aperture

things that are unexpected, but great

2012-01-29T20:48:00.000-06:00

--a refund check! I thought I was getting a bill, but it turned out to be $62.

--watching Black Swan. INTENSE.

--wasabi salmon.

--the knot in my back going away after yoga

--week 31. feeling massive, but still able to touch the floor with my hands.

skepticism of the even year

2012-01-08T22:18:00.000-06:00

call me crazy, but i've always favored odd years. all great things in my life came to me in odd years--i was born in an odd year, i graduated in odd years, and most awesome life-changes happened in odd years (i.e., my move to new orleans and beginning of my teaching career). this past year brought a lot of travels, good times with people i care about, and another decent school year. i was sad to see 2011 go, if not for the fond memories, but because life seemed to make sense most of this year and i know 2012 is going to be a year of big changes.

those who know me well know that i've always struggled with big transitions. i do not like when i can't plan the foreseeable future. the hardest year of my life was 2008, the year after college, when i had no idea what i wanted to do in terms of my career. navigating the initial post-school, beginning of adulthood life was more of a challenge than i ever anticipated. i absolutely hated feeling like i had no idea what was coming next or how i would adjust to those changes as they came up. the uncertainty of the economy didn't help matters, either; the sharp decline of the work world only added to my stress of "what's going to happen next"--there were countless resumes and cover letters sent to countless businesses that went unacknowledged. i had a handful of interviews that appeared to be promising, but ultimately, fell through. by year end, depression and anxiety had sunk in and feelings of inadequacy took the reigns of my day-to-day living. it took many hours of therapy to get a handle on my rampant anxiety and to break up with depression. check out some of those posts in 2008--not cute.

it wasn't until 2009 that things finally started to turn around for me. it was the year i was accepted to TFA. i finally felt more control over my future. it was the first time post-college i was able to plan for my future and be confident in my skill-set--and who i was as a person. it was the first time in a long time that i was genuinely happy.

being in new orleans has taught me a lot of valuable life lessons. i've grown more than i could have imagined. i don't think i'll ever regret my decision to leave chicago and pursue dreams i didn't really know i had. but as the dawn of 2012 has risen, i'm feeling less than confident in what the future holds.

new orleans hasn't been the kindest place to me recently. in the 3 years i've been here, every time i leave for a vacation or whatever, i'm always ready to get back by the end of my travel time. this new years, though, i was not ready to come back. i didn't even miss new orleans. in fact, i was so happy to be home and to be closer to family and friends that i SOBBED the entire way to the airport. then i sobbed in the airport, and on the plane, and the entire drive back to my house.

perhaps part of maturity is re-prioritizing who and what is important in life. i don't know if it's the years out of school or if it's that i'm expecting my first child, but i couldn't be less enthused about being far from the people i love most. that's not to say that i hate new orleans or that i don't value the friend-family i have here; i know i'm going to be fine. however, there's something to be said about having deep-seeded roots. one of my favorite quotes says "If you do not honor your past, you have no future. if you destroy your roots, you cannot grow." the older i get, the deeper these words resonate within my own personal truths.

2012 has already proven to be a challenge with material things--so far, in the first week of the new year, i'm going to be out about $2,000, i'm presented with figuring out new living arrangements, and deciding my next career moves--not to mention i have to begin preparing for my new favorite little one. the biggest challenge i'm expecting, though, is prioritizing my new life in a way that makes sense. and as we all know, the worst kind of pains are growing pains. at least that means that happiness is soon to follow.

at least, i hope that's what that means.

28 weeks.

2012-01-07T18:16:00.000-06:00

big difference from the week 20 shot. whoa.

working from home on a sunday.

2011-12-11T14:10:00.000-06:00

I went to school today with every intention of being productive. This week's a big week and I have a lot of catching up to do. I've never been disciplined enough to work from home. There are too many things I'd rather be doing! And, I prefer to keep my work and home life as separate as possible to protect what little sanity I have left.

Well, the internet was down at school. So, here I am. At home. Writing a blog post and NOT being as productive as I need to be.

Only 6 more days until Christmas break. That's all that matters anyway, right?

one more thing...

