Let's be frank...

To be honest I've been a little down lately, and I can't say why, exactly. At first, I thought it was because I'm coming off of some anti-depressant medication, but after more consideration, I don't think that's the reason. I've been coming off of it for almost a month now and I've felt completely "normal" (if there is such a thing, as my high school lit teacher would say) and great. Maybe it's the holidays...maybe it's the 2 week down-time from work...maybe it's my recent bouts with some soul-searching...unanswered questions, frustrating dreams, lack of routine outside of school. Yeah, I'll chalk it up to those things.

On another note, I've been meaning to write about our faculty Christmas party which was a couple of weeks ago. It was fabulous, and being around co-workers OUTSIDE of our 4 walls was refreshing and healing. We become more than our job titles. Our staff is composed of a wide range of age and ethnic groups which is enlightening on many levels. During the past year & a half at S.P. working within the African American culture, I've discovered how much more open they are in some ways. I can't really find a word to describe it, so I'll use a few: fun, accepting, brave, willful, succinct. In short, there's a lot less bullshit :) and you are accepted for who you are, where you came from. Your past is relevant in that it makes you who you are today, and not in the sense that it can be used against you. There's little shame or doubt and much more determination to do the best with what you've got. I think this has made or is making me a stronger person, someone who is more confident about how I've come to be who I am...and who I am becoming.

Now, I'm not trying to dog on white people, but it is different. I think white culture is so much more uptight, for lack of a better word. There's so much anxiety, expectation, guilt, disappointment, self-loathing. I'm not saying those things don't exist in African American culture, but it doesn't seem as prominent.

So what am I saying? I guess I'm saying I appreciate those aspects of their culture. It's helping me evolve.

Drivin' that Train

Okay, so I feel like a total schmo (define that as you please) for not posting anything in the past 2 months. I do, however, have legitimate reasons. First and foremost, I haven't had internet at home until very recently (try arguing with that one). Secondly, I've been dealing with a lot, including a move, an online course, and a puppy. So I'll break this up into categories for briefing, and more details will come later.

Move: I am, again, a resident of Riverside. I LOVE this area. Everything is within walking distance, the neighborhoods are old and therefore have tree-lined, canopied streets, and I'm only 3 miles from work. I'm in a quadriplex, and my 3 neighbors are great. I am eating up this whole living-alone-thing. I feel like I need this "selfish" me-time now more than ever.

Online course: Because I was a non-college-of-education major, I am required to take 15 credit hours of certain education courses. My cheapest option was through the University of Phoenix online. I just finished the first course (mind you, these are three-week, three credit hour courses. Ugh.). I'm all about teaching myself things, but I'm not all about paying $500+ to do that. Needless to say, I am not a fan, so far, of this whole online course thing. I'm not even sure why they have a professor facilitating it. They should just save themselves the money and have computer monitor your posts, entries, etc. It was cool getting to know some of the people, but I learn more by actually interacting with the students and professor(s).

Puppy: On Halloween, one of my 4th graders came to my room with a puppy hidden in his jacket. His homeroom teacher told him to put her back outside, but he came to me instead. He desperately wanted to keep her, but his mom wouldn't have it. So, I took her in. Samantha is about 3 months old now...I'm not sure if she's a rottie or a doberman or...? I guess it'll be a surprise. I've wanted a dog for a long time, and Sam seemed to just fall in my lap. It's fun having a puppy, but it's also teaching me a lot about patience that I haven't learned yet from teaching :) Imagine that.

More to come. And Uncle Pete, THANK YOU for keeping your blog up and running.

Close Calls

Saturday night at Neptune Beach, 8:30pm:
Dylan and I were walking toward the shops/restaurant area of Neptune Beach when we heard a loud crash of glass, followed by yelling. To our right were two men (who looked like bums) in front of someone's house. My guess is that they threw something at the window. (Walking faster now.) Before I knew it, there were 2 police cars pulled up in front of the house. An officer immediately got out of his car with his gun cocked telling one of the guys to get down on the ground. The other man had hurried off down the street in the direction Dylan and I were headed. (Walking even faster, moving to the other side of the road.) "Get down on the ground or I'll put a bullet in your head!", yelled the officer. (Holy shit, we're going to get shot). "Where did your friend go? Huh?! WHERE IS HE??" The guy, now on the ground, must have mumbled something about Dylan and I because the next thing I heard was the cop yelling, "Who? The guy and the girl?! The guy and the girl?!" We were the only "guy and girl" in sight, so, thanks bum, for pinning it on us. It was at this point that the 2nd police officer came running towards Dylan and me, but thankfully, this officer was not as hyped up as his partner. He asked us to stop and Dylan informed him that the other guy had sneaked into the parking lot to our immediate right and was wearing a red shirt. Within 2 minutes, the cop found and cuffed him.

Today at school, 1:20pm:
It was an early release day, so I reported to my post at the bus port. Arriving before everyone else, I opened the back gates. Daycare vans also pick up students in this area, and usually, they're not even really "vans", rather an SUV or personal car. A junky, red, 2-door Ford Explorer pulled up just as I was opening the gate. Not recognizing this vehicle as a regular, I went over to the window to ask who they were here to pick up. To my surprise, there were two, middle-aged white men with scruffy beards, overalls, and worn baseball caps, one driving and one in the back seat. I'm sorry, but they looked like total rednecks.

As I approached the window, they didn't roll it down, Instead there was this awkward interaction of me waiting for the window to roll down and them making some hand gestures I didn't understand. I decided to walk away and leave them be when the man in the back seat knocked on the window and held his Jacksonville Sherriff's Office badge up to the glass. Finally, the driver rolled down the window and said, "We just need to sit here for a minute and look like we're doing something. We need to look busy." It was then that I looked out to the main street and saw some men walking by each other. Drug deal, maybe. Then he said, "And what're you doing out here? You don't someone to take you off the street!" I explained we were about to start dismissal and left it at that. They departed a few minutes later.

Today at school, 1:35pm:
Still at the bus port, I looked over to the street again to see some 4th grade walkers on their way down the sidewalk just outside the fence of our school. Before I knew it, 2 of the students starting throwing punches and kneeing each other in the stomach. I dropped everything--my walkie, notebook, etc.--and ran over to the fence to break it up. Before I could get there, they took off running down the street. I guess they weren't hurt enough to be unable to run home.

Argh.

Boys

Yesterday, one of my 4th grade girls (let's call her Jada) came by to see me in the middle of the school day. I'm a little worried because these visits are becoming a habit. It all started2 weeks ago. This is the second year I've been teaching Jada, and I must note that she is one of my best students. I've never had any reason to reprimand her, no even for being too chatty. She had an outburst during class (after being provoked by another student) which involved her throwing a pencil across the room. I was very stern with her, mostly because I was shocked at her behavior, but also because she kept shrugging her shoulders when I'd ask her questions and then say, "I don't care". Grrrrr. Anyways, I kept her after class to discuss things one-on-one and she immediately burst into tears. Through her sobs, she explained that another student wouldn't leave her alone and was always making comments about her.

**Sidenote: Is there some psychological theory out there that explains the retarded-ness of the type of young boys who pick on girls to show affection? I know it all seems childish and simple, but even when I was Jada's age, I thought the whole I-like-you-so-I'm-going-to-make-your-life-miserable affection method was stupid. **

Anyways, we talked through the issue and got to the bottom of her out-of-character behavior. Progress. Since then, Jada has been coming to my room everytime someone is bothering her (hence the habit). When she showed up yesterday, she was wearing a jacket...a classmate's jacket...a boy classmate's jacket.

Oh my goodness, how the memories unfolded. I was immediately sucked back into the days of middle school when if a boy let you wear his sweatshirt or jacket, it meant he really liked you. (Well, that's how it was in my freakishly small private school.) I couldn't help but grin a little at the thought of such silliness. But it was a good silliness. And it intrigues me how seeing one of my girls wearing a boy's jacket triggered that particular memory which I haven't thought about in many, many years.

Recently

Here are 2 images of a painting I started. I think I'm on to something, though I've thought that during the last 3 series I've tried to start. I'm going to stick this one out for at least 6 paintings. This involves some collage, watercolor, pencil and memories.

Untitled No. 1
-mixed media on BFK

Untitled No. 1 detail

Off Gassing

The title of this post refers to a few things:

1. Has anyone else noticed the odor that emits from every Abercrombie and Fitch store, no matter what town, city, or state? I swear they pump their cologne through the vents, along with that god-awful techno music. I have never purchased anything from their stores and plan to keep it that way.

