I did when expressing myself with music.
In the second grade I remember answering that I was going to be a teacher. Teaching was always a part of me; Daddy was a math teacher, Mom was an English teacher, my grandmother had a teaching degree from OSU, my uncle retired relatively recently from teaching in Sacramento. I always held all my teachers in highest regard. Clearly I had my favorites, but I respected all my teachers for all they did for me. I can remember every single teacher I have ever had.
Now I am teaching in my own right. Fifteen years of teaching while affiliated with an institution of some sort has given me the confidence to branch out on my own; my teaching evaluations always came back stellar and I resented old-school professors who wouldn't allow me to teach the way I do (student-centered rather than egocentrically me-centered).
Today an ex-student from the uni contacted me. He is an African man about to finish his Ph.D coursework and embark on his dissertation. He needs Spanish to help him fulfill his doctorate in nationality and ethnicity, but is unwilling to continue with the University's program due to the lack of, in his words, 'qualified professors like you who know what they are doing and can actually teach well.' So now, two years after he first took my course, he would rather study with me than earn any credits through the University.
Tonight I met with two new students, both from Iran. These young men are extremely interested in learning Spanish--and with me. One told me today, "Do you know why I contacted you? Let me tell you. I took two advanced courses at the local uni. The professors could not captivate my interest nor keep my attention. They didn't seem to care. So then I went through Spanish Black Belt. Great website, only native speakers teach. But they offer absolutely no substance to back up their marketing. I was surfing around on CraigsList, ready to give up but then saw your ad. I checked out your website and you know what got me? Your enthusiasm. It comes through in your words and in your testimonials. You obviously love what you do. So I figured I should try you out and see if I can complete my goals through you, and here you are meeting with us, letting us get to know you and ask questions all on your time."
Enthusiasm. Passion.
When creating my website, upon deciding to go independent, I struggled with how to market myself without coming across as a braggart. Tonight's feedback told me that, to at least a couple choosey customers, I have succeeded in that quest.
Now I only hope not to let anybody down.
I am a passionate mother, much like many parents are. I could be a passionate wife and lover when with one who can bring that out in me--challenge that passion and match it.
Part of my fabric, which I have learned to be true in my adult life, is my passion for teaching. I am a language teacher, but the first time I taught was violin. I had a student while I was in high school, then had a few while in university. I thought music was my greatest passion; my violin and choral work would evoke such emotions that would bring me to my knees. I had never known such joy or such melancholy as I did when expressing myself with music.
In the second grade I remember answering that I was going to be a teacher. Teaching was always a part of me; Daddy was a math teacher, Mom was an English teacher, my grandmother had a teaching degree from OSU, my uncle retired relatively recently from teaching in Sacramento. I always held all my teachers in highest regard. Clearly I had my favorites, but I respected all my teachers for all they did for me. I can remember every single teacher I have ever had.
Now I am teaching in my own right. Fifteen years of teaching while affiliated with an institution of some sort has given me the confidence to branch out on my own; my teaching evaluations always came back stellar and I resented old-school professors who wouldn't allow me to teach the way I do (student-centered rather than egocentrically me-centered).
Today an ex-student from the uni contacted me. He is an African man about to finish his Ph.D coursework and embark on his dissertation. He needs Spanish to help him fulfill his doctorate in nationality and ethnicity, but is unwilling to continue with the University's program due to the lack of, in his words, 'qualified professors like you who know what they are doing and can actually teach well.' So now, two years after he first took my course, he would rather study with me than earn any credits through the University.
Tonight I met with two new students, both from Iran. These young men are extremely interested in learning Spanish--and with me. One told me today, "Do you know why I contacted you? Let me tell you. I took two advanced courses at the local uni. The professors could not captivate my interest nor keep my attention. They didn't seem to care. So then I went through Spanish Black Belt. Great website, only native speakers teach. But they offer absolutely no substance to back up their marketing. I was surfing around on CraigsList, ready to give up but then saw your ad. I checked out your website and you know what got me? Your enthusiasm. It comes through in your words and in your testimonials. You obviously love what you do. So I figured I should try you out and see if I can complete my goals through you, and here you are meeting with us, letting us get to know you and ask questions all on your time."
Enthusiasm. Passion.
When creating my website, upon deciding to go independent, I struggled with how to market myself without coming across as a braggart. Tonight's feedback told me that, to at least a couple choosey customers, I have succeeded in that quest.
Now I only hope not to let anybody down.
jueves, 4 de septiembre de 2008
expectations and sacrifice
I was speaking to a close friend yesterday about the theme of my last post; namely, the realization that I am the ideal partner for my children's father in that I am everything for him--but how my needs are not met nor have ever really been a priority in the history of our relationship.
Anybody who knows me well knows that I have guilt issues with receiving. I can give-give-give but have come to learn, especially in the past few years of my evolution of character, that a great part of giving is also receiving. Perhaps it is partially this realization that has stirred such discontent in my marital life; a discontent I thought, eight years ago, I would be able to overcome and learn to live with.
So I was asked yesterday a key question:
"Have you ever thought that maybe your expectations are too high?"
-Sure, they are.
"Maybe you should lower them?"
-Okay, so I lower them, like I have done in the past and I still end up sacrificing my needs. I feel like I deserve better. Why should I have to be the one to always compromise so much?
Yeah, I can be selfish like that.
"What exactly is it that you need? What is the key to your marriage falling apart?"
-Honestly, I think that, beyond the multitude of issues, the root of all of it is that I don't have someone to grow and evolve with.
"A motivator?"
-Yeah. Someone to challenge me to be a better person rather than me being the only catalyst for change in his life. It's now all about him, and it always has been. I am secondary, my needs have never been considered first. By nature, I had done this to myself, so it's my own fault.
"How?"
-By not having found my voice earlier, by just standing back and giving-giving-giving, thinking that was my job, and that in the end I would somehow find, I don't know, some kind of recompense.
"But you haven't?"
-No. I feel so stagnant and have to search outside of my marriage for other forms of motivation to grow and evolve as a person. I am not saying that, in my ideal marriage, that cannot happen.
"That? What's 'that'?"
-'That' being having a life and friends independent of the marriage. I think that it's healthy that two people who try to make a life together also make an effort to permit the other to foster outside interests...it's part of personal growth. But what I am saying is that we oughtn't be operating 100% independent of each other.
"Okay. So you need emotional compenetration. Apart, of course, from the physical needs that you have also defined as a great part of your love language.
-Yep. I need to feel challenged to grow as a mother, as a lover, as a friend, as a partner, as a wife, as a woman--and that will not happen when partnered with someone who has always been completely content with the status quo, who doesn't feel comfortable challenging himself or moving out of his comfortable existence to push himself or others in his life to grow.
What did I take from yesterday's conversation?
Perhaps that I have high standards, perhaps super-human standards. But that I also shouldn't have to settle.
Perhaps that I will end up living a life alone without a partner because I can see how my needs can be very intimidating. I can also say that I had found this relationship with another, a stormy but extremely gratifying relationship in the profound compenetration and amazing communication we enjoyed, the constant pushing of each other to be better, to do better, to learn from each other and to grow -- but that was at a point in our lives that neither of us could commit to each other.
I feel like I let The One go.
And I will forever have to live with that.
Anybody who knows me well knows that I have guilt issues with receiving. I can give-give-give but have come to learn, especially in the past few years of my evolution of character, that a great part of giving is also receiving. Perhaps it is partially this realization that has stirred such discontent in my marital life; a discontent I thought, eight years ago, I would be able to overcome and learn to live with.
So I was asked yesterday a key question:
"Have you ever thought that maybe your expectations are too high?"
-Sure, they are.
"Maybe you should lower them?"
-Okay, so I lower them, like I have done in the past and I still end up sacrificing my needs. I feel like I deserve better. Why should I have to be the one to always compromise so much?
Yeah, I can be selfish like that.
"What exactly is it that you need? What is the key to your marriage falling apart?"
-Honestly, I think that, beyond the multitude of issues, the root of all of it is that I don't have someone to grow and evolve with.
"A motivator?"
-Yeah. Someone to challenge me to be a better person rather than me being the only catalyst for change in his life. It's now all about him, and it always has been. I am secondary, my needs have never been considered first. By nature, I had done this to myself, so it's my own fault.
"How?"
-By not having found my voice earlier, by just standing back and giving-giving-giving, thinking that was my job, and that in the end I would somehow find, I don't know, some kind of recompense.
"But you haven't?"
-No. I feel so stagnant and have to search outside of my marriage for other forms of motivation to grow and evolve as a person. I am not saying that, in my ideal marriage, that cannot happen.
"That? What's 'that'?"
-'That' being having a life and friends independent of the marriage. I think that it's healthy that two people who try to make a life together also make an effort to permit the other to foster outside interests...it's part of personal growth. But what I am saying is that we oughtn't be operating 100% independent of each other.
"Okay. So you need emotional compenetration. Apart, of course, from the physical needs that you have also defined as a great part of your love language.