2011-12-06T14:50:00.000-06:00

I've posted this poem before, but it strangely has more meaning to me now:

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I'll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase each other
doesn't make any sense

--Rumi

11 days until christmas break, month six, and a partridge in a pear tree

2011-12-06T14:30:00.001-06:00

Needless to say, I'm a terrible blogger. I haven't updated this blog in months. Truth be told, I've become pretty apathetic to most things--or maybe numb is a better descriptor--this school year. There are so many other things going on that it's hard to evenly and fairly distribute my time and attention to all areas of my life. And, apparently, that means my time for writing isn't as important as it should be. Jack Ridl would be disappointed with my terrible decision.

This time I do have a reason for my excessive silence! It's bigger than work, and definitely deserves more of my time than just about everything else. Most people know already, but in case you don't, or you've only heard rumors, it's true: I'm going to have a baby boy at the end of March, which puts me at the start of Month Six:

This news is shocking to most, but I'm excited about the changes that will be soon to come. I love my job, but I've always wanted a life with more purpose (which is not to make light of my job--it has great purpose!). I think this baby will be just that: a new, wonderful, direction. Granted, it's a little unplanned and isn't exactly the way I wanted it to go--but I'm owning it. Just because something doesn't happen the way you wanted it to doesn't mean it's the end of the world. And it most certainly doesn't change the core of who I am--or who I am to become.

The pregnancy is going relatively well. With the exception of a mild stomach bug that landed me with an IV and a few bags of fluid, the only issues I've had in the last 6 months are sleep problems or heartburn.

I had no idea heartburn could be so damned miserable. I basically can't do anything without getting heartburn. People laugh at me for carrying a container of Tums at every second of the day, but if I don't, I basically want to die. I can't sit without getting heartburn. Laying down is out of the question. There's no one food that sets it off--I could drink water, for goodness sake, and I'll still have raging heartburn. It is, by far, the worst part about being pregnant up to this point.

Yesterday I ate an organic blueberry waffle for breakfast. I figured since it was organic and made from blueberries, it was pretty legit. What I didn't know was that BLUEBERRIES WERE EVIL. Holy mother of all heartburns, I was so uncomfortable for the WHOLE DAY. Not just a few hours, but literally up until I attempted to go to bed. Water just perpetuated the issue and there weren't enough antacids in New Orleans to quiet it down to a dull roar. I tried eating crackers and other non-acidic things, but nothing helped. I left work right at the release time (which I never do), went to yoga, and then went home to crash. It took awhile for the pain to subside, but once it finally calmed the eff down, I slept. Hard. I still have the drool spots on my pillow case to prove it.

Which brings me to my next point--sleep. I never know if I want it or if I am going to be making frequent trips to the bathroom throughout an evening. The first trimester I slept ALL THE TIME, except for at night when I needed to sleep. It was then I had to wake up every 3 hours to go to the bathroom. I barely made it through school days. My classroom kind of suffered because of it. Could you imagine being a student of a teacher who yawns while pretending to be excited? Yeah, me either. I felt terrible for my babies, but there wasn't much I could do to change the situation. The doctor limits you on caffeine so you're not dehydrated, but I needed the jolt of energy to make it until 4:30. The days I did yoga I had a much better chance of making it through the night, but there were no guarantees.

This trimester has been so far, so good sleep wise. Now I can fall asleep and make it through the whole night without having to wake up once. The sleep is so deep I find myself sleeping through alarms, people walking through my room, music, and just about everything else. And the drool. MY GOD, the drool. I've never been a drooler or a snorer, but in the last few weeks, I'm pretty sure I've become a walking bag of secreting fluids. Congestion and drool plague my sleep, but not enough for me to not enjoy the multitude of zzzzz's.

The thing is, though, I'm tired throughout the day, too. It takes me hours to feel like I finally have my engine warmed up, and by that point, it's about time to go home. When I get home, I have to force myself to eat healthy (but all I want are hamburgers, french fries, and chocolate shakes. Gross.), and then I have to force myself to go to yoga so I don't completely balloon up in the final stretch. Really, though, I could put on pajamas and go to bed. Laaaaaame. I don't know why I'm always so tired. Maybe it's because my belly is finally growing, or maybe it's because I'm working on creating a set of lungs in my womb, but I'm ready to take custody of my energy again because this whole sleeping 10 hours a day business is making me feel like a total sloth.

In the in-between time, I'm counting down the days until I can fly home to Chicago. This will likely be the last time I'll be able to make it home before summer (and without a million pounds of baby gear). My flight leaves the morning of the 17th all the way until January 1. I'm beyond thankful for the opportunity to spend so much quality time with my lovely family and friends. If you're in town, let me know! I'd love to catch up over a decaf cup of coffee. :)

things for which i give thanks

2011-10-23T08:53:00.000-05:00

It's been awhile, folks. Many apologies for not wrapping up my Great Lakes Adventure posts--in short, Chicago was fantastic because I have an incredible family and wonderful friends, who are like family. This visit made me realize just how much I miss living close to people who know me well...and love me anyway.