2. I've been eating Fiber One bars every morning. I'll leave the rest to your imagination. But, it's working.

3. I rode my bike about 16 miles today along the beaches. It was strange because as I passed through certain neighborhoods, there were waves of some smell that reminded me of old books. I love opening up an old book and smelling the pages. Uncle Paul, is this some chemical phenomenon?

4. I need to vent a little...orally. I'm tired, somewhat physically, but more so mentally.
I'm tired of feeling overly responsible for other people's feelings and then beating myself up for feeling that way, of having the pressure at work to make every single moment of teaching a lesson jam packed with excitement (I'm sorry, but like it or not, there are some concepts/skills that are just plain boring. It's like learning your multiplication tables: once you learned that, you could do pretty much anything in math.), of politicians who have never been educators spouting off "solutions to change and improve" our education system, and of bills. The end of no. 4.

Suggestions, anyone?: My co-worker and I are trying to come up with a story to base a Christmas-ish play from for our students. So far, we've considered The Clown of God and A Christmas Carol. We're finding road blocks with the former due to the fact that at the end of the story, the guy drops dead, and also, we'd need a killer student juggler to play the part.

Let me know if you think of any other well-known stories with a positive message.

Shrimp Fried Lice, anyone?

For the record, I know that the title is culturally insensitive. Apologies.

But it almost perfectly describes my "almost meal" the other night... minus the "shrimp fried" part. And instead of lice it was flour beetles (which kinda look like lice). I've been having a dilemma with flour beetles for the past few months. It's a wonderful thing---opening up your airtight (I need bugtight, people) canister of flour only to find it contaminated with little red beetles. And then to find that the corn starch, bread crumbs, oatmeal, and any other grainy food have been infected too. I cleaned out and sprayed the pantry and let it sit empty for a while just to be sure they were all dead. No sign of them for weeks, until last night.

I was boiling rice and as I was stirring it, I noticed these dark specs rotating around. They ended up being bits of discolored rice...phew. And then I noticed some stringy white things. What was first thought to be some grainy residue from the rice ended up being flour beetle maggots (which were still alive, mind you). I quickly retrieved the bag of rice from the pantry and sure enough, there they were: many, many flour beetles wiggling between grains of uncooked rice. Fabulous.

So now I'm at a loss over a few things...
1. My rice had to be thrown away.
2. I don't know how to prevent or keep flour beetles from infesting my food.
3. Maggots are indestructible. Boiling water doesn't do the trick. Neither does muriatic acid, bleach, or other household chemicals. (I know the acid and bleach don't work because my mom and I had a bout with maggots years ago upon cleaning out a trash can in the garage)

I'm open to suggestions. I've been told that if the plant where the grain products were processed was infested, then the eggs/maggots/beetles are already present in the food when you purchase it. But I find it hard to believe that several of the grain products I have bought and or replaced over the past few months are all infested.

Yum.

Explorations in Common Sense

The title of this post should be the name of a professional development workshop provided by Duval County for teachers needing just that...common sense. I often find that the frustrating things that happen with adults during the school day have much to do with lack of this much valued characteristic. As a joke, if someone would do something stupid, my mom would tap her index finger to her head and say "Kidneys!" That's what I felt like doing today to a co-worker, only my common sense stopped me from causing an argument. Or I could have said "Did you grow up in a mayonnaise jar?" as my high school history teacher said many a time. I won't get into the dumb details of the situation. So that's all.

On another note, school is going well (still!!). Hooray! I have my challenging classes, but overall it is a completely different experience from last year. Oh a whim, I came up with this little song and dance about line variety (zigzag, wavy, vertical, broken, horizontal, etc) for my 1st and 2nd graders. It involves some singing, clapping, and wiggling. The kids love it more than I thought they would. This is good news for me because they're having fun AND memorizing the names and directions of lines. Woot. When you're so focused on a high-structure classroom management plan, it is easy to forget that acting silly and nutty can be one of the best ways to engage everyone.

That's all for now.

Catalyst

Over the past two days, I've been pondering the following: When do or what makes your "true colors" shine (for lack of a better phrase). When do you feel like your core is stimulated? This is the conclusion I have come to so far for myself:

1. When the opportunity to give presents itself: this could be when someone needs a leg-up financially, emotionally, professionally, etc. This is something that has been ingrained in me by my parents and grandparents. For example, my grandparents paid for the hospital bill during one of my mom's pregnancies. When my dad contested, my grampa simply explained that this was an opportunity for him to give. He didn't want to be paid back but instead wanted my parents to help another person in the same way when the time came. And pass the deed on from there.

2. When I'm jogging: I become the most stubborn individual when I'm jogging. If I have a set destination in mind before the cool-down, I MUST reach it...no excuses. It's a little nutty, the thoughts that go through my head when feeling like I want to stop jogging. It's probably a good thing that no one can read my mind. Under no circumstances will I allow myself to stop jogging to rest a few minutes and then start again. In my determined mind, that's a cop out.

3. When I feel ripped off or like some injustice has been done: I magically become assertive in these situations. I suddenly have no problem speaking my mind and letting the other person know that I won't settle for bullshit. Right is right. LB, remember that time in JCPenny's with the gift card?

Anyways, what about you?

First Full Week = Success

I don't have much to report other than the fact that this week has, overall, gone amazingly well at school. I hit a couple rough spots, but I am really optimistic about the students' behavior this year. So far, I've been able to start out firm which is something I didn't do last year.

And my sister, Laura, is coming to visit her friend in Jacksonville this weekend, but we will get to spend some time together. I can't wait to pick her up from the airport!!!

Top 3 for the week:
1. I asked my kindergarteners what an artist's job is. One little girl said, "They make sculptures!" which totally blew me away.

2. As I was leaving work last night, a co-worker needed her car jump-started. Thankfully, I had just dealt with my battery needing jumped so I was able to help her promptly. I suppose things do happen for a reason.

3. My cousin, Katie, sent me a picture of her son, Luke, holding an over-sized clothespin after my previous "Unspectacular Quirks" post. Katie, that made my flippin' day :)

Have a look see

I feel obligated to fulfill the duties tagged upon me by kitkat, so here goes. I'm not sure all of these would be considered "quirky".

6 Unspectacular Quirks:

1. I still wear my post-braces retainer from the 10th grade. No, it is not the same exact retainer, but he point is that I still wear one every night. It makesth me feel vewy foolisth sthometimesth.

2. I have a thing for over-sized, everyday objects. I think it all started with being exposed to Claes Oldenburg's sculptures. They're so cheesy, but I love them. I currently want some over-sized clothespins for my classroom.

3. The only time I comb my hair is when I'm in the shower. Why brush curly hair when you don't have to? Well, maybe other people think it needs brushed. Oh well.

4. I am awful at maintaining CDs. They are horribly scratched because I just don't care enough to put them away. Even if I buy a new CD and vow to myself that I will keep it in perfect condition, it normally ends up in the pile of CDs in my middle console.

5. I still use my fingers to count while adding and subtracting.

6. I'm anal about how dishes are placed in the dishwasher or in my case, the drying rack. If someone did it "wrong", I will re-organize it by size, shape, color, whatever.

LB, RamseyDays, SurvivinginSafetyHarbor, FamilyLifewithElevenKids!, CoffeeTimes...it's your turn.

Here are the directions:
1. Link the person who tagged you
2. Mention the rules on your blog
3. Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours
4. Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them & leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they have been tagged.

Ball o' Stress

I suppose it all started with the dream I had last night. In it, I was attending my yoga class (which I haven't been to for 2 weeks); because I got there early, I laid out my mat and towel to save my spot. I walked out of the studio for about 5 minutes to take care of some registration issue/payment, and upon returning, there was some man using my mat and towel. Now, if you've ever done power vinyasa yoga, you know that you sweat profusely. Sharing a mat is not really an option. I explained to this imposter that he was using my mat and that he needed to move somewhere else. He had already sweat several puddles on my mat and the surrounding floor area. He refused to move and responded with a juvenile, "Well, you weren't here. YOU find another place". Argh! But this was MY STUFF! I kept on about it but he continued to refuse to move and instead just laid down so that there was no way I could move my mat. I remember feeling extremely aggravated and annoyed in my dream. I was baffled as to how this grown person was acting so childish and inconsiderate. How dare he invade not only my personal space/posessions, but also the one thing that I truly felt was mine: practicing yoga. I also remember not wanting to cause a scene.