-Yep. I need to feel challenged to grow as a mother, as a lover, as a friend, as a partner, as a wife, as a woman--and that will not happen when partnered with someone who has always been completely content with the status quo, who doesn't feel comfortable challenging himself or moving out of his comfortable existence to push himself or others in his life to grow.
What did I take from yesterday's conversation?
Perhaps that I have high standards, perhaps super-human standards. But that I also shouldn't have to settle.
Perhaps that I will end up living a life alone without a partner because I can see how my needs can be very intimidating. I can also say that I had found this relationship with another, a stormy but extremely gratifying relationship in the profound compenetration and amazing communication we enjoyed, the constant pushing of each other to be better, to do better, to learn from each other and to grow -- but that was at a point in our lives that neither of us could commit to each other.
I feel like I let The One go.
And I will forever have to live with that.
martes, 26 de agosto de 2008
life lessons from Wall-E
This movie made me cry, Wall-E.
A birthday gift for Young Prince from She-Ra Fairy Godmother and her clan, we all went smuggling sippy-cups filled with water and snackie-bags of M&Ms into the old movie theatre (yes, vinyl seats and NO CUP HOLDERS! Imagine that...they still exist), Mama Llama with her small canister of soy-free treats and settled over two rows of seats. We did buy popcorn (one large bag that we split into six little plastic canisters for each child...canisters we REUSE from our home supplies), and the lights were never turned off in our theatre, so I personally think She-Ra should have had a partial discount.
At the very least on the popcorn.
I am not even quite sure how to begin all I felt while watching this movie. For an animated "children's" summer flick, I found it extremely profound, evoking anger, resentment, sadness, idealistic desires to Change The World that I once upon a time felt when living in Ecuador, frustration and a deep empathy.
I could write on the varying degrees of symbolism, satire, social statements and the priceless personification of the loveable robots and their cucaracha friend. Equally easy would be to reflect upon what I already do to play my part as a global citizen and what more I can do to be better.
As I cannot simply let a movie with a moral just be...
I asked my children what they took from the movie. Paraphrasing La Princesita (6 3/4 years), she was most taken by the lazy people who were so fat that they could hardly even walk. They would talk on screens to people who sat right next to them on floating chairs that transported them from one place to another, sipping their soda pop, unaware of anything else that was going on around them. Their only realities were what was flashing on the TV screens in front of them...until Wall-E interrupted two of them, who then became aware of this radical situation and these two came to see the beauty of their surroundings and enjoy the actual physical presence (as opposed to the virtual personality) of each other.
She also mentioned that no exercise and bad eating is just not good for you.
The Young Prince's (almost 4) synopsis was that Wall-E was stuck cleaning up the mess that the people had made, but the people didn't want to clean up their mess so they left Earth to go make a mess somewhere else.
He also really like when "the white robot" and Wall-E were in love.
Twinkies, pop culture references, Mass Shopping Giants and technology were interwoven into the plot to bring to mind all that we do today to trash this Earth. I found it ironic that the B&L (play on BJs?) giant that had taken control of not only the minimal clean-up "effort" on Earth but had also created the outer space utopia upon which brainwashed humans could survive (not *live*, mind you, but merely survive, a distinct difference noted by the Captain of the spaceship) ended up being the same entity that had initially created Wall-E, who in turn opened the eyes of the ignorant humans, created allies among robots previously programmed to merely complete their tasks, and empowered the humans to return to Life...and to bring life back to Earth.
Perhaps this is a statement as to what some of these powerhouses can do now so as to stave off the inevitable.
My children, in the meantime, remain even more staunch proponents of cars that run on trash, not gasoline.
A birthday gift for Young Prince from She-Ra Fairy Godmother and her clan, we all went smuggling sippy-cups filled with water and snackie-bags of M&Ms into the old movie theatre (yes, vinyl seats and NO CUP HOLDERS! Imagine that...they still exist), Mama Llama with her small canister of soy-free treats and settled over two rows of seats. We did buy popcorn (one large bag that we split into six little plastic canisters for each child...canisters we REUSE from our home supplies), and the lights were never turned off in our theatre, so I personally think She-Ra should have had a partial discount.
At the very least on the popcorn.
I am not even quite sure how to begin all I felt while watching this movie. For an animated "children's" summer flick, I found it extremely profound, evoking anger, resentment, sadness, idealistic desires to Change The World that I once upon a time felt when living in Ecuador, frustration and a deep empathy.
I could write on the varying degrees of symbolism, satire, social statements and the priceless personification of the loveable robots and their cucaracha friend. Equally easy would be to reflect upon what I already do to play my part as a global citizen and what more I can do to be better.
As I cannot simply let a movie with a moral just be...
I asked my children what they took from the movie. Paraphrasing La Princesita (6 3/4 years), she was most taken by the lazy people who were so fat that they could hardly even walk. They would talk on screens to people who sat right next to them on floating chairs that transported them from one place to another, sipping their soda pop, unaware of anything else that was going on around them. Their only realities were what was flashing on the TV screens in front of them...until Wall-E interrupted two of them, who then became aware of this radical situation and these two came to see the beauty of their surroundings and enjoy the actual physical presence (as opposed to the virtual personality) of each other.
She also mentioned that no exercise and bad eating is just not good for you.
The Young Prince's (almost 4) synopsis was that Wall-E was stuck cleaning up the mess that the people had made, but the people didn't want to clean up their mess so they left Earth to go make a mess somewhere else.
He also really like when "the white robot" and Wall-E were in love.
Twinkies, pop culture references, Mass Shopping Giants and technology were interwoven into the plot to bring to mind all that we do today to trash this Earth. I found it ironic that the B&L (play on BJs?) giant that had taken control of not only the minimal clean-up "effort" on Earth but had also created the outer space utopia upon which brainwashed humans could survive (not *live*, mind you, but merely survive, a distinct difference noted by the Captain of the spaceship) ended up being the same entity that had initially created Wall-E, who in turn opened the eyes of the ignorant humans, created allies among robots previously programmed to merely complete their tasks, and empowered the humans to return to Life...and to bring life back to Earth.
Perhaps this is a statement as to what some of these powerhouses can do now so as to stave off the inevitable.
My children, in the meantime, remain even more staunch proponents of cars that run on trash, not gasoline.
viernes, 22 de agosto de 2008
hot Friday night date
La Princesita and the Young Prince were supposed to have a night, to start out a weekend, with their father. However, the Young Prince threw such a tizzy about wanting time alone with me--and granted, he does not get a lot of alone time with his Mama Llama--so I took him out as my date for the night.
To Friday Night Live. The last concert of the season. Drop Dead Sexy was headlining, an 80s party band. I saw them last year; they have so much fun while they perform, they are creative and they are good. So I was not going to miss them this year.
It was a perfect night. No humidity, lovely sunset, great patch of grass upon which I spread my Peruvian wool blanket and my Young Prince at my side. I got myself a glass of wine and the two of us dinner, and we sat and ate. The opening band was okay, but was an opener. There were three men sitting next to me in their chairs with young girls. Two were in their 50s, one perhaps mid-40s. I'm a people-watcher, and it's also a safety thing for me, to always be well aware of who is around me. Anyhow, the children kept coming over to me so I got to talking to one of the men a bit.
As it became darker, the Young Prince became sleepier and, as Drop Dead Sexy came on we only were able to dance 2 songs together when he begged me to hold him and he fell deep asleep on my shoulder as the band rocked the entire audience.
I sat myself down, cradling my son in my arms when the one man I had been talking to came over to my blanket with a glass of wine in hand.
Dude.
So he squats down by me, but then starts to complain of his knee and I offer him to sit on my blanket; there was plenty of room. But I thought, if his general age (although I suppose I am The Target Age for the age 50+ male set while I am 36, that ain't what I would be looking for IF I WERE LOOKING--which I am sooooooo not doing anyway) and physique (I would hypothetically require someone in my life who will care for and respect his body...if he can't, how could he possibly respect mine?) weren't enough, strike one. Why? Because I am demanding and I require very good physical condition, in almost every aspect of my relationship with my partner.
Take that any way you want.
Bad knees *can be* a bad sign. Must take these clues in context, however; an athlete with bad knees is a bit different than an overweight, gray-haired 55 year old (maybe I'm overestimating the age, but that's also not good if I can't estimate clearly). But his "baby sister" was there--and she is 41.
We had a nice chat, and he assisted me in folding my blanket while I gathered the rest of my goods while holding Young Prince, still zonked over my left shoulder like a sack of potatoes in a red sweatshirt.
He gave me his card, almost apologetically as my hands were full. I said that perhaps next year we'll see each other at another concert.
"Let's not make it that long."
Duuuuuude....Smoooooooth. Yikes.
I smiled, glad I had an excuse to leave and suddenly extremely happy I had not, in fact, indulged in a night out at the concert by myself.