In the many moon since I've posted a lot of life altering things have happened. I won't go into detail on all counts of each of those things, but I will tell you what happened yesterday and why I'm beyond thankful for health, safety, and sanity.

You see, I have a particular attachment to my Honda Civic. Admittedly, I even named her Zoey when I bought her back in 2007. We've had a lot of great times, Zoey and I. We've traveled to many states, survived a few snow storms, and she even moved me across country. She's also the first car I've had to take a loan out for--my big post-college purchase!

Unfortunately, other things going on led me to the sad, sad conclusion that if I'd like to pay rent and, you know, eat things sometimes, my car payments had to come to an end. That end would mean selling Zoey and using the leftover cash to purchase a different car outright. Just as I was coming to terms with this next step in my game plan, everything got all...wrecked.

In an effort to get more sleep, I tried to go to bed at a reasonable hour. I love my apartment, but sometimes it's a little annoying that our walls are so thin. Usually on weeknights my neighbors enjoy blaring techno-music or a little Justin Timberlake--and seeing that we live so close to the highway they turn it up extra loud to drone out the traffic. Most days this seems to be the case and because of it I mostly learned to ignore loud sounds. I was blessed with the ability to sleep through most noise, neighbors, city buses, the dairy, etc. Last night was no exception.

Around 2:30 in the morning I heard a noise, similar to that of when my neighbor slams his door. I woke up briefly and attempted to fall back asleep...except there was a lot more screaming than usual. I heard a lot of ruckus outside, but I had no idea why. Not even 10 minutes after I decided to turn on FRIENDS to help me fall asleep, Mi came down to my room and woke me up. She told me not to freak out but...

a group of kids, under the influence of something, swerved going a little too fast and hit my car. So the loud noise wasn't a door after all. Go figure.

Apparently the 4 guys attempted to separate their car from mine so they could leave the scene of the accident. Witnesses were calling the 911 to get an immediate police response. In the meantime, my adorable, kind, old man neighbor ran to the scene to make sure everyone was safe...and as soon as he mentioned that he called for help, the guys jumped him. Terribly. His face was unrecognizable. People ran to his aid--all the while I'm in my room watching television and Mi is waking me up.

By the time I put two and two together, the group of kids ran by foot away from the scene, leaving both of our cars in shambles, my neighbor bleeding in the street, and who knows what else. They grabbed a duffle bag and took off. The police showed up as this was happening and caught all four of them.

I had to stand outside in the (what felt like) freezing cold to give my insurance information, etc. The kids in the car were clearly high and/or drunk and continued to laugh and talk back to police officials and the ambulance crew. I couldn't believe that after all that had happened--after all the horrible choices they made--they continued to verbally assault those around them.

My emotions caught up with me. This school year has been particularly challenging and other circumstances have left me at less than my absolute best; seeing my car ripped to shreds and watching 4 young adults throw their lives away over something that was so preventable, made me sob in the middle of the street. I felt like a complete fool as I blabbered relevant information to the police.

My mind kept racing--what if Mi had left to pick up Steven? What if I decided to go to Walgreens to get ice cream (which I had been tempted to do earlier)? What if someone was waiting at the bus stop close to where I had parked? People could have died. Sure, it may seem a little silly to dwell on the scenerios that are to never be--but when something like this happens, it puts so much into perspective. Cars can be replaced. You can always earn more money. But if someone were to have died because of their foolishness...whoa.

Just when you think you've hit a low, life turns around and shows you how thankful you should be to be breathing at all.

blogging hiatus.

2011-09-11T19:08:00.000-05:00

I was in the middle of posting about my Great Lakes Adventure this summer when I went missing for a little bit. Many apologies.

I still have several pictures and stories to post, and I will post them eventually--but certain life events have prevented me from making my blog a routine in my week. When I feel more comfortable with said life events, I'll be happy to share everything. For now, I'll work on continuing my Great Lakes Adventure and the start to my school year (which is going swimmingly, btw).

Thanks for your patience. I miss y'all!