And today was my first day of classes with my students. I have a killer schedule...and I don't mean "killer" like "awesome", I mean killer like "deadly":) Between 8:45am and 1:25pm, I see 6 different classes non-stop, give or take a 5 minute break in between. Lunch isn't until 1:25, and then I have 1st grade at the end of the day. As the chairperson of the scheduling committee, I am responsible, mostly, for the resource schedule this year. But I don't recall it being that loony. I don't recall NOT having planning time at all. I'm wondering where/when the change occurred. Alas, I am not the administration and they have the final say on what goes and what doesn't. I am truly hoping that I will adjust. It does make the day fly, though.

Though today went well with my students, I have to say I'm feeling a little down. And I can't put my finger on "why" exactly. Maybe it's because I've spent all summer being hyped-up about how great this year will be and then I was incredibly nervous today. Maybe it's because I've set really high expectations for myself and my students and am putting the pressure on too strong. Maybe it's because the new vice principal makes me really uneasy. Or maybe it's because some doofus is using my yoga mat without permission and sweating all over it.

Whatever the reason, please send me some uplifting vibes. Lord knows, I need 'em.

Anticlimactic

Fay + first week of school = 2 days of school, 3 days off, and some heavy wind and rain.

As my dad said, "I've seen thunderstorms worse than this!", and as Lt. Dan says on Forest Gump, "You call this a storm?!?!" I must admit that I am happy about the 3 days off this week. I spent so much time during pre-planning making my room look presentable (not to toot my own horn, but my room looks pretty awesome this year) and helping with other things around the school that my actual lesson planning suffered. This gives me the time I need to really get it organized. On the other hand, I have yet to see my students. Resource was supposed to begin on Wednesday. I had all this excited/nervous energy built up for that day and then poof, it's gone. I'm sure it'll all come back on Monday.

I'm at a loss over what else to write about....being in the house so much over the past three days has made my brain like jelly. I'm resorting to a "Likes" and "Dislikes" list...

Likes:
-birthday cake flavored ice cream with multi-colored sprinkles
-objects that are oversized (like jumbo clothespins, paperclips, or calculators. I know, it's weird).
-the color green
-this artist's work
-staying up late and sleeping in
-goldendoodles
-journals without lines

Dislikes:
-okra
-rude retail workers
-Hummers (and possibly the people who drive them)
-the sound of plastic bags rustling
-cockroaches
-Cameron Diaz
-gloomy weather (I don't know how you northerners do it)

How do you know the summer is really and truly over?

Two things:

1. Today was my last, official day of summer break.

2. Remember the Nickelodeon television series, "The Adventures of Pete and Pete"? I'd like to recall one part of a particular episode where Artie and little Pete beat up the ocean because they're upset that summer is over. This pretty much describes how I feel about the break ending. You can watch this from the beginning up to minute 1:45 to understand what I'm talking about.

"The future is no place to place your better days."

My yoga practice today was rough, more from a mental than a physical standpoint. Within the hour, I only felt truly present for maybe a whole 2 minutes. This showed in my posture; I was wobbling all over the place, losing balance, falling. When I resumed my practice on Tuesday (after the week-long visit home), it almost felt "easy". I left the studio deciding that I was ready to push myself to the next level...stretch a little farther, widen the base, hold longer. So that's what I did the next day and it felt great to up the ante. But today made me feel like I'd taken 5 steps backwards. I suppose I have much weighing in my mind. Still, I can normally focus on the "now" for the majority of the hour.

One really great thing happened though at the close of our session. After our Shavasana we end each class with 3 "Om" chants. Before doing this, the instructor told us to keep our eyes closed and truly feel the energy of the others in the room. Before I knew it, I had goosebumps all over my body; it was this amazing rush of...something...I'm not sure what to call it. No, I wasn't cold---the room is 90 degrees, remember? Anyways, it happened a couple times within the space between Shavasana and our Oms. I felt present then, and almost like crying.

I want to go again tomorrow and see what a Saturday class is like. Hopefully, I'll be more focused.

Being read to

I'm feeling a little brain dead. Maybe it's my constant fluctuation between being excited about the new school year but disappointed that my abundance of "free time" is coming to an end. Maybe it's because I painted a little today but feel like I don't know what I'm doing. Or maybe it's because within the past few days, I have listened to two James Patterson novels via audio-book, each one about 7 discs long, each one a murder/mystery/thriller, each one keeping me good and awake during my travels to April's wedding, and then to and from work.

I admit it: I used to get so annoyed when I'd plop in the car with my dad and he'd have some audio-book blaring, right smack in the middle of it, with me having no idea what was going on and not wanting to know and him in another world, listening intently to every detail. But now I can say that I understand the appeal of listening to books while driving. It literally makes the time fly by and it's entertaining. That being said, I have to acknowledge that I can't give James Patterson two thumbs up. His stories are very predictable in every way possible...even down to the aesthetic descriptions; each one is just as cheesy as the last. It's always something like, "He felt the warm breeze caress his face, and it reminded him of happier days with Christine, when she would cup his cheeks in her hands." You get the idea. As my friend April says, it makes you want to write things like "Gag me!" or "What crap!" in the margin. Only, you can't inscribe such things into an audio book.

Speaking of April, it was so great to see her last weekend. The last time we visited was during a show in Soho that featured some of my Italy paintings. That was over a year ago. One of the many things I love about April is that no matter how long its been, since seeing or talking to each other, I feel that our connection never wavers. It's similar to visiting family; you pick up in the present and there's no need for "I'm so sorry I haven't called/written" etc. The wedding was very low-key yet elegant and beautiful. It felt calm and comfortable. April, being the sensitive and wonderful person that she is, made everyone feel very much a part of the day. She customized the bridesmaids' bouquets by selecting different flowers for each of us based on symbolism with our personalities. Her bouquet was composed of all of our flowers (how cool!!). Come to think of it, she customized everything making it all very welcoming, unique, and just very "April" :) Anyways, it was great to get to know her family and friends and to be a part of her and Jonathan's day.
Much more to write about my visit home. Until then.

Trivial

Some things that have been on my mind lately, most of which I don't understand and most of which are trivial:

1. Why and how RadioShack is still in business. I'm not seeing the demand for a store that solely sells electronics and a Mickey Mouse phone here and there. Oh, and it has always been my experience, no matter what store or in what state, that the employees are annoyingly sarcastic...as opposed to funny sarcastic. They truly are the poster child for "Sarcasm is just one more free service we offer".

2. How athletes can complete a triatholon (particularly in the Olympic trials) without dying. Swimming to biking to running without stopping, ever?? Madness.

3. Joan Rivers' face.

4. Why Red Robin advertises in Florida when they have no locations here...same goes for Jack in the Box or as LB calls it, Death in the Box.

5. Why there are an abundance of nail places, sometimes more than one per plaza.

6. The fact that esurance.com advertises that because they are an online business entity, they are environmental...because they don't use paper.

7. Tyra Banks' show = a TV version of a tabloid.

That's all...fow now. Feel free to add.

The SRQ

I'm spending a few days visiting my parents before heading up to Hernando for April's wedding events this weekend. It's nice to be home and it's nice to be at a point in my life where I relate to my mom and dad not only as "parents" but also as people/friends/lifelong companions. I've felt this way about my relationship with my parents for a few years now, but the excitement of this aspect of our relationship never ceases to be refreshing. And I am exceedingly thankful. I spend most of the day-time with my mom (the morning person) and most of the evening/late night with my dad (Mr. John-Bauer-time. Go here if you want more info on JB time).

Yesterday, Mom and I spent hours sipping coffee and mulling over the woes of the education system (or issues at our respective schools), coming up with solutions, and laughing about some of the bullshit that occurs. We didn't change the problems of the world, but it felt good to get it all out on the table. I spent another 2 hrs. picking her brain over classroom procedures for my students this coming year. I have faith that my new plans will work, but sometimes I start to worry about this coming year...I cannot have a repeat of last year, student-behavior-wise, for their sake and for mine. I am hoping that having one year of teaching under my belt will make me more prepared. I suppose I need to tell the Capricorn in me to shut-up when it comes to expecting absolute perfection, especially in a classroom of 20+ students. Don't get me wrong, I expect great things and strive for that, but everything won't be wonderful all the time.

Anyways, that's it for now.

ps-does anyone understand the "Q" in "SRQ"? There are no areas in Sarasota County that start with a Q.

In Passing

While riding my bike around the beaches yesterday, I came across a garage sale in Ponte Vedra so I stopped to take a look. I noticed a lot of painting supplies for sale and asked the lady attending to the items who it all belonged to. She introduced me to her daughter who used to be a painting student at UNF, so we started talking about professors and whatnot. We studied under many of the same. The impression I got was that this girl has stopped painting (thus the selling of the supplies); I wanted to ask why but figured that would be nosy. Anyways, I came away with a few items either I or my students can use for still-life AND she gave me (FOR FREE) a sweet drawing table! It is adjustable so that you can lay the drawing surface flat or at an angle. Flippin' awesome.