I drove home feeling a huge balloon of disappointment rising in my chest. Is this all I would have to look forward to? Mama Llama holding Sleeping Son--desperation choice? I am, evidently, so past my prime. How would I ever get back into the dating game again when I'd be ready to do so? Or ought I plan to live the rest of my life alone? Perhaps I'll be happier that way. I really couldn't feel more alone than I have felt while married. And as a 36 year old (now...even older as time goes on...maybe that's another reason why He is stalling so on the residential separation), I would never be a very hot catch for anyone under, say, 60 years old.
I suppose there are a few things I don't understand.
1. Is wearing a ring--or not, in my case--an assumption of status? Will women who wear a ring be left alone? Do the same standards go for men? Should I just wear my ring, even charged with all that wearing a ring implies, so that I am not bothered if I ever do go out? I like to be social, I just really want friendships now. And a gay Latino dance parter. Is that too much to ask?
2. This man went and got me a glass of wine. I obviously could not go as I had a 4 year old zonked out in my arms, but did not ask him to go. I offered to pay for it, as I could have used another glass of wine, anyway. But he refused. Ought I have insisted so as to not have any obligation? Not that it was bad talking to him--it's just that it was evident that he wanted to continue this, on my terms, at a future date and I have absolutely zilcho-desire to do so.
All I want to do is have fun. I will not deny that I hunger...and that is natural for any human. But I will not use someone to satisfy my hunger. That just runs contrary to my grain. And like we talked about before regarding FWB, I need to attach myself emotionally to truly satisfy my appetite.
To Friday Night Live. The last concert of the season. Drop Dead Sexy was headlining, an 80s party band. I saw them last year; they have so much fun while they perform, they are creative and they are good. So I was not going to miss them this year.
It was a perfect night. No humidity, lovely sunset, great patch of grass upon which I spread my Peruvian wool blanket and my Young Prince at my side. I got myself a glass of wine and the two of us dinner, and we sat and ate. The opening band was okay, but was an opener. There were three men sitting next to me in their chairs with young girls. Two were in their 50s, one perhaps mid-40s. I'm a people-watcher, and it's also a safety thing for me, to always be well aware of who is around me. Anyhow, the children kept coming over to me so I got to talking to one of the men a bit.
As it became darker, the Young Prince became sleepier and, as Drop Dead Sexy came on we only were able to dance 2 songs together when he begged me to hold him and he fell deep asleep on my shoulder as the band rocked the entire audience.
I sat myself down, cradling my son in my arms when the one man I had been talking to came over to my blanket with a glass of wine in hand.
Dude.
So he squats down by me, but then starts to complain of his knee and I offer him to sit on my blanket; there was plenty of room. But I thought, if his general age (although I suppose I am The Target Age for the age 50+ male set while I am 36, that ain't what I would be looking for IF I WERE LOOKING--which I am sooooooo not doing anyway) and physique (I would hypothetically require someone in my life who will care for and respect his body...if he can't, how could he possibly respect mine?) weren't enough, strike one. Why? Because I am demanding and I require very good physical condition, in almost every aspect of my relationship with my partner.
Take that any way you want.
Bad knees *can be* a bad sign. Must take these clues in context, however; an athlete with bad knees is a bit different than an overweight, gray-haired 55 year old (maybe I'm overestimating the age, but that's also not good if I can't estimate clearly). But his "baby sister" was there--and she is 41.
We had a nice chat, and he assisted me in folding my blanket while I gathered the rest of my goods while holding Young Prince, still zonked over my left shoulder like a sack of potatoes in a red sweatshirt.
He gave me his card, almost apologetically as my hands were full. I said that perhaps next year we'll see each other at another concert.
"Let's not make it that long."
Duuuuuude....Smoooooooth. Yikes.
I smiled, glad I had an excuse to leave and suddenly extremely happy I had not, in fact, indulged in a night out at the concert by myself.
I drove home feeling a huge balloon of disappointment rising in my chest. Is this all I would have to look forward to? Mama Llama holding Sleeping Son--desperation choice? I am, evidently, so past my prime. How would I ever get back into the dating game again when I'd be ready to do so? Or ought I plan to live the rest of my life alone? Perhaps I'll be happier that way. I really couldn't feel more alone than I have felt while married. And as a 36 year old (now...even older as time goes on...maybe that's another reason why He is stalling so on the residential separation), I would never be a very hot catch for anyone under, say, 60 years old.
I suppose there are a few things I don't understand.
1. Is wearing a ring--or not, in my case--an assumption of status? Will women who wear a ring be left alone? Do the same standards go for men? Should I just wear my ring, even charged with all that wearing a ring implies, so that I am not bothered if I ever do go out? I like to be social, I just really want friendships now. And a gay Latino dance parter. Is that too much to ask?
2. This man went and got me a glass of wine. I obviously could not go as I had a 4 year old zonked out in my arms, but did not ask him to go. I offered to pay for it, as I could have used another glass of wine, anyway. But he refused. Ought I have insisted so as to not have any obligation? Not that it was bad talking to him--it's just that it was evident that he wanted to continue this, on my terms, at a future date and I have absolutely zilcho-desire to do so.
All I want to do is have fun. I will not deny that I hunger...and that is natural for any human. But I will not use someone to satisfy my hunger. That just runs contrary to my grain. And like we talked about before regarding FWB, I need to attach myself emotionally to truly satisfy my appetite.
viernes, 15 de agosto de 2008
facebook addiction
I have become a Facebook Junkie this week.
It is easy to become lured into the lineage of ex-classmates, ex-boyfriends, ex-roommates, ex-stand partners (I was an orchestra nerd--violinist, to be exact) and a plethora of other exes that dominate this attempt to reconnect after 5-10-20 years of not having spoken, emailed or seen each other.
At the same time, the connections made are extremely gratifying.
Some work in toy stores. Others with movies in Hollywood. Everyone is finding their way, following what they have discovered to be their bliss, reveling in their children/pets/homes/travels/etc. and are equally enthused about this sudden resurgence in interest in what "the popular kids" or "the geeks" or "the nerds"...what have you...have become in Life. The barriers have dissolved; it is almost like the 20 year reunion occuring virtually, with pictures and a few video clips to boot.
Better than the 20th, however, is the fact that I can see my friends' other connections, if they so permit in their privacy settings. The diverse paths that the Friends List take tell a lot about each person, where they have been, whose lives they have impacted and how each have been influenced to become the individual we all now are.
Some are single, some searching, some married, and my relationship status is listed as "complicated." It is a part of being true to myself. Why should I have anything to hide or be ashamed of? I feel need to admit I am human, daring to take a step further than the virtual reality of Facebook-- a class reunion weekend, whatever--would necessarily permit to be seen.
I loaded pictures and have found great joy in the photos of others' travels, children, fun times. I am enjoying this experience...yet not at all missing my schooling years. I am at peace with who I have become, and these people all played their part in creating the Me that I am now.
And I am learning that, evidently, I am not the only one yearning to feel a connection to that from whence I came. That reassurance, in itself, is comforting.
It is easy to become lured into the lineage of ex-classmates, ex-boyfriends, ex-roommates, ex-stand partners (I was an orchestra nerd--violinist, to be exact) and a plethora of other exes that dominate this attempt to reconnect after 5-10-20 years of not having spoken, emailed or seen each other.
At the same time, the connections made are extremely gratifying.
Some work in toy stores. Others with movies in Hollywood. Everyone is finding their way, following what they have discovered to be their bliss, reveling in their children/pets/homes/travels/etc. and are equally enthused about this sudden resurgence in interest in what "the popular kids" or "the geeks" or "the nerds"...what have you...have become in Life. The barriers have dissolved; it is almost like the 20 year reunion occuring virtually, with pictures and a few video clips to boot.
Better than the 20th, however, is the fact that I can see my friends' other connections, if they so permit in their privacy settings. The diverse paths that the Friends List take tell a lot about each person, where they have been, whose lives they have impacted and how each have been influenced to become the individual we all now are.
Some are single, some searching, some married, and my relationship status is listed as "complicated." It is a part of being true to myself. Why should I have anything to hide or be ashamed of? I feel need to admit I am human, daring to take a step further than the virtual reality of Facebook-- a class reunion weekend, whatever--would necessarily permit to be seen.
I loaded pictures and have found great joy in the photos of others' travels, children, fun times. I am enjoying this experience...yet not at all missing my schooling years. I am at peace with who I have become, and these people all played their part in creating the Me that I am now.
And I am learning that, evidently, I am not the only one yearning to feel a connection to that from whence I came. That reassurance, in itself, is comforting.
jueves, 19 de junio de 2008
saving the world, one baby birdie at a time
Today I gave Mother Nature a little hand.
As it is late Spring here in the Northern Hemisphere, there are many baby birds hatching from their nests in the various trees, filling the air with the joyful and sometimes frantic chirping of newly hatched chicks and first-time parents. New birds are learning to spread their wings and fly from their comfortable nests. However, this first flight can actually end up being much more of a stumble into a situation out of which Baby Birdie cannot quite find a way!