Pure Michigan

2011-07-18T12:00:00.001-05:00

I think I've done a pretty good job of keeping my love for Michigan under wraps. But, it's true: the home of my alma mater and several good friends has undeniable charm and beauty, even in the winter months. I hadn't been to Michigan in a few years, so when the opportunity arose for me to drive with a friend I happily obliged.

Andy and I got to see a lot of our group of college friends. Justin and his wife Nicole hosted everyone for a delicious BBQ at their quaint little Holland home. When we started getting devoured by mosquitos we thought maybe it was time to take the party to the Brewery...but it was a Sunday. See, the thing about Holland is that it's actually really boring. If it weren't for great friends, I don't know that I could have lasted 4 years there! Because Holland is so Dutch Reformed, all the bars and restaurants close around 9, if they were open to begin with. Thankfully, the one thing that did change was the grand opening of a Buffalo Wild Wings in the area. I was finally able to enjoy an Oberon and we all "hooped it up" on the silly free-throw shooting video game. I will say that B-Dubs has never been an establishment that I loved, but it served its purpose that Sunday. It was nice to spend quality time with everyone, even if it was only for a few hours.

My mission for Monday was to do nothing on the beach. One of Holland's redeeming qualities is having the most beautiful beaches!

Except, when I woke up that morning, there was a giant wall cloud tearing up the lakefront. I've never seen anything like it. I watched 100 year old trees get ripped out of the ground and snapped in half like they were mere twigs. Instead of going to a basement or something, I just went back to bed. It was probably a stupid decision, but everyone survived. We got to survey the damage later on Hope's campus:

Outside of the damaged trees, Hope's campus is precisely how I left it almost five years ago. We walked around campus to visit almost all of our old stomping grounds. We even walked to Centennial and Mayors cottages! Here's Curt and Andy on the porch of their old house:

With the exception of Graves Hall, all the buildings look and smell exactly the same. Sometimes I think Holland is in a time warp--nothing changes. Ever. I mean, even the Cool Beans menu is the same!

Still, I've never regretted my decision to go to Hope. Even today I firmly believe Hope was exactly where I needed to be at that point in my life. The consistency and small town mentality helped me become who I am today and helped me cultivate lifelong friendships. I will always be thankful to Hope for that.

The weather cleared up a little bit, so Luke and I went to Tunnel Park for a little while and watched the giant-for-Lake Michigan waves roll in. I regret not taking any pictures of the waves because they really were some of the biggest I'd seen in a long time, but such is life. And maybe I was more nostalgic and romantic like because I hadn't spent quality time in the Midwest lately--who knows.

That evening, a group of us headed to Founder's Brewery in Grand Rapids for some delicious Michigan brew. I tried the Cerise, a cherry beer that is perfect for summer. Apparently people either love it or hate it. I loved it. At first I thought maybe it'd be more of a candy-cherry flavor; but, it was true to actual cherries so it wasn't too sweet. I sampled a few other beers including Imperial Stout, Dirty Bastard, and Red's Rye PA. All were great in their own right, but seeing that I'm more of a wine person, I'm never overly enthusiastic with beer. If you're ever in Michigan, you should stop by Founder's and try it out for yourself.

My last stint in Western Michigan was spent on Gun Lake. Curt, Jamie, and Mark work at Gun Lake Rentals, so we were able to play around on jet skis, go tubing, and relax on a pontoon boat. Being on the water with good friends is the perfect way to spend a summer Tuesday. I wish I could do it more often. I mean, how can you resist this?:

Later in the week, I was able to get up to see my old college roommate and adorable godbaby! I was supposed to be able to see them over the weekend, but because I was stuck in Savannah for a little longer than expected, my Michigan plans had to be altered. Even though I didn't get to spend as much time as I wanted with them, I still got to see Megan's adorable little home and snuggle with the cutest little girl in the world. Isn't she precious?

I'm not sure when I'll next be in the Mitten, but I'm glad I was able to take a few days of my Great Lakes vacation to visit this time.

Savannah and Charleston

2011-07-14T11:59:00.000-05:00

As soon as school was over, I jumped in my car and headed to the southern hospitality capital, Savannah, Georgia. My good friend just moved there, so I invited myself to visit over Fourth of July weekend. I'd never been to Savannah before, and seeing that I've somehow avoided traveling outside the city limits of New Orleans, I thought it a perfect place to begin my summer travels.