Speaking of not painting, that's something I haven't done this summer as much as anticipated. My mental reason for not painting has switched from "Ahhhh! I don't know what to paint! I'm having a block!" to "Meh, I don't really feel like it". Fear to Laziness (both equal forms of resistance). I started a series several weeks ago. Two of them are shown below and the third is still sitting on my easel halfway there. I can't really put my finger on what this is all about at this point in time. I normally have a better idea of what a series means or doesn't mean after I have "completed" it. I have inklings of where this is going or what it is based on, but it is still fluid. I suppose interpretations are always fluid.
I'm not expecting anyone to critique these but if you have a comment, have at it. They're posted here more for my own records.

Read me.

I was going to rant and rave about this book and how much I love it, but I've decided not to. And then I was going to talk about my spirituality at this point in my life (maybe in another post, at a later date). But I am too tired to do either of those things. I will say that this is one of the best books I have read in a while AND that if you are interested in reading a semi-autobiographical book about a woman who gets divorced, suffers from major depression and anxiety, travels to Italy, India, and Indonesia in pursuit of pleasure, devotion, and love, then have at it.

I know this is a really sorry excuse for a post, but I'm at a loss for what to write about at this moment.

In short, read this book. It's pretty flippin' sweet.

Namaste

I recently signed up for yoga classes at a local studio. This is something I have been wanting to do for years...ever since my first experience with kitkat...but it wasn't feasible as a college student to pay an extra $50+ per month for a membership somewhere. I am finally in a position, financially, to do this so I joined this studio thanks to my friend, Jennah. The yoga at this particular studio is based off of a practice developed by Baron Baptiste called Power Vinyasa Yoga. You can read all about it if you so desire.

The room is heated to 90 degrees and for 60 minutes, the instructor talks you through a series of poses and breathing, more poses and more breathing, high push-ups, low push-ups (which all have fancy names), up and downward facing dog, etc. Sometimes the instructor will come over to adjust my positioning, which usually involves my hips needing to be pulled up, and I'm starting to feel like I have heavy hips. They just kind of sink! So I'm trying to work on that. I finally got up into a bridge yesterday with the help of the teacher (LB, I haven't done one of these since 2nd grade gymnastics). While doing this, I felt my body open up---like I could breathe more freely. Pretty amazing.

I am loving these classes; they are intense but relaxing at the same time and it really gives me time completely for myself. What I love most is that yoga provides a living/breathing example of the fact that the only obstacle in my life is myself. If I feel uncertain or wobbly or in pain during a pose, it is because of me and no one else (if I feel anxious or unsure in life situations, it is because of me and my perspective). Sure, there are external factors that affect me, but it is my approach that can change these feelings. (I think I'm getting too philosophical)

There are moments when I can completely focus on balance and control of the movements with breath, and there are other times where my brain and my body aren't in sync, causing a lot of wobbling and shaking, and then thinking "When the hell are we going to get out of this pose?" :) It's like switching from left-brain to right-brain mode. Believe it or not, you sweat profusely during this practice...in fact, I've never sweat this much in my life during a work out. Can anyone remember the last time their shins sweat? :)

Backstory: The Clincher

In previous posts, I had mentioned the beginnings of the after-school arts program (we have yet to come up with an official name). There were many people involved in this program, but my co-worker, Carissa, and I spearheaded it. When we met with our school donors to propose the program, we received a rather skeptical response: the word "ambitious" was used a lot which was understandable from their end (they were about to give quite a bit of money for a 30-day program) but somewhat frustrating from ours. Carissa and I knew we would pull it off...somehow. Anyways, they approved our proposal and so it went...we had ballet, African drumming, drama, and painting/drawing available to any and all 3rd, 4th, and 5th graders who were interested. Typing it out does make it seem a bit ambitious. I ended up with about 12 students in painting and drawing.

It was after the beginning of this program that I had accepted the position at the private school; but this after-school thing started to grow on me. Sure, there were still behavior issues and all that garbage, but for the most part, my students were focused, serious, concentrated, and consequently produced these amazing pieces of art. I started thinking, "If I could only make my regular, daily art classes like this, I'd be so much happier teaching." I started feeling really attached to this program because I saw the potential of these students coming to fruition, not just in my section, but in ballet, drama, etc. We were tapping into something.

At the end of the 30 days, we had our big showcase: Carissa's students performed their play, "Another Cinderella", the ballet students did their routine as did the African drummers, and my kids had an art show. We hung their work, which I announced was for sale, in our auditorium (which, by the way, for an elementary school is highly equipped...the stage is phenomenal with lighting, lush curtains, storage, sound board. It's pretty sweet.) I can't really explain how phenomenal every student did in their respective fields other than by explaining people's reactions.

1. We had more parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, whoever show up to this event than any other event SP has ever had. Seeing parents in the audience, intently watching their children, was so heart-warming.

2. This was the very first school assembly during which EVERY SINGLE STUDENT was respectful...I mean completely focused and delighted by what they were experiencing. There was no talking, ridiculing, pushing, shoving, or any other nonsense.

3. The chairperson of the foundation got up at the end of the showcase to say a few words and actually shed some tears. I was watching him during the play, ballet, etc., and he was literally on the edge of his seat the entire time. I can't recall everything he said, but he explained to our audience that this is the perfect example of why he chooses to donate his money to inner-city schools/organizations rather than hospitals or universities. He said he wished all those people who doubted his faith in our school could've been there to witness such dedication and talent.

4. Any teacher Carissa and I saw after that showcase said things like, "That was phenomenal" or "In the 20 years I've been at this school, I've never seen anything like this" or "How can I help next year?" or "The kids LOVED it!".

5. Any student Carissa and I saw after that showcase asked us what we'd be doing for next year's program? How can they be involved? When does it start?

6. Each of my painting/drawing students sold one or more pieces of art work and were able to keep the money they earned for themselves. This baffled them, and I'll let you use your imagination as to how excited they were.

I'll stop at 6 because this post is getting too long and could very well go on forever. This event made me truly question my decision to leave SP. All this potential, support, the beginnings of something those kids so desperately need, parent involvement (finally!!), the opportunity to help build such a program and incorporate it into everyday classes.

It felt like a completely different school during that half hour showcase...and I mean COMPLETELY different, like we weren't some poor school in the ghetto of Jacksonville with shootings in the neighborhoods (which did happen during the show, apparently). "Transcend" would be a good word. So, this all played a part in my decision to stay at SP, knowing that everyday will not be fun or easy or stress-free, but an event like that showcase made it all worth it. I feel like Carissa and I laid a foundation for some changes, and I want to see where it goes from here.

"Saddle up, partner"

Since school let out, I haven't been keeping myself to any particular schedule (other than sleeping in). Back in May, I was pondering my plans for the summer which included ambitious things like, "I'll get a part time job waiting tables or something so that I can a) keep myself busy/productive and b) make some extra money." I am unashamed to say that I did no such thing and have been content with awaking when I feel like it, sitting on the beach, painting, and reading. Sometimes I feel juvenile: I am an adult who still gets a 2 month summer vacation. But then I remember how insane teaching can be, and I get over it. Speaking of teaching, in the end, I decided to stay at my current school for reasons to be explained in another post.

On Tuesday, I returned from visiting my sister, Laura, in Austin, TX. It's true, I thought Austin would be flat and desert-ish with some tumbleweeds blowing across the parched land. I can't say I would have minded finding some cow skull on the side of the road and bringing it home to set up a still-life (can you get through airport security with a cow skull?). It turns out Austin is none of these things as it is full of rolling hills, greenery, lakes, and a thriving downtown area...not to mention limestone which is frickin' EVERYWHERE. One of the things I loved most about the city is its dedication to local businesses, especially when it comes to restaurants. It was refreshing to not see Applebees, Chilis, Olive Garden, Carabbas, Moe's, Panera, etc. Instead, it's very authentic and yummy. And I've never seen so many young couples + babies in one place. I'm certain I will go back many times. It was a fabulous visit thanks to Laura.

My journey home involved a connecting flight from Raleigh to Jax, and after being stuck in the Raleigh airport for 6hrs. and 30 minutes, I can honestly say that it is the most boring airport I have ever been to...or rather, stuck in. There's nothing except TVs that blare CNN's news which is completely sensationalized and ridiculous.

Example: They were talking about the recent salmonella outbreak with tomatoes and peppers, raving that the FDA has "NO idea where the problem is coming from". The headline on the screen said, in big bold letters, "FDA FAILS YOU!!!" This made me laugh. Oh, Vee, where are you when we need you?