I heard a very insistent chirping coming from the garage early this afternoon, so I sent the little monkeys to investigate. The chirping ceased and no bird flew out of the garage, so I decided to take a look around. I could see nothing and, as there was no more chirping had no sound assistance to go on. Coming out of the garage, I noticed gray fuzz in my big rosemary bush, behind my lavender and oregano in my herb garden. It was a baby mockingbird! Still with some newborn down on its head and little feet that are way too big for its body, but just looking at me and staying calm in the rosemary. I called the children over and we all quietly admired this being that had no choice but to be our captive entertainment.
I thought that I was perhaps mistaken, that Rosemary Birdie was the one that I had heard and that it had gotten lost from its Mama Birdie. But then the panicked chirping ensued. We returned to the garage but found nothing. La Princesita's ride then arrived to wisk her off to play for the afternoon, so the Young Prince and Mama Llama were left alone to solve this mystery.
The chirping began again. Silently I entered the garage, deducing from the sound that it was on the right-hand side. Following the chirps, I found Baby Birdie #2 on top of one of the front wheels of the lawn mower! Remembering that baby bunnies, if carrying the scent of humans on their fur when newborn are eaten by their families, I quickly found a sweatshirt and inserted my arms and hands into the arms of the pullover so that I could catch the bird without tarnishing it in any way with my scent. I had to "calmly chase" the creature around a bit but, after a bit of coaxing was able to gently grab Baby Birdie #2 and ever so lightly carry it out to be with its sibling out on the rosemary.
There they sat for a good while, siblings, the one from the garage squawking quite a bit in protest of their mother having pushed them out the nest. "How dare you! You see what happened? We weren't ready and had to deal with those HUMANS you warned us about! And you pushed us into their world!" The eternal child-to-parent guilt trip--I could hear it in the chirp.
Later this afternoon, upon The Young Prince and my return, we noticed that one of the babies was gone. Still remaining was the vociferous one, but even it had gone from the rosemary to the stones just below the lavender. I mentioned to my son that it might be a good idea to watch from the large window overlooking our driveway and see what happens.
Sure enough, in flies Mama (or Papa, who knows) Birdie and gives Baby Birdie something to eat. Then Mama flies to the fence, looking back as if trying to coax Baby to follow. Baby stands its ground.
Later, I see Mama making another approach, hopping over the driveway and back to the fence. I never did see Baby Birdie follow as I was also sauteeing my first garden squash of the season, but when I went out to check on Baby's progress, I was surprised to see that Baby Birdie was gone!
I doubt Baby Birdie would have found its way out of the garage, or if Mama Birdie would have gone in after it to coax it out of hiding. So I feel that my intervention was warranted and gave Mother Nature a bit of a helping hand this afternoon.
After all--we are all in this together, are we not?
As it is late Spring here in the Northern Hemisphere, there are many baby birds hatching from their nests in the various trees, filling the air with the joyful and sometimes frantic chirping of newly hatched chicks and first-time parents. New birds are learning to spread their wings and fly from their comfortable nests. However, this first flight can actually end up being much more of a stumble into a situation out of which Baby Birdie cannot quite find a way!
I heard a very insistent chirping coming from the garage early this afternoon, so I sent the little monkeys to investigate. The chirping ceased and no bird flew out of the garage, so I decided to take a look around. I could see nothing and, as there was no more chirping had no sound assistance to go on. Coming out of the garage, I noticed gray fuzz in my big rosemary bush, behind my lavender and oregano in my herb garden. It was a baby mockingbird! Still with some newborn down on its head and little feet that are way too big for its body, but just looking at me and staying calm in the rosemary. I called the children over and we all quietly admired this being that had no choice but to be our captive entertainment.
I thought that I was perhaps mistaken, that Rosemary Birdie was the one that I had heard and that it had gotten lost from its Mama Birdie. But then the panicked chirping ensued. We returned to the garage but found nothing. La Princesita's ride then arrived to wisk her off to play for the afternoon, so the Young Prince and Mama Llama were left alone to solve this mystery.
The chirping began again. Silently I entered the garage, deducing from the sound that it was on the right-hand side. Following the chirps, I found Baby Birdie #2 on top of one of the front wheels of the lawn mower! Remembering that baby bunnies, if carrying the scent of humans on their fur when newborn are eaten by their families, I quickly found a sweatshirt and inserted my arms and hands into the arms of the pullover so that I could catch the bird without tarnishing it in any way with my scent. I had to "calmly chase" the creature around a bit but, after a bit of coaxing was able to gently grab Baby Birdie #2 and ever so lightly carry it out to be with its sibling out on the rosemary.
There they sat for a good while, siblings, the one from the garage squawking quite a bit in protest of their mother having pushed them out the nest. "How dare you! You see what happened? We weren't ready and had to deal with those HUMANS you warned us about! And you pushed us into their world!" The eternal child-to-parent guilt trip--I could hear it in the chirp.
Later this afternoon, upon The Young Prince and my return, we noticed that one of the babies was gone. Still remaining was the vociferous one, but even it had gone from the rosemary to the stones just below the lavender. I mentioned to my son that it might be a good idea to watch from the large window overlooking our driveway and see what happens.
Sure enough, in flies Mama (or Papa, who knows) Birdie and gives Baby Birdie something to eat. Then Mama flies to the fence, looking back as if trying to coax Baby to follow. Baby stands its ground.
Later, I see Mama making another approach, hopping over the driveway and back to the fence. I never did see Baby Birdie follow as I was also sauteeing my first garden squash of the season, but when I went out to check on Baby's progress, I was surprised to see that Baby Birdie was gone!
I doubt Baby Birdie would have found its way out of the garage, or if Mama Birdie would have gone in after it to coax it out of hiding. So I feel that my intervention was warranted and gave Mother Nature a bit of a helping hand this afternoon.
After all--we are all in this together, are we not?
martes, 17 de junio de 2008
in a manu chao mood
Today is a Manu Chao mood day. I love him.
I use this song to teach and practice that "gustar" grammar formation in my class. It is how you express what you like in Spanish, but is literally translated as:
"(object) is pleasing to (indirect object)".
So "Me gusta el chocolate" would be "Chocolate is pleasing to me" or, in real English, "I like chocolate."
So...your 'sleepless night' homework: how many things can you hear Manu Chao say that he likes? What would you add to that list...just to be random? It does not have to be in Spanish (a-hem). And if you have any questions, feel free! We'll just call this lesson "Spanish 1".
I use this song to teach and practice that "gustar" grammar formation in my class. It is how you express what you like in Spanish, but is literally translated as:
"(object) is pleasing to (indirect object)".
So "Me gusta el chocolate" would be "Chocolate is pleasing to me" or, in real English, "I like chocolate."
So...your 'sleepless night' homework: how many things can you hear Manu Chao say that he likes? What would you add to that list...just to be random? It does not have to be in Spanish (a-hem). And if you have any questions, feel free! We'll just call this lesson "Spanish 1".
viernes, 4 de abril de 2008
Life's little ironies
In one week, one of the strangest weeks of my life will--or rather, should--be over.
1. On Friday I must fly to Nashville for the court hearing regarding this lawsuit and finally, hopefully, put this all behind me. I am being charged with negligence by the insurance company behind the mask of the individual who went out with my car when we spun out and flipped when we were forced off the road by a "phantom vehicle" that fled the scene. My car never hit hers; she swerved to miss me and she is suing for damages to her Bronco. Her basis is negligence. All three witnesses have been found and subpoenaed to court for next Friday, and all three state that she has no case and that I did the only thing I could in the situation to avoid being hit into oncoming traffic (coming at us at least at 65 mph) and keep my family alive. It is difficult to not take this personally because it is personal; her insurance company is making her sue me (whether or not she wants to) because they feel my decision-making was erroneous.
I have to fly through Detroit to get to Nashville. I wonder what will happen if 1. flights are delayed and I don't arrive on time, or 2. flights are cancelled and I don't get there at all and am stuck instead in Detroit. Why I wasn't purchased a direct flight from my very-major local international airport is only cost--and since my insurance company so strongly believes that I am going to be saving them over $20,000.00 in not having to pay out liability with my testimony, you would think that they would go ahead and spring for a direct-flight ticket that would guarantee my arrival, no matter what the cost.
But no...that is too easy.
2. I have a new night class that starts on Wednesday night. That will be fun, and I have the texts printed and ready to go. One less task to have to complete this weekend!
3. While having my judgment put on trial on Friday, I am being honored by my Town Mayor on Tuesday night.
I was one of a handful of individuals in my Town to be nominated by a Town Council member for a Mayorial Award for Outstanding Volunteerism.
Sounds impressive, ¿no?
All it comes from was putting into action the dream of the PTA President at La Princesita's elementary school by forming a recycling committee and starting a full-blown recycling program at that school, the first of its kind in the Town's public schools. Whereas before only paper was recycled, we have now started recycling cans and plastic, and just this week batteries. I publish a Recycling Tip of the Week in the school newsletter, the PTA newsletter and in over the school's morning "news program" which is broadcast by the upper-classes to all the students of the school in order to edcuate the entire school community about all the different things we can do every day to use less or recycle that which we have finished using. We also formed a neighborhood clean-up and this year will formally join in the Town's Clean-Up Day in November as a school team.