We began the weekend strolling down Congress Street. I can best describe Congress Street as a yuppie Frenchmen St. without the good music. There are a lot of unique places to go and it was fun to jump in and out of a few of the popular Savannah establishments. I wish I remembered the names of all the places we went--I know The Rail Pub was one of them--but it was a late night after a long drive. After our galavanting down Congress came to an end, we meandered down the street to my car...to find a flat tire. Yep, 12 hours of driving and 2 hours of drinking and I find a flat tire on my poor Honda Civic. Thank goodness for Christopher and his roommate, Shem, for changing that tire at 3 in the morning. We (They) threw the spare on it and we puttered back to Chris's house on my donut tire.

The next day Chris and I went out for brunch to help curb what was left of a PBR buzz and flat tire bitterness. He took me to the diner described in the book Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, Clary's Cafe. It's world famous.

The menu was interesting and completely southern. Biscuits and gravy, scrambled eggs paired with giant slabs of meat, and my personal favorite, The Elvis, waffles stuffed with peanut butter and bananas. I had to specify that I wanted unsweet iced tea and the waitress wore an American Flag t-shirt. Pure South.

After our delicious Southern breakfast, Chris and I ventured to South Carolina for the day with his roommates. He knew I wanted to see Charleston, so he somehow got a hook up for us to stay for free! Charleston is about 2 hours north of Savannah--what an absolutely gorgeous drive. South Carolina might have some shady political issues, but it is, hands down, the most gorgeous state I've ever driven through. After we dropped off our stuff, we went down to Folly Beach. It had been a few years since I saw the ocean. I love the smell of salt water and the breeze off the water. This trip didn't disappoint!

Everyone in the country headed to Charleston for the Fourth of July weekend, though. We attempted to go out, but every bar was SO CROWDED that it was near impossible to get a drink. There was a wait to get into most places, which deterred us from going to more than one place. I couldn't believe it--a WAIT to get into a bar! I've never had to wait anywhere before! We somehow managed to score a table at whatever bar we ended up in. And then, promptly at 2 a.m., last call was announced, the lights came on, sending us into the night prematurely. It's been awhile since I've had to deal with a Last Call situation because in New Orleans there is no such thing as Last Call. In Chicago they have 2 a.m. bars and 4 a.m. bars--that can be annoying, but manageable. There were no 4 a.m. options in Charleston, so we ventured back to go to bed.

As if two days of excess wasn't enough, we continued our celebratory weekend back to Savannah's local getaway, Tybee Island. Tybee is a stereotypical beach party paradise, filled with plenty of dive bars serving pina coladas, people wearing less than bikinis, and even a Tim McGraw impersonator! We had all sorts of inappropriate fun until the wee hours of the morning. So I was pretty thankful that Chris and I spent the actual Fourth wandering around Savannah's squares and hanging out in coffee shops.

He took me down Bull St. to see the majority of the squares. Who knew Savannah was so incredibly beautiful?

Chris was an excellent tour guide and told me all about the Mercer House. Super interesting. Check it out! It's a beautiful, yet eerie home.

But even better than seeing new places, Chris and I continued our tradition of playing travel Scrabble in a little coffeehouse outside of Chippewa Square--my favorite square and the site of Forrest Gump! I won't embarrass him too horribly here, but it was a victorious round of Scrabble for me. We also played putt-putt and Bananagrams.

All in all it was an excellent way to kick off my summer. :) I'll be posting more about my summer travels, including my love affair with Chicago and my short, but much needed, tango with Michigan. It feels so good to roam around the country!

sherman alexie

2011-06-25T10:08:00.000-05:00

I've begun my summer reading expedition with two incredible books by Sherman Alexie. Alexie is an American-Indian writer who likes to play with the ebb and flow of humor and tragedy. He's most known for his book The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, but has written several books, most of them involving American-Indian culture in some way.

The first book I read by him was the book Flight. The book has an overarching theme of justice and desperation. I don't really want to talk about Flight here, but it was the best way to kick off my summer reading frenzy. It's been a long time since I've read a book cover to cover in one sitting. I couldn't put it down. Literally. Thanks to Mike for bringing Alexie into my life. :)

Over my trip to Chicago I picked up Alexie's book War Dances. This read was just as intoxicating as the first. It's a blend of seemingly unconnected stories that feed into the concept of redemption. Redemption from God, redemption of a culture, redemption from murder, redemption from infidelity, redemption of ignorance. Somehow you're completely empathetic with each narrator as they tell their piece, even when the story jolts from one unexpected scene to another. This is the first book that's had me gasping and laughing out loud--so much so that the woman sitting next to me on the plane asked if I was okay.