What was supposed to be a 2hr. layover kept increasing to a 3, 4, 5, and 6+ hr. layover for God only knows what reason. Thankfully, I did make it back to Jax that night around midnight.

I'm back on the blog train, so more to come. Kitkat, thanks for the virtual kick.

Whaddya think?

Do you think you're an old soul or young soul? Or neither?

Sittee

12.31.1920---05.31.2008

My Sittee passed away on Saturday, so I flew up to Pittsburgh on Monday, went to the wake on Tuesday, the funeral Wednesday and flew back that evening. I remember vividly where I was on the highway when my dad called with the news, just as I can easily recall where I was when word came that my Grampa died this past Christmas Eve. All the emotion and tears didn't hit me though until Tuesday afternoon when Sittee's brothers pulled up to the house. Hearing their voices, their laughs, seeing their twinkly eyes (yes, Sitt's eyes had a twinkle) is what broke me down. The reality seemed to set in after that point. We stayed at her house (the house my mom grew up in) which she and Papa proudly built, decorated, maintained, etc. That house is very much attached to my memories of Sitt as we would stay there every summer for a couple weeks. Everything was there, in its place, except for her. It's almost an eerie feeling.

I loved her for many reasons, but especially for her steadfastness and sense of humor; the woman could spit nails if she wanted to. My most prominent memories of her include some of the following:

Phrases like:
-"I don't give a damn-shit!"
-"Blow it out your ass!" (this was always said after being beeped at while driving)
-"They're ignorant."


Things like:
-her amazing cooking, especially her spaghetti and meatballs that were always prepared upon our arrival
-her ability to consume an entire rum cake, by herself
-her laugh...her whole body laughed
-her hugs and kisses
-times she taught me how to knit and crochet
-how she always wore HushPuppies shoes
-how her knee-high stockings would always be down near her ankles
-how she would give my dad hell for not putting up Christmas lights at the Maple St. house
-how she would let out the loudest farts while walking around the kitchen and blame them on my Uncle Tom's dog, Sassy, even after Sassy had died.

Places like:
-the Christmas Store (open year-round. it was tradition for us to go and buy ornaments together)
-her house
-her yard: the mint garden, the flowers, the maple trees

There's much more, but I'm drained. More posts later...

This time last year...

Part I

It has become a tradition for the Bauer-side of the family to gather at my parents' house on Memorial Day (or the day before) for food, fun, laughs, brutal sarcasm, etc. This year, they took a break for various reasons, but I'd like to give a shout out to my dad who I love very dearly. Below is a photo of him from Memorial Day last year. Yes, that's right---he is, indeed, vacuuming the grill with a ShopVac. I love this picture for many reasons, but especially because it demonstrates my dad's intentions to be economical, no matter what the circumstance. Vacuuming rather than scraping saves time and kinetic energy, all the while getting bang for your buck with the ShopVac's versatility.





Part II

My friendships with girls/women/females over the years have perplexed me as I can never seem to maintain a close friendship. Over time, I have considered that my expectations for friendship are too high, or my definition differs, or I attach myself too soon to a person and then am easily disappointed with their "shortcomings". I can look back at situations and realize where things went astray, whether it was me digging myself my own hole, or just plain old-fashioned growing apart, or realizing months later that my first impression of the person was accurate.


For whatever reason over the past few months, I have been contemplating this issue more frequently. I won't go into ALL the aspects of my personality of which I am self-aware, but I will say that I realize it takes me a while (a long while) to truly open up to someone; and when I finally do, it is in cautious little pieces. Call this a trust issue, if you want. I'm still trying to figure it out. Anyways, this time last year, Becca (pictured above) came with me to our annual family Memorial Day celebration. We had become very close friends after working together for 2 years at UNF, visiting grad schools together in NC, and planning a trip to Europe to name a few.

It has been about a year since I last spoke with Becca: there was no dramatic fall-out or concrete reason (from what I can gather) for the deterioration of our friendship. Sometimes, I wish there had been some ridiculous argument....something...because it was like one day, everything stopped for no apparent reason. Despite trying to discuss it a few times, Becca dismissed the idea and that was that.

I sat with my thumb up my butt for a while, wondering what the hell happened and how all that time and energy invested in this great thing just seemed to disappear without a second thought on the other person's end. I try not to let experiences like this sway me from creating new friendships, but it's hard. In my bitter state, I notice myself getting annoyed with people (girls, in particular) who have that bond. Juvenile, I know, but I can't help it at this point.

So, I don't really have a point to all of this, other than this time last year, I was hangin' with Becca talking about the place we were going to move into and our plans for Europe. To be cliche, it's funny how much changes in a year.

Jot

Laura, I'm stealing your little sub-heading format just this once :)

Adventures in...no more baby-sitting:
During my absence from the blog world, much has happened, the most prominent being that I accepted a teaching position at a private school in Orange Park. Check out their killer website at www.sjcds.net This position is for Grades 4-8 which excites me; I used to think that I would never teach middle school, but after teaching K-5, I've found that the wee ones (PreK, K, 1, and 2, specifically) are not my forte...not 25 to 28 of them at once + paint, anyways. Because this new school is K-12, I will be working with 3 other art teachers (awesome support group). I think I may go through reverse culture shock as this new school is the complete opposite of SP. I have my moments of feeling guilty about leaving SP...really guilty...I adore some of the people I work with there, especially my principal. And I have grown attached and feel somewhat responsible for my students. However, I know this is a good move for me professionally in the long run; I will be doing much more teaching instead of disciplining...more art, less baby-sitting. If I stayed at SP, it'd be because I felt like I SHOULD and not necessarily because I WANT to. In some ways, I feel that if I stayed at SP, I would get lazy since the arts are not taken very seriously. Still feeling guilty though :P

After-School Arts Program:
So far, I have 12 students participating in the painting and drawing portion of the program. We've had 6 sessions together, and it's great! Sure, we had a rocky start, but once we received the shipment of art supplies (easels, charcoal, drawing paper, pastels, colored pencils, and much more) the kids began to take things more seriously. I cannot really explain the satisfaction I get walking around our little art studio, watching the progress of their charcoal drawings from the still-life in the center of the room. The principal stopped by one evening to see the progress. He was in awe of how focused the students were and how great their drawings looked. Then he said, "This is the perfect way for me to end my day. I needed to see this." which made me feel really purposeful. It's good for the kids to see that someone (like the principal) notices and appreciates their talent.

In other news:
---> One of my fifth graders groped me last Thursday, completely on purpose and with a smile...which made me feel ill. He was suspended for a whole day. I think that's too fierce a punishment, don't you? Good lord.


---> Last weekend, Dylan began teaching me how to surf. I actually stood up a few times! But I'm having trouble with the whole getting-off-the-board-once-the-wave-breaks maneuver. It was a perfect learning day as the waves were very small and manageable. This is a big deal to me because I have a minor fear of water....being under it, to be more specific. Swimming near the Atlantic has helped cure some of the fears though. Anyways, I'm excited to go out and try again.

---> I'm a slacker for not keeping up with my posts.

14 days 'til summer break :)

Ground Control

A few weeks ago, Dylan and were at Rita's getting custard. The people in line before us had a little dog with them which looked like a mix between a French bulldog and David Bowie. See below for my make-shift representation of the dog. We asked the couple if the dog's name was Bowie. It took them a minute to compute, but when they did, they busted out laughing and said, "No. His name is Dean", or something like that.




(+)


(=)



How could you not name it Bowie?

Blue...with encaustic

The art supply store down the road is having a "Moving Sale", so I decided to take a look. I came out of there buying two things, 1 lb. of beeswax and a tube of titanium white, neither of which were part of the sale, but oh well. For a few weeks, I have been wanting to try my hand at encaustic painting, thus the beeswax. From what little understanding I have, there are a few ways to work with the encaustic process, and I chose to melt the wax and combine it with some oil paint. Mostly, I want to use this for texture purposes; it will take me a while to manipulate it for "paint" application purposes.

Anyways, I have never been a huge fan of painting in oils unless portraiture is involved; my heart lies (lays? kitkat, which one?) with acrylics because of their immediacy. Plus, I feel that I was never taught how to use oils properly. A few years ago, my grampa gave me his easel, some canvases, and his paint bin which is packed with various oil paints, solvents, and brushes. He painted for many years (in fact, my first painting lesson was with him), but he decided to stop after Parkinson's limited his dexterity. I felt and still feel privileged to have these things handed down to me as there are several other artistic folk in the family. Whenever we discussed painting, he would always say, "I'm not a creative person. I'm good at copying, but I don't have an artist's creativity." I felt this way about myself during most of my college years. It has only been within the past year that I've started to tap into creativity, or so I hope.