But I'm a native Oregonian. That is what we do. Recycle. Take care of our Mother. It's not anything that out of the ordinary--it is just who I am, it's in my blood. The real hero is the PTA President/Goddess. She is an amazing woman. She is, likewise, to be honored that night.
Funny, how in four days' time next week I am to be both richly honored for the integrity of my decisions and on trial for supposed negligence in my decisions.
1. On Friday I must fly to Nashville for the court hearing regarding this lawsuit and finally, hopefully, put this all behind me. I am being charged with negligence by the insurance company behind the mask of the individual who went out with my car when we spun out and flipped when we were forced off the road by a "phantom vehicle" that fled the scene. My car never hit hers; she swerved to miss me and she is suing for damages to her Bronco. Her basis is negligence. All three witnesses have been found and subpoenaed to court for next Friday, and all three state that she has no case and that I did the only thing I could in the situation to avoid being hit into oncoming traffic (coming at us at least at 65 mph) and keep my family alive. It is difficult to not take this personally because it is personal; her insurance company is making her sue me (whether or not she wants to) because they feel my decision-making was erroneous.
I have to fly through Detroit to get to Nashville. I wonder what will happen if 1. flights are delayed and I don't arrive on time, or 2. flights are cancelled and I don't get there at all and am stuck instead in Detroit. Why I wasn't purchased a direct flight from my very-major local international airport is only cost--and since my insurance company so strongly believes that I am going to be saving them over $20,000.00 in not having to pay out liability with my testimony, you would think that they would go ahead and spring for a direct-flight ticket that would guarantee my arrival, no matter what the cost.
But no...that is too easy.
2. I have a new night class that starts on Wednesday night. That will be fun, and I have the texts printed and ready to go. One less task to have to complete this weekend!
3. While having my judgment put on trial on Friday, I am being honored by my Town Mayor on Tuesday night.
I was one of a handful of individuals in my Town to be nominated by a Town Council member for a Mayorial Award for Outstanding Volunteerism.
Sounds impressive, ¿no?
All it comes from was putting into action the dream of the PTA President at La Princesita's elementary school by forming a recycling committee and starting a full-blown recycling program at that school, the first of its kind in the Town's public schools. Whereas before only paper was recycled, we have now started recycling cans and plastic, and just this week batteries. I publish a Recycling Tip of the Week in the school newsletter, the PTA newsletter and in over the school's morning "news program" which is broadcast by the upper-classes to all the students of the school in order to edcuate the entire school community about all the different things we can do every day to use less or recycle that which we have finished using. We also formed a neighborhood clean-up and this year will formally join in the Town's Clean-Up Day in November as a school team.
But I'm a native Oregonian. That is what we do. Recycle. Take care of our Mother. It's not anything that out of the ordinary--it is just who I am, it's in my blood. The real hero is the PTA President/Goddess. She is an amazing woman. She is, likewise, to be honored that night.
Funny, how in four days' time next week I am to be both richly honored for the integrity of my decisions and on trial for supposed negligence in my decisions.
martes, 26 de febrero de 2008
the human barometer
We have a low that moved over last night and brought us some rain. Possibly some snow as it moves out and the cold north winds come back in overnight, but nothing that would cancel or postpone school.
As the Human Barometer, I feel every passage of these lows almost as if being a personal attack. The headache starts--sometimes, as in yesterday, very low and gradually builds. Other times, depending on the intensity of the low, it hits so hard I can almost fall down with the pure force. How do I know that this is caused by my sensitivity to meteorological events? Two reasons: one, as soon as the low passes, the headache disappears completely, and two, my palms say so.
Yes, I do know Basic Palm Reading. I could say I have passed 101 level and can operate more on the 200-level. Not advanced, but I found it a great way to teach verb tenses expressing future, probablility (subjunctive) and even use of the imperative (commands) in some of my intermediate Spanish classes that was different and a lot of fun for my adult students. So I learned how to read palms, put some general diagrams together with general Spanish terms and voila! a new class activity.
Anyhow, my Mercury line is extremely well-defined. It stretches from the inner palm of my hand outwards and upwards toward my pinkie finger. Some people have it, some do not. Some have a weak line, some have strong lines. The stronger the line, the more “affected by one’s environment” one tends to be…and this extends to sensitivity to emotional states, allergies, foods…not merely weather.
Interesting. Want me to read your palm? Scan me a copy of your palm. We’ll see what I can do! ☺ Couple that with my dream analysis, and I can add an entirely new realm to my language business…
hmmm…the Language of the Past, Present and Future….
I like it!
As the Human Barometer, I feel every passage of these lows almost as if being a personal attack. The headache starts--sometimes, as in yesterday, very low and gradually builds. Other times, depending on the intensity of the low, it hits so hard I can almost fall down with the pure force. How do I know that this is caused by my sensitivity to meteorological events? Two reasons: one, as soon as the low passes, the headache disappears completely, and two, my palms say so.
Yes, I do know Basic Palm Reading. I could say I have passed 101 level and can operate more on the 200-level. Not advanced, but I found it a great way to teach verb tenses expressing future, probablility (subjunctive) and even use of the imperative (commands) in some of my intermediate Spanish classes that was different and a lot of fun for my adult students. So I learned how to read palms, put some general diagrams together with general Spanish terms and voila! a new class activity.
Anyhow, my Mercury line is extremely well-defined. It stretches from the inner palm of my hand outwards and upwards toward my pinkie finger. Some people have it, some do not. Some have a weak line, some have strong lines. The stronger the line, the more “affected by one’s environment” one tends to be…and this extends to sensitivity to emotional states, allergies, foods…not merely weather.
Interesting. Want me to read your palm? Scan me a copy of your palm. We’ll see what I can do! ☺ Couple that with my dream analysis, and I can add an entirely new realm to my language business…
hmmm…the Language of the Past, Present and Future….
I like it!
domingo, 17 de febrero de 2008
Gettin' OUT
I went to see this amazing performer, Curtis Eller, last night down at the Galaxy Hut. He's an old high-school classmate of one of my friends. It had to be one of the most unique shows I have ever before seen. Check out the clip; beware of strong language. He is a real hoot.
So this means that The Queen got out of her Queen-dome for the night. YESSSSSSS
And write this down, ladies and gentlemen: I did not arrive back at the Queen-dome until
*gasp*
midnight.
For me, up every morning at 5:00 a.m. with children usually about to pounce upon me sooner rather than later, I don't usually live to see many clocks chime 9:30 or even 9 p.m.
But I made it last night.
And may I say:
it felt sooooooooo gooooooooooood
Being a beer bar, I figured there would be nothing for me (no wheat=no malt=no beer). But I lucked out as they did have wine...albeit yellowtail, they at least had cab so I didn't have to try to swallow a shiraz.
It was crowded but, as we were friends of the artist, we didn't feel too uncomfortable standing right up front with him. Chatting with my friend while her husband was talking with Curtis, I suddenly felt eyes on me...
hmmm....
I obviously haven't been out in a very, very looooooong time.
A face came out of the crowd. It was an ex-student of mine from my Uni teaching days. She said, "I can't believe it. I just told my friend, 'That's my Spanish prof!'" Obviously not anymore; in fact, she was in my class back in 2005 so it has been a few years. But I remembered her and she obviously remembered me.
This brings me to something else I read today, a postcard on PostSecret and an emailed response. The postcard reads:
"A few years ago my husband celebrated his 25th year of teaching. After touching the lives of hundreds of students not ONE RSVP'd to his surprise party. We had to cancel. He never knew it. He loves his job. I hate it."The ensuing response:
"I always think about writing a thank you letter, or just dropping by to say hello to some of my former teachers. I've never done it because I've been afraid they won't remember me. And really? That would be crushing; finding out that I was forgotten while they were not.Names do come and go. I have been teaching for over 15 years and never forget a face, not even a Japanese face, although ask me to remember a name and I would have to be reminded. When one has taught and interacted with so many students, in so many historical contexts over such an extended period, the names might be forgotten but the student is not. And it is not only the overachievers that are remembered; that is a common misconception.
"But maybe just saying it would be enough, even if they don't remember. Thank you for reminding me of that. And a heartfelt thank you to your husband for all his dedication -- you can't imagine how much it really means to me. I probably wouldn't be here if not for people like him. I'll be starting those letters today.
Sincerely,
Michelle"
When my father died, his funeral was attended by students of his last class of 1998, and his first class of 1967. My mother received various condolence letters from students, most of whom expressed gratitude for the motivation and example he set for them, one that made them want to become teachers (and some, even, math teachers just like him) themselves.