Beyond the shock value of the actual "dances" themselves, I loved the poems that bridged each section of the book. I keep thinking about this one:

The Limited

I saw a man swerve his car
And try to hit a stray dog,
But the quick mutt dodged
Between two parked cars

And made his escape.
God, I thought, did I just see
What I think I saw?
At the next red light,

I pulled up beside the man
And stared hard at him.
He knew that'd I seen
His murder attempt,

But he didn't care.
He smiled and yeled loud
Enough for me to hear him
Through our closed windows:

"Don't give me that face
Unless you're going to do
Something about it.
Come on, tough guy,

What are you going to do?"
I didn't do anything.
I turned right on the green.
He turned left against the traffic.

I don't know what happened
To that man or the dog
But I drove home
And wrote this poem.

Why do poets think
They can change the world?
The only life I can save
Is my own.

and this one:

The Theology of Reptiles

We found a snake, dead in midmolt.
"It's almost like two snakes," I said.
My brother grabbed it by the head
And said, "It just needs lightning bolts."

Laughing, he jumped the creek and draped
The snake over an electric fence.
Was my brother being cruel? Yes,
But we were shocked when that damn snake

Spiraled off the wire and splayed,
Alive, on the grass, made a fist
Of itself, then gorgeous and pissed,
Uncurled, stood on end, and swayed

For my brother, who, bemused and odd,
Had somehow become one snake's god.

It's been a while since I've read something this captivating and thought provoking. I highly recommend both books!

What are you reading this summer? I need more suggestions!

year 2, complete.

2011-06-13T23:56:00.000-05:00

Well, friends, I did it. My corps commitment is complete!

It'd be cliche to say the past two years as a teacher in New Orleans taught me more than I could have imagined. So, instead, I'll just say I'm thankful I'm no longer in PR. And, because of my time here, I can say with confidence I've found something I'm passionate about. So passionate, in fact, I would venture to admit I'll be in education for awhile.

The thing is, when you start TFA, you really believe you're in this fight with educational inequity for a temporary time. You buy into a culture and mindset that the achievement gap can be closed and that you are going to be instrumental in making that change within a few years. I've always thought that to be an ambitious mindset, especially because when I accepted my placement I had limited teaching experience, no education degree, and no idea what I was getting into when I agreed to dedicate a minimum of two years to New Orleans. There are so many political issues and fundamental problems in terms of funding, quality teachers or teacher development, functional administrations, etc with these inner city schools--I had my doubts about what I'd be able to do as a classroom teacher to make significant change. I've wondered on several occasions if my efforts were in vain, or if I was actually qualified to take on such lofty goals in the classroom in two years time. While those thoughts are legitimate concerns, and have presented challenges, as soon as I got to work in my school I quickly learned that my two year commitment was just a springboard into a deeper, more meaningful movement.

New Orleans is the face of educational reform. With so many charter schools opening, people from around the country are able to move to the city and define "reform" as they see fit. In some circumstances it's successful. I'm fortunate enough to work for a network that is yielding great success and to have a part in turning my school from a failing institution into a high functioning, prominent school in New Orleans. Sometimes in the heat of the moment I lose sight as to how impactful my work is and how my day-to-day battles play into a larger movement. TFA tries to wrap your mind around the idea that an individual classroom, YOUR classroom, contributes to a larger picture at hand; but, when you're pouring over data, and writing lesson plans, and stressing over building a classroom culture that will foster a community, it's easy to lose sight of the big picture.

For a long time I thought my two years would pass and I'd move on to get my masters or do something new. But, seeing how my kids responded so positively to my teaching and knowing that my efforts will allow them to have more opportunities made walking away impossible. What I wasn't prepared for was the possibility that I'd fall in love with these kids and their families. I'm so invested in their futures that I can't possibly move away from here and give up on the progress that's been made. Not only am I invested in their lives in the here and now, but I can't imagine not watching how other teachers carry them even farther than I was able to in my first two years. The movement starts with a classroom and evolves over time. This is how kids lives are changed and this is how we are tackling the gap. It's why every classroom counts and why collective efforts from everyone, TFA or otherwise, are so necessary in making significant, meaningful change in education.