Not really knowing what I was doing, I began melting some of the beeswax to experiment. Out of the hall closet I retrieved grampa's art bin for some of my oil paints, opened it, and had to stop for a minute. It's funny how certain smells open floodgates of memories...smells of this art bin provoked a mixture of memories: from the way my grampa would leave his brushes soaking in turpentine by the kitchen sink in his NC home to the way the painting studio smelled my second semester of freshman year at UNF...Painting Fundamentals with Prof. G (I hated that class). It's also funny how objects gain even more importance once that person is no longer around. It's almost like an artifact that shouldn't be disturbed. I managed to get my oil paints and continue my experiment, which was most definitely an experiment...in the name of art. I have a long way to go with encaustic.

So, I'm feeling rather blue today. Memories are wonderful things, but they can be bittersweet. On top of that, I found out today that Sittee, my mom's mom, has cancer which has spread to her spinal cord and brain.

There is this inevitable truth that people die...their bodies fail. And though we know the end will come, it's still so hard to accept when it comes to fruition. I truly believe that we are spiritual beings in a physical world, which is mind boggling. If we aren't spiritual beings housing souls within these physical forms, then we wouldn't mind hanging out with dead bodies all the time. It is the soul that gives the body life and personality.

Anyhow, what do you think?

blah.

Toppers

My top 3 for the week...

1. Today, one of my fifth graders informed me of the following: "Ms. B, instead of sayin' the 'n' word, we say 'ninja!', and if someone be actin' a snitch, we tells 'em, 'Man, you be actin' so white!'" ::sigh:: Just wanted to keep everyone up to date with the lingo.



2. I found a tiny, baby snapper turtle on the floor in my classroom; I left for about 5 minutes to run an errand, and upon my return, I saw it crawling across the art studio floor. Random. I'm just glad I didn't step on it! One of the ESE teachers decided to keep him as a class pet. They named it Franklin.



3. About 21 students signed up for the after-school art program :)


Side-note to No. 2: When my oldest sister was young, she had a pet turtle. My mom read that turtles need a certain amount of sunlight for their health. So, she plopped Merrill's turtle atop the fence, belly-up. Now, I'm not really sure if mom forgot or read incorrectly about how much sunlight was needed, but basically, Merrill's turtle bit the dust atop that fence post. Too MUCH sun, as it turns out, will cook a turtle. This has been a family joke for as long as I can remember.

Several years later, Merrill's co-workers (knowing this whole story) bought her a pair of baby turtles as a gift. She kept them together in a tank at my parents' house. The tank had some fake palm trees, a few rocks, filter, dirty water, you get the idea. I will never forget Merrill calling me one morning during my freshman year in college, half laughing, half crying. She managed to whimper out that one of her baby turtles had died. Unsure how to react, I suppressed my giggles so as not to seem insensitive until she let out a laugh. Then, I couldn't help myself. "But it's NOT FUNNY!", she squeaked. Merrill went on to explain that it seemed as if this turtle had gotten caught beneath the tower of rocks and stones causing him to be water logged...and as she described, the body was bloated with water from being stuck.

Now, I know it seems cruel to make a joke of this, but honestly, how many people can say they lost two pet turtles in their lifetime: one to overheating and one to drowning? Fire and water? Honestly. Anyhow, a year or so later, she let the remaining turtle go into the wild. I hope it survived, but I'm not sure how turtles make the transition from having tasty shrimp flakes magically appear to finding their own food :)

Cheers.

Perfect Strangers

Don't worry. I'm not talking about that awesome show from the late '80s to early'90s (and by awesome I mean LAME). I remember watching that show quite a bit when I was young. What I cannot remember is if those viewings were voluntary or just out of boredom.

No matter...


I was at the laundry mat today writing lesson plans while waiting for clothes to dry. It was particularly slow, for a Sunday, as there was only one other person around. Without any introduction or greeting, this elderly gentleman approached me and asked the following question: "If a man is starving, and he has a family to feed, and he robs a bank in order to feed his family, do you think it's cruel to put him in jail?" Not exactly your typical conversation-starter, eh? I was a little skeptical about where this conversation was going or WHY this conversation was started, but it ended up intriguing me. I won't go through all the details, but some of the points this man, Ken, hit on were illegal immigration, the North American Union (which I admit, I know little about), the education system, and religion. Sounds pretty heavy for laundry conversation. Normally, I get annoyed with people when they bring up such issues because most of the time, I find their arguments lacking what is most important: critically thought-out logical arguments. Ken didn't seem to be lacking in this regard, so I continued to listen.

He explained that he considers himself a revolutionary/idealist/activist, and that in order for our country to truly change, there has to be a sincere, action-based effort from the American people. Scenes from the film V for Vendetta (one of my favorite movies) flashed through my head (minus all the killing and masks). Ken reminisced about the time of the Vietnam War and the protests that followed...how dedicated people were to their causes. For years, I have felt that when/if it really comes down to it, the American people don't have it in themselves to truly protest, actively. So, I can agree with him on that point. I can't say that I agreed with him whole-heartedly on everything. And I never felt like he was asking me to agree.

As I'm typing, I'm realizing that this could be a very lengthy post, so let me try to wrap this up. Halfway through our conversation, he handed me a "business card" (I'm not sure what to call it...a "propaganda card"?) with a web address and an image of what he calls "Mexican Sam". I'll let you use your imagination. After mentioning I was in the fine arts industry, he went to his car and retrieved some political cartoons he drafted. Our discussion about religion is maybe a save for another post.

Although our initial interaction was abrupt, what I liked about Ken was that he did not ask me a series of personal questions; if I offered information, like my first name or my occupation, great, but there was no prying whatsoever. He would also periodically ask me if I was willing to still converse with him; he kept saying, "It's just good to talk these things through with other people---young people, at that".

One could say that this person had a major agenda in talking with me. But wouldn't that be the case for any and all activists? Is it really too much to ask for people to "do" instead of "think" about what they believe? It seems so foreign nowadays: to literally stand up for what is "right".

I have yet to thoroughly check out his website. I wanted to get all this down before I lost some of the thoughts.

There is some good out there...

There is a series on NPR from StoryCorps called "Recording America". I heard a particularly inspiring segment of this series last Thursday just before going into work. I meant to post this sooner, but kept forgetting to look it up. Anyways, it's called A Victim Treats His Mugger Right

That link will take you to the recording...it's only a little over three minutes guys, so check it out. If you'd rather read it, go here!

We need more stories like this one in the news.




Julio Diaz, NYC social worker

The Bell Jar

Last night, I finished reading Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar. This was her first and last novel and parts of it are considered autobiographical. I have always been fascinated by Plath's poetry and was excited to read her novel...which is probably why I finished it in two days. I don't want to say too much in case you have not read it yet and plan to do so; I will admit that it is depressing. However, I respect that about it.

If I could pick one word to describe The Bell Jar, it would be "raw". Plath holds nothing back, and I found myself completely engaged in everything Esther Greenwood, the protagonist, was feeling/experiencing. At some points, I felt like Plath was describing my own feelings, as I have had bouts with anxiety and depression. Aside from the raw-ness, I just like the way this book is written. She manages to describe people, places, situations, events, etc. accurately and succinctly without a lot of fluff. I didn't get exasperated by some 3 page description of a certain room or a sidewalk. Plath also didn't "waste time" on intermediate events; in other words, if Esther was walking home from someone's apartment, she describes leaving, and then picks up the next morning at the hotel, or maybe even weeks later. It is the reader's responsibility to connect some of the dots based on given information. I think this also accounts for my engagement.

You should give it a read.

Cutting Corners

My spring break officially started as of 12pm yesterday. Instead of being at school, I had to attend a workshop for all art educators in our county; the workshop involved a brief meeting about budget cuts, and then the installation of their annual elementary school art show.

About the budget cuts: it's all over the papers that Duval County Public Schools has to make $86.6 million dollars worth of cuts (Thank you, Charlie Crist, Tallahassee, and co.). In the list of proposed cuts is a reduction in support to art, p.e., and music resource in elementary schools. I found out yesterday at our meeting that the proposal is to cut this support by 50%. Yikes. A few thoughts...

1) I LOVE how the arts or what is considered "extra-curricular" is always the first thing to go. It is not considered essential to a quality, well-rounded education. This is creating a system in which the right side of the brain is never exercised or challenged. Using half of your brain sounds like a good idea to me!!!! especially when it seems that in today's job market, employers expect you to use your creativity to solve problems, increase gains, etc.