I am that kind of a teacher, too. I have always cared, perhaps too much, about my students and their lives. What is learned in a classroom is only valid if you are going to use it in the outside world. Use what you know from outside the classroom to help you get the stuff with which I'm trying to expand your world within the classroom. Get beyond the exams and live your life. But don't just live. LIVE! Enjoy! Laugh, cry, embrace, love, feel, do, act, react and be! Bring your experiences to class and, as long as you try to do it in español, tell us all about it!
Maybe that's why my ex-students still call me out of the blue for recommendations. They know I'll remember them.
Maybe that's why my ex-students embrace me when they see me, even years later, or contact me out of the blue after having "found" me on the Internet. They know I will remember them and they are secure.
They have absolutely no idea what good it does me, to have them recognize me, embrace me, talk to me, remember me, recall some random event that occurred or something that I said that actually stuck. That they are using in their lives today--perhaps a mantra, as in my favorite "may you live all the days of your life"...and that particular student got a D in my course, I remember...
The magic lies in the minute details, doesn't it? A simple "Hello" or a hug. Instant validation of having done right, of having done good, of having made a difference and to at least be remembered.
I am smiling today.
jueves, 14 de febrero de 2008
tears
I read the story and sobbed. Hard.
What has happened to us?
Northern Illinois University, site of the "latest" campus "shooting event"...incredible that we can even use "latest" and "shooting event" in the same clause... I just don't know what to think. What have we done to ourselves? What has happened?
I feel these attacks personally. I had to teach in that post-broken-innocence, that all teachers (and students) now face in each and every classroom in the United States. I have had threats, I have been fearful, I have wondered what would have happened if I had said the wrong thing one night when a certain student had forgotten to take her meds.
And I have two children who I am trying my hardest to raise as loving, trusting souls...but must I put a caveat on everything I teach? "Yes, trust...but then again, you can't really trust anyone. You're in this alone. Really." That is not the world in which I want my children taking part.
But I have no choice.
Maybe I'm thinking too deeply about this. I just hate and resent, truly resent how utterly helpless I feel facing all we have to face now.
How can I change it? What in the world can I do to change this?
What has happened to us?
Northern Illinois University, site of the "latest" campus "shooting event"...incredible that we can even use "latest" and "shooting event" in the same clause... I just don't know what to think. What have we done to ourselves? What has happened?
I feel these attacks personally. I had to teach in that post-broken-innocence, that all teachers (and students) now face in each and every classroom in the United States. I have had threats, I have been fearful, I have wondered what would have happened if I had said the wrong thing one night when a certain student had forgotten to take her meds.
And I have two children who I am trying my hardest to raise as loving, trusting souls...but must I put a caveat on everything I teach? "Yes, trust...but then again, you can't really trust anyone. You're in this alone. Really." That is not the world in which I want my children taking part.
But I have no choice.
Maybe I'm thinking too deeply about this. I just hate and resent, truly resent how utterly helpless I feel facing all we have to face now.
How can I change it? What in the world can I do to change this?
domingo, 30 de diciembre de 2007
physical contact
Totally spur-of-the-moment, I went with Princess from Neighboring Village for a pedicure.
Oh. My. Gosh.
I haven't had any spa treatment at all in...hmm...let's see...4 1/2 years. And no pedicure in longer than that.
Queen from Neighboring Village and I first took the chariot on a run to the store, then to the spa. It was the same spa--actually, new name and different look and service, but same place--that I had been to the last time, over 4 years ago, the week I miscarried.
So that was good, to kind-of undo old, icky memories, in a way.
I ended up with a Spa Pedicure (how that is different than a regular one I will never know except that it cost $10 more) and it was D.I.V.I.N.E.
I sat back in the massage chair and let her do her magic.
It felt so good just to have physical contact with some other human being (other than my darling children, of course...this was All For Me) that I could have cried.
I have missed physical contact. I need touch. I need to be touched. I don't have adult physical contact in my life and I miss it so very much. I crave it.
I think this will be part of my Improving Me recipe for 2008. A bit cost prohibitive but, will some sacrifice here and there I will make it work.
I deserve it.
In the process, however, I forgot to eat. I haven't had anything to eat since 9:30 this morning and am dying, so ta ta for now.
Oh. My. Gosh.
I haven't had any spa treatment at all in...hmm...let's see...4 1/2 years. And no pedicure in longer than that.
Queen from Neighboring Village and I first took the chariot on a run to the store, then to the spa. It was the same spa--actually, new name and different look and service, but same place--that I had been to the last time, over 4 years ago, the week I miscarried.
So that was good, to kind-of undo old, icky memories, in a way.
I ended up with a Spa Pedicure (how that is different than a regular one I will never know except that it cost $10 more) and it was D.I.V.I.N.E.
I sat back in the massage chair and let her do her magic.
It felt so good just to have physical contact with some other human being (other than my darling children, of course...this was All For Me) that I could have cried.
I have missed physical contact. I need touch. I need to be touched. I don't have adult physical contact in my life and I miss it so very much. I crave it.
I think this will be part of my Improving Me recipe for 2008. A bit cost prohibitive but, will some sacrifice here and there I will make it work.
I deserve it.
In the process, however, I forgot to eat. I haven't had anything to eat since 9:30 this morning and am dying, so ta ta for now.
lunes, 24 de diciembre de 2007
Lemonade from lemons, revisited
Okay...
So the fudge...yeah, well, it being chocolate and all, I just didn't have the heart to send that out to Wasteland, so I stuck it in the fridge to get a fresh, more chilled perspective on things this morning.
I dipped my finger in...
No, still had not set. But damn, it's good.
Could be marketed as "Almost Fudge Chocolate Sauce." With walnuts, of course.
I can spoon some over my Haagen Dazs Chocolate Sorbet (no soy in that baby)...or just spoon some into a bowl...
ahhhhhhhhh. Qué rico. A little piece of heaven. Almost orgasmic.
The sun is shining, the spring daffodils are starting to peek their heads out in my garden, and two little phlox flowers are actually blooming today, as is my rosemary. And I still have chocolate.
It is a very Merry Christmas Eve, indeed.
So the fudge...yeah, well, it being chocolate and all, I just didn't have the heart to send that out to Wasteland, so I stuck it in the fridge to get a fresh, more chilled perspective on things this morning.
I dipped my finger in...
No, still had not set. But damn, it's good.
Could be marketed as "Almost Fudge Chocolate Sauce." With walnuts, of course.
I can spoon some over my Haagen Dazs Chocolate Sorbet (no soy in that baby)...or just spoon some into a bowl...
ahhhhhhhhh. Qué rico. A little piece of heaven. Almost orgasmic.
The sun is shining, the spring daffodils are starting to peek their heads out in my garden, and two little phlox flowers are actually blooming today, as is my rosemary. And I still have chocolate.
It is a very Merry Christmas Eve, indeed.
viernes, 30 de noviembre de 2007
"may you live all the days of your life"
Jonathan Swift.
I used to use this quote in my signature line of all my emails for many years. It is a simple statement on how I have chosen to, at least, try to live my life. I never thought that it was ever even noticed...
This morning, out of the clear blue, came an email from a former student that I had in my teaching tenure at Tulane back in the late 1990s. She was not my best student; she struggled to get the grade she did get and was, in my opinion, in the midst of truly finding herself when our paths crossed.
We maintained contact while I remained in New Orleans but, when leaving in 2000 we lost touch.
I received an email this morning from her.
Congratulations. I am thrilled for you and am sure you are touching others' lives in ways you will never know.
-----------
In other news:
The issue of the ethics/teacher/student seems to be resolving itself. I put myself into contact with the mother of my student, and she agrees with me in that she would like the teacher and the tutor to be in some sort of working contact. She is planning a meeting with that teacher in the next week, so hopefully all will be ironed out. I mentioned my fear of, through my honest attempts at opening lines of communication, having compromised my student's best interests in that classroom and want to ensure that does not, in fact, occur. Hopefully all will be ironed out.
So I feel better. To the gym today for a little bit of ME-TIME. I need to move my body, stand on my head with nobody around to push me over and giggle, stretch, exert...
I used to use this quote in my signature line of all my emails for many years. It is a simple statement on how I have chosen to, at least, try to live my life. I never thought that it was ever even noticed...
This morning, out of the clear blue, came an email from a former student that I had in my teaching tenure at Tulane back in the late 1990s. She was not my best student; she struggled to get the grade she did get and was, in my opinion, in the midst of truly finding herself when our paths crossed.
We maintained contact while I remained in New Orleans but, when leaving in 2000 we lost touch.
I received an email this morning from her.
Although you might not know it, your example inspired me to save for and live my dreams of world travel after leaving New Orleans and I have since started a Life Coaching practice with a passion for the Life Sabbatical / Long-term Travel niche, so I am continuing to spread the word about changing the world through meaningful travel.I checked out her website and, gracing the top of her "about me" page is...the above quote from Jonathan Swift.
Congratulations. I am thrilled for you and am sure you are touching others' lives in ways you will never know.