Just recently, I had a conversation with my Program Director about how it hasn't been until now, two years after my start date, that I've seen progress. I'm not talking about daily objective mastery or one particular set of test scores--I'm talking about a change in a child's life trajectory or realizing that a child has made such significant academic improvements that he or she actually has a chance to reach these "big goals" that warrant several hours of blood, sweat, and tears. Two of my students went from reading at a Pre-K level in middle school to scoring at GRADE LEVEL in two years time. Each of these students grew 4+ years in two school years and are now more confident in their ability to achieve. Are they still below grade level? Yes, but! The good news is that if their growth trends in 2+ years of academic progress in one school year, the gap will be closed. Those kids will go to college. And they'll be able to positively impact their families, their community, and ultimately offer a lot more to the world. The fact that they were able to do this in spite of being diagnosed with learning disabilities is even more incredible. I can't wait to see what happens with them in the next few years. They'll be with me for one more year, but beyond that, I have to believe they'll enter another classroom to another teacher who will love them and continue this growth pattern.

It's for these reasons that I can't give it up. No matter how frustrated I've been with my classroom or how much stress I feel, I can't walk away from these kids knowing that every little bit of my work really does matter. The achievement gap is not just TFA jargon/propaganda--it's a very real, very serious issue in the heart of our country. It's for these reasons I know I'll be in education for a long time, be it in New Orleans or some place else. I've never believed in something so much. That's got to count for something, right?

box and whisker.

2011-06-11T22:53:00.000-05:00

totally going to use this comic to show the relevance of box and whisker plots in a real-life situation next year:

rough week

2011-05-30T13:29:00.000-05:00

Here's a fun story.

Last week we took our students on an annual retreat that consists of doing outdoorsy things like hiking, sleeping in bunks, making smores, fishing, swimming in a lake, canoeing, etc. If you know me in the slightest way, you already know it's hilarious they'd allow me to chaperone this trip. I clearly know nothing about any of the aforementioned things (except making smores--that I can handle), but I'm trusted to take care of 50 kids in these circumstances. Ha.

All things considered, the retreats were fun. Only one kid threw up, no one burned themselves making smores, and we didn't lose anyone during the night hike. Success! Except, somewhere in the middle of all the fun I got bit by a spider.

Now, before you make fun of me for my irrational fear of 8-legged creatures, let me tell you it was no ordinary spider that bit me. It was either a baby black widdow or a brown recluse, common spiders in southern Louisiana. At first, I didn't think much of it. Did it hurt? Kind of. Did it swell? No more than my hip did when I got bit by something in the Alps (remember that, Lara?). I carried on and didn't make a big fuss out of the situation because there were children around.

Fast-forward two days. I start to discover a million and one bites all over my body. Again, no big deal. I just spent 3 days in the great outdoors with some of my favorite critters, so it's to be expected, yes? Except, that spider bite on my forearm is getting more and more red. I think it's all apart of the healing process UNTIL Tuesday morning when my arm looks like this:

I didn't get a picture of what it looked like on Friday, but let's just say I got so worried I was having a serious allergic reaction that I ended up going to the doctor.

You have no idea how dumb I felt walking into the clinic because of a spider bite, but I'm glad I swallowed my pride and went. Turns out that little bitty spider bite turned into a STAPH INFECTION. The doctor told me that if I had waited an extra day or two that I'd be in the hospital with a blood infection. Cute.

Now I'm pumped up with steroids to stop the spreading of icky venom and bacteria, really strong antibiotics so the bacteria doesn't travel around my body and kill me, some antihistamines so my uncontrollable itching is relieved, and some topical cream so my skin doesn't look so red and terrifying.

Thankfully, I'm feeling a bit better but I'm really tired from the medication and, I suppose, from fighting off a serious infection. Instead of complaining, I should be thankful that I caught it before it got to be too bad.

As if that wasn't enough, my bank account got hacked into and $400 was stolen. Chase is awesome and straightened everything out in a timely fashion (and they're giving me my money back!), but seriously? A staph infection and a violation of my money in the same week? Summer vacation needs to be here ASAP.

what does it mean?!

2011-05-15T12:08:00.000-05:00

I keep having dreams that I'm pregnant. Very pregnant. All dozen or so dreams usually involve some of these scenarios:

1.) I have to tell the guy that I'm knocked up, but the way he reacts changes a little each time. It's usually a relatively positive reaction in the end, but definitely causes a huge upset to our relationship.
2.) My belly grows HUGE really quickly. As in, it feels like a few days go by and my itty-bitty bump turns into a full fledge baby monster.
3.) My roommates move out, he moves in, and our apartment is overrun by baby furniture. Like, people donate 5 or 6 cribs, changing tables, dressers, etc--even if we say we don't need it. We'll get home from work and BOOM! more baby stuff.