2) I think I have known this for a long time, but it has become clearer in recent months that I work in an industry whose existence and value has to be defended constantly. This bothers me.

3) My guess is that IF this proposal goes through, they will cut the number of art educators in the elementary sector by 50%, reduce the frequency of resource classes, and make the positions itinerant . I also suppose that they would eliminate 1st-3rd year teachers and hand over their jobs by principle of seniority.

In the meantime, I am looking for other job opportunities, just in case. My principal said he should know more by mid April. Grrr.

As for now, I am visiting my parents for a few days. I plan to do nothing but frequent the beach, get a tan, and organize some things for that after-school arts program. Yes, it has been approved!!!

Young Parking Nazis

Part I.

It is understandable that people who live by the beach are a little anal about parking; they don't want random beach-go-ers parking on their lawns or blocking their driveways. Besides, space is limited, and you are lucky if you have a driveway of sorts. We don't, so we manage to fit 2 cars in the little patch of grass just outside our front door.

The day we moved into our apartment by the beach, our neighbors across the way offered, "You can park on our side of the road because you don't have that much room on yours. That's what the last people did." We thanked him and thought, "How nice! We don't have to dangerously parallel park our cars in front of and behind the speed limit sign in the middle of our patch of grass, butting up to busy A1A."

So, I took him up on his offer...for 3 weeks...until I was hollered at (yes, hollered, while riding by on my bike). "I didn't mean you could park there ALL the time, I just meant while you were moving in! Move your car." Okay, my mistake, please be more specific...and it wouldn't hurt to start a conversation with a greeting like, "Hey" or "Hi" or "How's it going?"

Weeks later, we had some friends over for dinner, one of whom parked on the now forbidden lot. She was parked there for no more than 10 minutes when we went outside to move her car. Again, no greeting, just a "Who's car is this?!" I briefly explained and he made a grunt.

Part II.

A guest of our next-door neighbor parked in one of our two spots, so Dylan parked in a vacant spot in front of their house. The next morning, his car had a nasty-gram: "If you park here again, I will tow your car." Dylan wrote back, "If your guests park in my spot again, I'll tow their car." Naturally, a blond representative from next-door came over the following evening (with her cat, mind you) to bark at us for parking in front of her house the previous night.

From the minute I opened the door and greeted her, it was obvious that she had no intention of settling things cordially. Despite my efforts she didn't seem to understand why Dylan parked in that spot; and she convinced herself that she had every right to park on our lot, but we didn't have the right to park on hers...even though both are considered public, off-street parking areas. She made up some crap about calling the police and asking them about it, blah blah blah. I felt like I was listening to one of my 3rd graders arguing about nothing so I tuned out. Her finale involved her turning on her heel, swinging the blond mass over her shoulder and feeling vindicated (for pure stupidity??), while addressing her cat, "C'mon Cocoa!!! Let's go."

Thoughts:
What troubles me most about this ridiculousness (other than the fact that a cat was being used as a bodyguard) is the fact both of these people are young adults, probably in their mid-to-late 20s. The stress and anger derived from something as lame as a parking spot baffles me...especially when it was all based on miscommunication or faulty assumptions. Good Lord. I've always thought it was a bad idea to make enemies with your neighbors as you are supposed to look out for one another. Now it has become anything but pleasant in passing. Thanks, neighbor 1 and neighbor 2.

In the words of Ferris Bueller: "Cameron is so tight that if you stuck a lump of coal up his ass, in two weeks you'd have a diamond."

Peeved

I read that it is better to fill up your tank in the morning or in the evening because the ground is cooler, the gas is denser, thus you get more bang for your buck. And apparently, if you pump the gas slowly, you save money because when you pump on the fastest setting, you're essentially paying for vapors. Deciding to test these suggestions, I pumped my gas this evening on the slow setting. My tank was almost at its limit and before I knew it, there was gas spilling all over my car, my feet, and the pavement....which resulted in my bill being over $35.00. Pissed that I had wasted money and gas, and even more pissed that from my knees down, I was soaked in gasoline, I went in to tell the cashier that the stopper (my highly technical term) was malfunctioning. Trying to curb my frustration, I briefly explained what happened and suggested that he bag the pump or put a note or something so that the next person didn't douse him/herself in gasoline. He looked confused, paused, and said, "Oh, so you put your gas cap on too tight?"

Now, if anyone out there has seen the film High Fidelity, you will recall the scene when Tim Robbin's character (Ian) comes into the record store, and John Cusack imagines at least 5 different situations of the interaction he would like to have with Ian. All of these situations involve John beating the crap out of Ian for dating his ex-girlfriend. Anyways, scenes like that flashed through my head in the brief 2 minute interaction I had with Mr. Kangaroo cashier-man.


I should have let my sarcasm (which my family has ingrained in me so well) explode, but I was able to contain myself, and curtly re-explain what seemed to be a simple incident...emphasizing that the pump was broken. He still didn't seem to understand and offered a weak apology. Sure, it's not his fault, but be a little more sympathetic, or convince me that you will actually do something about it to save someone else the trouble. OR, even better, give me back the money I sprayed on myself and the pavement, and offer to spray yourself from the knees down with gasoline at Pump 3. Then we can talk about gas caps being too tight and it will all make perfect sense.

Aside from that incident, my day was pretty great. A co-worker and I have proposed an after-school arts program that will include visual and performing arts. If our proposal goes through, and we are permitted to use some of the grant money, we will be able to start the program after spring break. We should find out the results tomorrow.

Nothing important

I forgot it was St. Patrick's Day until I arrived at school and was threatened to be pinched because I wasn't wearing green. But, Happy St. Pat's Day to everyone.

The resource schedule has been nutty since FCAT began last week. Fortunately, it returns to normal tomorrow. I have not seen my 4th graders for a couple weeks, and I am sure I'll have to exert some effort to get them back on track. Hopefully, they can begin working on re-designing the sets for our televised morning announcements. The backgrounds for our sets are, in a word, fugly and have not been updated for about ten years (so I'm told). I barely finished asking the principal and vice principal if we could change it when they begged "Yes, please! You don't even have to ask. Just do something with it!" Let me just give a brief description of one of the sets to put this into perspective...

Made out of foam core (several layers hot-glued together) were these panels with grooves cut to look like a cement block wall. It was painted the same light blue of the actual walls....and the walls, not to mention, are indeed real cement block. Why, for the love of God, would you re-create what is already there and then paint it the same color?????

Anyways, I have taken on several little projects to help improve the appearance of the school. Fourth grade now has a large tree mural in their hallway, as per the teachers' request. They are going to use it as a "Compliment Tree" to acknowledge students of the month, etc. I have a few other requests which I hope to complete before May. Our school tends to look very sterile because of its previous function as a 6th grade center.

At this point, I feel like I'm rambling.

Happy Monday.

Life is Subjective

If you're a white person looking for a good laugh, or someone who is not white that gets a kick out of satire, check out this blog that I heard about on NPR. Stuff White People Like is a blog dedicated to defining the qualities of a certain subculture of white folks, and I think I am in this category. I find myself laughing at 99% of the posts which reminds me that 1) it's great to be able to laugh at oneself and 2) I'm not so different from others.

Speaking of Nos. 1 and 2, I can add SAIC and UNCG to my rejection list. Now I'm just waiting on UGA...my gut feeling tells me theirs is a "no" as well. While I can laugh a little about these rejections, I can't help but feel somewhat sad and disappointed (in myself or in the schools, I'm not sure). I'd have to say I feel pretty similar to my former co-worker, kitkat who has also blogged about her grad school endeavors. This has been my second go-around applying to graduate schools and being rejected, and it's starting to get old. Last year, I did not feel very confident about my portfolio; my work was not coherent and my statement was muddled. But this year, I felt great about everything. I had a rock solid body of work, a good statement, great letters of rec, a great exhibition record...this is when I want to blah all over the subjectivity of the art world. I resort to questions like, "What am I doing wrong? Is it my work? My statement? My age? Ethnicity? Are my goals out of wack? Should I have not written in my statement that I want to help the community with my masters?"

So, now I am starting to wonder if an MFA is ever going to be in the cards for me. And if it is not, what are my long-term goals? I can't teach college level art with a BFA. What other well-paying jobs can I find in the art field that do not entail a snooty gallery or working part-time at artsy-craftsy summer camps, or working part time at a museum @ minimum wage?

In the meantime, keep my students in your thoughts over the next couple of weeks. They start FCAT tomorrow, and if I'm tired of hearing about how well they MUST DO, I'm sure they've had it.