-----------
In other news:
The issue of the ethics/teacher/student seems to be resolving itself. I put myself into contact with the mother of my student, and she agrees with me in that she would like the teacher and the tutor to be in some sort of working contact. She is planning a meeting with that teacher in the next week, so hopefully all will be ironed out. I mentioned my fear of, through my honest attempts at opening lines of communication, having compromised my student's best interests in that classroom and want to ensure that does not, in fact, occur. Hopefully all will be ironed out.
So I feel better. To the gym today for a little bit of ME-TIME. I need to move my body, stand on my head with nobody around to push me over and giggle, stretch, exert...
miércoles, 28 de noviembre de 2007
ethics
My ethical ideals in the workplace have caused more trouble than good in the history of my career in education.
I remember lying to my parents about taking on my very first student when I was a senior in high school. I was already active in way too many activities, ranging from debate team to two different orchestras to being the school board representative, while also holding a part-time job in a new teeny-bopper clothing store in the newly opened Mall in town (this was the late 1980s). And yet I was given what I saw in my 17-year old eyes to be the opportunity of a lifetime: to have a private violin student of my own. I made arrangements with my orchestra teacher to stay after school and reserve the orchestra practice room to facilitate this subversion of my parents' will for one hour a week. I don't believe they ever found out about this student until well after our arrangement had ended, when I ran into that student later while home on break from the University.
Why did I go behind their backs? Only because I really wanted the chance to teach. I had two parents who were teachers, good teachers, and all I wanted since I was a child was to teach. It was what I believed to be a time to start whittling down that which I wanted to teach and that which I did not.
I permitted myself to become emotionally involved in the lives of the Mexican custodial staff at the University and the children of those who had come to the local farms as strawberry pickers while teaching ESL classes. I became an on-campus advocate, a voice for those who worked at cleaning our messes, scrubbing our toilets and disposing of our trash who were essentially invisible to the student population, and spent many hours in the office of the head of Student Services trying to not only bring to light but also to inform and, ultimately, resolve discriminatory practices and what simply boiled down to disrespectful treatment of others. That did not earn me a lot of new friends--but I felt I did not need the friendship of those who would treat Mexicans so badly.
I felt horrible when one of the small children I worked with as a local ESL teacher in the elementary school would test positive for TB; so horrible that I would accompany to the lung x-ray procedure the scared child who did not speak English and who had never before seen machinery as that we see in any local hospital here...all after-hours work, but my conscience would not permit those children to experience that without someone there to hold their hand, make communication easier, and let them know it would all be just fine.
In Japan I entered the 職員室 shokuin shitsu teachers' office one Monday morning in the second Autumn, 1995, of my tenure, to see Mr. ゴ "Go" hollering impatiently and passionately at a male student, who was kneeling at his teacher's feet. Mr. ゴ then struck this child (a seventh-grade student) across the face so hard that he fell to the floor and he then began kicking the child in the stomach. I fled the room and threw up in the bathroom. Extremely bothered by this situation, I later went to speak to the 3rd in charge. His response?
-Oh, he wasn't kicking him that hard.
So, understanding the "see nothing-hear nothing-say nothing" rule that exists among coworkers in order to maintain harmony in the workplace, yet also knowing for a fact that capital punishment in the schools was at that time and continues to be an illegal practice in Japan (although, obviously, still practiced), I went to my head supervisor: the superintendent.
The next day, the air in the 職員室 when I arrived had turned icy cold. "Someone" had gone back to the school and said that I, specifically, had reported this occurance. Mr. ゴ did end up facing disciplinary action on the prefectural level and was demoted in position, and in the spring of 1997 was rotated out of the school to another. However I had to face him each day and a room full of coworkers who did not agree with my ethics in reporting something that was illegal and would never speak to me again. Interestingly, in the "welcome dinner" to the new teachers in April 1997, I had half the faculty of the school come up to me to tell me that they supported me and my decision, but they "could not say anything, of course...I'm sure you understand why."
While teaching at Tulane University in New Orleans after having completed my Masters (I had been in the PhD program but ended with my Masters for various reasons, including having just been married and having lost my father right at the end of my school work) I had a student turn in a paper to me in better Spanish that I could have written. It took my friend and I ten minutes to find the entire paper online, I submitted it all to the Honor Board of the University and this student lost all her scholarships, failed my class and was put on academic probation for plagiarism. She did it to herself; I have always made myself more than adequately available to my students and considered myself approachable and relatively flexible regarding arrangements for, say, handing in a paper late if there was too much happening in Life. There was no need to risk throwing it all away. It was hard not to take personally; did she take me as an idiot, who wouldn't be able to spot a plagiarized paper from a mile away? I did the right thing. But I could easily have ruined her life.
I just ended my teaching tenure at a local University for various reasons. There were interesting experiences had there. One regarding ethics revolved around a colleague who also tutored students. Unaware of the fact that she was tutoring one of my students that term, and considering we were professional colleagues I never thought twice when she emailed asking for a copy of the exams. I thought that, in that term, she must have been teaching the same level and didn't get the exams (this was a basic program 200-level course, so most exams were standardized with reasonable variation between versions). She, however, never disclosed that she was tutoring one of my students. A young man for whom I have since written a law school recommendation approached me following an exam and asked to speak to me outside, and mentioned that in his study group the night before, one of the girls (with whom he usually sat in class) came in waving a couple pieces of paper saying, "I've got the exam!" He said that he left, knowing that his entire future could be in jeopardy if he had remained party to that study session.
So I then decided to go first to the departmental secretary, who had been around for years and who truly ran the Department (everyone knows that is true in every Department) and asked her opinion as to what I should do...this was a strong accusation against a professional colleague. I talked then to my Chair and he took things from there. I, of course, had to deal with the wrath of this hot-tempered latina who had her integrity questioned and suffered what she described being the most humilliating experience of her professional life...all due to some here-say from a "stupid" student (her words, not mine). Did I have reason?
Other events occured and, at the end of last year, I decided to try my hand at having my own business. I have the drive, the discipline, the work ethic and the motivation. I had a room in my home I could make into my own home classroom. It has been a learning experience but I have several regular students, am officially licensed with the State and the Town Business Registries, and did register as LLC to protect myself...just in case. I have dotted all my proverbial Is and am so honestly deducting appropriately for taxes...nothing is "under the table."
A few of my students are high school students in AP or IB classes, and their mothers had contacted me to request that I tutor their daughters for this school year. As a former educator in educational system, I find it respectful and ethical to let the students' teachers know that I am working with their students, in an effort to open lines of communication and so they know that this student is trying to get extra assistance in understanding what they are not grasping in class. We all know that teachers rarely have the time to entertain all the questions and to give the individualized attention that it can take for some learners to truly acquire their skills. I do not do my students' work for them; I do what I did in my writing classes at the University when it comes to their written work, which is mark their papers with editing marks, to which I provide my students a guide (indicating verb conjugation errors, gender/number agreement errors and the like but NOT correcting them) and expect the students themselves to perform the corrections so as to 1) learn from their errors, 2) give them the opportunity to ask me what something would mean and highlight a possible weakness that requires further attention, and 3) teach them how to critically read their own writing so as not to repeat the same errors.
Upon sending an email to one teacher, I received a response stating that she would not normally "waste her time emailing tutors" but felt it necessary to question my ethics. I mentioned we work together with proofing her papers so that she can come to understand her errors (indeed, the teacher herself does not "edit" or mark up papers for improvement but simply checks them off as completed and hands them back) and actually improve herself a little bit...hence the theory behind education...? Anyhow, this teacher said that homework is only to be done by the student and that we have violated this ethic, not to mention that it would be unethical for her to discuss a student's grade with a tutor. I had said that my student had a B and wanted an A, and inquired to the teacher what she sees this student's particular weaknesses and strengths to be, and how she might improve upon her performance in order to reach her goal. That has nothing to do with discussing grades; that is me doing my job in wanting to be on the same page as the teacher for the good of the student...a student who, by the way, has enough interest in the subject to want to actually learn and is willing to spend time weekly with a tutor to actually have her questions addressed in an open, comprehensible, patient manner.
I must note, I spoke to each of my students and had their full permission to contact their instructors previous to making contact with them.
I am astounded. I have never run into this issue before with other students I have tutored and, appropriately, informed their instructor of this assistance I was providing. I wonder how many tutors actually have enough "ethic" to contact their client's teacher and offer to work together. How many tutors have enough "ethic" to not just let their work slide as their student's work just to make them look good as a tutor and to gain popularity as a tutor who will "get you the grade"? How many tutors have enough "ethic" to deduct 35% and report all earnings to the IRS? How many tutors actually, honestly care about their students (I ask the same of a lot...NOT ALL...teachers)?
Now I am afraid I have created for my student an incredible conflict of interest in her classroom, with a teacher who is convinced she is cheating with a personal tutor and might actually grade her harder while doubting the integrity of everything she turns in...all because I tried to do the right thing and let her know that this particular student (and I am sure she is not the only one) has an "ethical" tutor who does not believe that secrecy should govern when the educational benefit to the student is what really counts.