Happy Monday, folks.

New Developments...

I received my first rejection e-mail (sad I cannot even say "rejection letter") for graduate school: it was from UF.

I had a phone interview with UNCG a week ago, and I am not sure if it went well or not. It was difficult for me to gauge what they were looking for in my answers. I was asked a type of question which I have hated ever since reading comprehension dittos in 2nd grade. After they asked me to describe my work, and after mentioning Philip Guston as an influence, the professor questioned, "What would Guston think about you referencing his work?" This type of question peeves me because I don't flippin' know (how could anyone unless you ask that person). I felt like she was implying that I had copied Guston's work, which prompted me to answer the question by telling her that I had been inspired by his paint application, brushwork, composition, etc. I just think that often times, we presuppose an artist's (musician's, actor's, author's) intention based on what we know of the person and his/her life. This is all well and good, but I know that for myself, more than half the time, I do not have a specific feeling or intention or thought behind a work of art. It just happens.

Enough about that.

I just finished reading Atonement by Ian McEwan. This is the first time in a long time that I have a) read a novel and b) seen the movie before reading the book, and then been compelled by the movie to read the novel. I enjoyed the details of the characters provided by the book. For the most part, the movie adheres to the storyline in the book, which is rare. Because I experienced the story in "movie before book" order, it is difficult for me to decide if I truly liked the author's writing style, since I already knew what was to happen.

Send me some positive vibes. There are about 2 months left of school.

red hearts and green shells

Up until a year ago, I was not particularly fond of Valentine's Day; it just felt like a manufactured, greeting-card company holiday (which it kind of is, but bear with me)---a day when people suddenly remember "Oh, I should tell this person how much I care about him/her!" instead of doing it on a regular basis.

I would like to share and excerpt from my journal entry from this time last year. It reads as follows:

(A little background info: Isaiah was the patient I worked with closely during my internship at Wolfson in order to help him write and illustrate a book he created about his life. Keep in mind he was eleven years old when he decided to do this; he also had leukemia. Isaiah has since passed away, and I miss him terribly. His birthday was Feb. 7th. He would have been 12 yrs. old this year. Eight year old Janea was another patient I worked with; she's the one who asked me, "You know what the worst thing is about having cancer? Everyone thinks I'm a boy because I don't have any hair." Shortly after sharing that with me, she had a seizure while painting with Amie and I.)

02.14.2007
This was the best V-day I have ever had. I went to Wolfson today, and David came to make mobiles with the kids. He had everything prepared from the rods to the hearts, shells, string, superglue. He thought of everything. We, thankfully, had a large group of kids, all of whom made their own mobiles with a little bit of help.

Janea was there today. I haven't seen here in a few months. She looks tinier than before, almost malnourished. She was wearing a light pink fuzzy hat atop her little head. She didn't stay too long in the playroom. I wonder if all her hair is gone again---I almost didn't recognize her when Lori wheeled her down the hallway. So tiny.

Isaiah was too sick to get out of bed today---he looked pretty tired; tired doesn't really descirbe it, more like drained and fucking exhausted. He perked up a little when I went in to give him his Valentine. His Gramma gave me a quote from the JSO SWAT team coin Isiah has. 'Whom shall I send. And who will go for us. Send me. I will go.' Isaiah 6:8

I decided to do it on a large canvas so that it stays together better than the paper. She wants it large enough for him to read while in bed. I also made him a mobile today. That green shell, the only green shell in the bunch, had to go on Isaiah's mobile. I think I'm getting emotionally attached. ..

So, why was it the best Valentine's Day ever? Because it celebrated life and LOVE. I was surrounded by the best people, kids who wanted to do art, women and men who are improving the quality of life. So today was about life of the body and soul. Some expressed it with heart & seashell mobiles, others with pink, painted hearts and "I love you"s. I think this is becoming my favorite holiday; the one I used to LOATHE because of it's greeting card manufactured-ness. But I'm past that now. It's comforting to see reds and pinks, hearts, flowers, cards, delivery trucks packed with corresponding balloons. It's about love---something lacking in the world. How wonderful to be around people I love; to have people to love.


So there you have it...that recollection of this day a year ago occupied my thoughts all day; it was great. Such a great day for such a great memory.

Love to all.

Untitled

Ok.

I did it.

I actually painted tonight instead of sitting in front of the tube or distracting myself with other nonsense.

It felt great, cleansing, refreshing...and what would art-making be without a little frustration too? I chose to major in art because it is one of the only things that truly scares me, excites me, makes me want to better myself, makes me want to scream and walk away, yet keeps me coming back for more.

Cheesy, but true.

Here's to painting on a regular basis.

I heart public broadcasting

Okay, you must check out this site.

I barely watch TV, but this show caught my attention yesterday, and after seeing that you didn't need 589405209840249 ingredients to make tasty meals, I became interested. Tonight, Dylan and I cooked this super-fab Shrimp, Tomato, and Basil Pasta dish. It cost about $10 for the main ingredients, and there is definitely enough for another meal or two.

In addition, I have been listening to National Public Radio for a couple of years now. I prefer NPR to other news networks (such as CNN, Fox News, or local news stations) because of their approach to journalism. I never feel like they are pushing an agenda, and always feel like I am receiving the raw information from which I can develop my own opinion. Isn't that what news is supposed to be? I also don't feel like I am consistently being bombarded by negativity and propaganda, or useless information; eh-hem, can we say Britney Spears?

I highly recommend NPR on your drive to/from work, or whenever. It makes the time fly and you actually feel informed about things that matter. They also have podcasts available on their website. For more info, check out their site. If you click on "Stations" near the top and type in your zip code, it will tell you what station they broadcast from in your area. For my family members in the Tampa/St. Pete/SRQ area, tune to WUSF-FM 89.7

A healthy kick in the...

Whenever I call my mom with frustrations about work, she gently reminds me that everyday, I am there for a specific reason, and that reason will reveal itself at some point during the school day. And she's right---sometimes it's something obvious, sometimes subtle, and sometimes I don't realize it until I get home. Last Tuesday, my reason for being there pretty much kicked me in the ass. Before I explain, let me give you a little bit of background about our school's food program.

Basically, if parents opt to, students are provided with breakfast at 8am (which is usually something like a fruit bar, or cheese stick or muffin or egg sandwich or hot pocket) and lunch (too many options to list). If students remain at school for our after-school program called Team-Up, they are provided with dinner around 5pm. It is safe to say that the majority of students at our school participate in this program. The few that don't---well, it's hard to know if they are fed at home at all.

Anyways, Mrs. H walked her 3rd grade class into my room that morning and as they settled she approached me with a student who had his arm draped over his stomach . She quietly asked, "Ms. B, do you have anything to eat?" I told her yes, somewhat perplexed. She explained, "J didn't eat dinner last night and didn't eat breakfast this morning." I looked at J, now understanding his posture, and told him I had an apple, PB&J sandwich, and granola bar. The lack of excitement over an apple was made up for when I mentioned the sandwich. He didn't say anything but just nodded excitedly. I quickly retrieved my lunch from the back room and handed it over. He gave me a quiet "thank you" and went back with Mrs. H to her classroom to eat.

Not that I haven't thought about this before, but I can't imagine not eating ANYTHING since lunch the previous day as a third grader. Needless to say, I thank God I was there last Tuesday, for his sake. And I thank my mom for her perpetual selflessness.


In other news....(these are not in order of importance)

1. I've been having very vivid, lengthy dreams lately. Last night's was set at Sittee's (my mom's mom) house in PA. Nothing notable happened, but I remember feeling like I was actually there with her, helping with chores and listening to her crab about her daughter-in-law.

2. Last night, for the first time, I ate at this place called Mongo's. It is Mongolian-inspired cuisine where they cook everything in front of you on a flat-hot grill. I wouldn't recommend it because a) you have to stand in a buffet line to pick the items you want them to gril, b) stand and wait for it to be grilled, c) pay quite a bit of money and d) miss out on table talk because you're busy standing in line. The food was tasty, but the experience as a whole was somewhat annoying.

3. Laura returned from Spain last night. When I called my mom earlier, Laura was still resting (and rightly so). I am so glad she is back in the U.S. and I think she is too.

4. It was foggy at the beginning of last week during the mornings. I set up tables and paints outside so that students could depict the atmosphere with watercolors. I also had them write poems to assist their paintings. We read Carl Sandburg's "Fog" poem for inspiration. I was pleasantly surprised with their responses. If you are unfamiliar with "Fog", it is as follows:

The fog comes
on little cat feet

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.