Education...aren't we all supposed to be in this together for the good of those who actually want to learn something, not JUST for test scores?
Or perhaps I am just to leave ethics out of the classroom...? I hate to say that it all makes me wonder...
Or am I just terribly, terribly naïve?
I remember lying to my parents about taking on my very first student when I was a senior in high school. I was already active in way too many activities, ranging from debate team to two different orchestras to being the school board representative, while also holding a part-time job in a new teeny-bopper clothing store in the newly opened Mall in town (this was the late 1980s). And yet I was given what I saw in my 17-year old eyes to be the opportunity of a lifetime: to have a private violin student of my own. I made arrangements with my orchestra teacher to stay after school and reserve the orchestra practice room to facilitate this subversion of my parents' will for one hour a week. I don't believe they ever found out about this student until well after our arrangement had ended, when I ran into that student later while home on break from the University.
Why did I go behind their backs? Only because I really wanted the chance to teach. I had two parents who were teachers, good teachers, and all I wanted since I was a child was to teach. It was what I believed to be a time to start whittling down that which I wanted to teach and that which I did not.
I permitted myself to become emotionally involved in the lives of the Mexican custodial staff at the University and the children of those who had come to the local farms as strawberry pickers while teaching ESL classes. I became an on-campus advocate, a voice for those who worked at cleaning our messes, scrubbing our toilets and disposing of our trash who were essentially invisible to the student population, and spent many hours in the office of the head of Student Services trying to not only bring to light but also to inform and, ultimately, resolve discriminatory practices and what simply boiled down to disrespectful treatment of others. That did not earn me a lot of new friends--but I felt I did not need the friendship of those who would treat Mexicans so badly.
I felt horrible when one of the small children I worked with as a local ESL teacher in the elementary school would test positive for TB; so horrible that I would accompany to the lung x-ray procedure the scared child who did not speak English and who had never before seen machinery as that we see in any local hospital here...all after-hours work, but my conscience would not permit those children to experience that without someone there to hold their hand, make communication easier, and let them know it would all be just fine.
In Japan I entered the 職員室 shokuin shitsu teachers' office one Monday morning in the second Autumn, 1995, of my tenure, to see Mr. ゴ "Go" hollering impatiently and passionately at a male student, who was kneeling at his teacher's feet. Mr. ゴ then struck this child (a seventh-grade student) across the face so hard that he fell to the floor and he then began kicking the child in the stomach. I fled the room and threw up in the bathroom. Extremely bothered by this situation, I later went to speak to the 3rd in charge. His response?
-Oh, he wasn't kicking him that hard.
So, understanding the "see nothing-hear nothing-say nothing" rule that exists among coworkers in order to maintain harmony in the workplace, yet also knowing for a fact that capital punishment in the schools was at that time and continues to be an illegal practice in Japan (although, obviously, still practiced), I went to my head supervisor: the superintendent.
The next day, the air in the 職員室 when I arrived had turned icy cold. "Someone" had gone back to the school and said that I, specifically, had reported this occurance. Mr. ゴ did end up facing disciplinary action on the prefectural level and was demoted in position, and in the spring of 1997 was rotated out of the school to another. However I had to face him each day and a room full of coworkers who did not agree with my ethics in reporting something that was illegal and would never speak to me again. Interestingly, in the "welcome dinner" to the new teachers in April 1997, I had half the faculty of the school come up to me to tell me that they supported me and my decision, but they "could not say anything, of course...I'm sure you understand why."
While teaching at Tulane University in New Orleans after having completed my Masters (I had been in the PhD program but ended with my Masters for various reasons, including having just been married and having lost my father right at the end of my school work) I had a student turn in a paper to me in better Spanish that I could have written. It took my friend and I ten minutes to find the entire paper online, I submitted it all to the Honor Board of the University and this student lost all her scholarships, failed my class and was put on academic probation for plagiarism. She did it to herself; I have always made myself more than adequately available to my students and considered myself approachable and relatively flexible regarding arrangements for, say, handing in a paper late if there was too much happening in Life. There was no need to risk throwing it all away. It was hard not to take personally; did she take me as an idiot, who wouldn't be able to spot a plagiarized paper from a mile away? I did the right thing. But I could easily have ruined her life.
I just ended my teaching tenure at a local University for various reasons. There were interesting experiences had there. One regarding ethics revolved around a colleague who also tutored students. Unaware of the fact that she was tutoring one of my students that term, and considering we were professional colleagues I never thought twice when she emailed asking for a copy of the exams. I thought that, in that term, she must have been teaching the same level and didn't get the exams (this was a basic program 200-level course, so most exams were standardized with reasonable variation between versions). She, however, never disclosed that she was tutoring one of my students. A young man for whom I have since written a law school recommendation approached me following an exam and asked to speak to me outside, and mentioned that in his study group the night before, one of the girls (with whom he usually sat in class) came in waving a couple pieces of paper saying, "I've got the exam!" He said that he left, knowing that his entire future could be in jeopardy if he had remained party to that study session.
So I then decided to go first to the departmental secretary, who had been around for years and who truly ran the Department (everyone knows that is true in every Department) and asked her opinion as to what I should do...this was a strong accusation against a professional colleague. I talked then to my Chair and he took things from there. I, of course, had to deal with the wrath of this hot-tempered latina who had her integrity questioned and suffered what she described being the most humilliating experience of her professional life...all due to some here-say from a "stupid" student (her words, not mine). Did I have reason?
Other events occured and, at the end of last year, I decided to try my hand at having my own business. I have the drive, the discipline, the work ethic and the motivation. I had a room in my home I could make into my own home classroom. It has been a learning experience but I have several regular students, am officially licensed with the State and the Town Business Registries, and did register as LLC to protect myself...just in case. I have dotted all my proverbial Is and am so honestly deducting appropriately for taxes...nothing is "under the table."
A few of my students are high school students in AP or IB classes, and their mothers had contacted me to request that I tutor their daughters for this school year. As a former educator in educational system, I find it respectful and ethical to let the students' teachers know that I am working with their students, in an effort to open lines of communication and so they know that this student is trying to get extra assistance in understanding what they are not grasping in class. We all know that teachers rarely have the time to entertain all the questions and to give the individualized attention that it can take for some learners to truly acquire their skills. I do not do my students' work for them; I do what I did in my writing classes at the University when it comes to their written work, which is mark their papers with editing marks, to which I provide my students a guide (indicating verb conjugation errors, gender/number agreement errors and the like but NOT correcting them) and expect the students themselves to perform the corrections so as to 1) learn from their errors, 2) give them the opportunity to ask me what something would mean and highlight a possible weakness that requires further attention, and 3) teach them how to critically read their own writing so as not to repeat the same errors.
Upon sending an email to one teacher, I received a response stating that she would not normally "waste her time emailing tutors" but felt it necessary to question my ethics. I mentioned we work together with proofing her papers so that she can come to understand her errors (indeed, the teacher herself does not "edit" or mark up papers for improvement but simply checks them off as completed and hands them back) and actually improve herself a little bit...hence the theory behind education...? Anyhow, this teacher said that homework is only to be done by the student and that we have violated this ethic, not to mention that it would be unethical for her to discuss a student's grade with a tutor. I had said that my student had a B and wanted an A, and inquired to the teacher what she sees this student's particular weaknesses and strengths to be, and how she might improve upon her performance in order to reach her goal. That has nothing to do with discussing grades; that is me doing my job in wanting to be on the same page as the teacher for the good of the student...a student who, by the way, has enough interest in the subject to want to actually learn and is willing to spend time weekly with a tutor to actually have her questions addressed in an open, comprehensible, patient manner.
I must note, I spoke to each of my students and had their full permission to contact their instructors previous to making contact with them.
I am astounded. I have never run into this issue before with other students I have tutored and, appropriately, informed their instructor of this assistance I was providing. I wonder how many tutors actually have enough "ethic" to contact their client's teacher and offer to work together. How many tutors have enough "ethic" to not just let their work slide as their student's work just to make them look good as a tutor and to gain popularity as a tutor who will "get you the grade"? How many tutors have enough "ethic" to deduct 35% and report all earnings to the IRS? How many tutors actually, honestly care about their students (I ask the same of a lot...NOT ALL...teachers)?
Now I am afraid I have created for my student an incredible conflict of interest in her classroom, with a teacher who is convinced she is cheating with a personal tutor and might actually grade her harder while doubting the integrity of everything she turns in...all because I tried to do the right thing and let her know that this particular student (and I am sure she is not the only one) has an "ethical" tutor who does not believe that secrecy should govern when the educational benefit to the student is what really counts.
Education...aren't we all supposed to be in this together for the good of those who actually want to learn something, not JUST for test scores?
Or perhaps I am just to leave ethics out of the classroom...? I hate to say that it all makes me wonder...
Or am I just terribly, terribly naïve?
Suscribirse a:
Entradas (Atom)