My dreams are always incredibly lively, a little bizarre, and usually in color. They usually are entertaining at best. But this time, for some reason, this dream sequence has been really freaking me out. It's probably nothing, but usually when I have recurring dreams there's something deeper connected to it.

Do you think dreams really have significant meaning? And if they do, what does this mean?

bittersweet

2011-05-08T18:33:00.000-05:00

On a whim, I decided to come home to Chicago. I felt this strong need to be with my mom this mother's day. Beyond that, though, I've been questioning my decision to stay in New Orleans lately. I know, I know--I've said over and over again how much I love New Orleans and how I anticipate that I'll stay for an extended period of time. That wasn't just lip-service. I do love New Orleans and I do plan on staying for more than my TFA commitment. But, for some reason, I've been really lonely for home.

Even though it doesn't usually bother me to be far from home, the past few weeks I've been longing for friends and family. I've even been craving the fresh breeze right off the lake. There's something about Chicago that's restorative for me and as long as I can check in during scheduled breaks from school (usually around major holidays) I'm fine the rest of the year. Not this time, though.

So, long story short, I booked a flight and surprised my mom for Mother's Day. We decided to spend Saturday evening in a hotel downtown, a delightful treat that we've never indulged in. Not only did we shop in some of the cute boutique shops that I can't visit in New Orleans and eat at places like Julius Meinl and Cafe Baba Reeba, but we gathered all of my closest friends for an evening of good wine and conversation. I even got to see Elise! That was completely unexpected--totally made the month of May!

I have a great life in New Orleans filled with wonderful people, incredible opportunities, and fantastic weather, so why I'm hankering for home is beyond me. I guess there's some truth in the saying "honor your roots" because every time I think I can make it without support, I'm reminded of how great they are and how much their love has helped me become who I am today. I owe so much of my success to their patience and generosity. Maybe that's what I feel is lacking in New Orleans. Maybe I need to make more of an effort to keep in touch in more meaningful ways so I can stay connected to those who mean the most.

runnin', runnin'...

2011-04-17T22:10:00.000-05:00

My first 10k is on Saturday. A huge shout out to Chris Kardish--he's agreed to participate with me! I'm starting to get mildly nervous. This week I went to yoga 4 times and ran 4 times, but I still feel like I'm under-prepared. However, it turns out I can run 5 miles in a little under an hour. It's not the best time by any means, but I'm a little surprised that it doesn't take me 30 minutes to run 2 miles, so I'll take it. It can only get better from here, right?

You can find more information about the Crescent City Classic here. Check out the map--it's going to be a gorgeous run! Esplanade is probably the most beautiful street in the entire city.

In the meantime, how do you keep yourself occupied during a race? The last thing I want to do is think about how much more I have to run. The limited number of times I've gone for a run I found myself bored midway through the journey. This time I have an awesome playlist and good company--but I'm open to other tips and suggestions. I'm also willing to take new music to add to my playlist. (Elise, Luke--I'm looking at you.)

This is exactly what I need to distract me from the next 4 days. Testing is over and we have 4 days until Spring Break. I'm not exactly sure what to expect in the next few days. Maybe attendance will be low? Hopefully the hallway doesn't feel heavy with anxiety. This week will be a big week for me, so anything I can do to alleviate any stress or anxiety is a good thing. I figure it's either running and yoga or drinking a lot of wine. While one is more desirable than the other, I know running and yoga is a much wiser choice.

30 day yoga challenge: the sequel.

2011-04-12T21:15:00.000-05:00

For those of you who don't talk to me on a daily basis wouldn't know that I signed up for a second 30 day challenge. As if the first challenge wasn't enough, I decided that I loved yoga so much that forcing myself to complete another 30 days wouldn't be that big of a deal.

I was right in that it wasn't a huge deal. I mean, I'm so used to going to yoga on a daily basis that upping my attendance from 5 days a week to 7 days a week wasn't that big of an alteration to my schedule. Since the first challenge, I've only missed 6 yoga classes. And that was due to Mardi Gras; however, it hasn't been until recently that I've really seen the results I've been wanting. There are more noticeable changes in my body, my attitude/stress levels, and my endurance.

The best difference is this:

That's about a 3 inch difference in my waist, even more so in my thighs and arms. I've always been cautious about what I eat given family history, so I have to attribute these changes in my body to yoga.

I am nervous that I'll plateau in getting more toned if I only stick with yoga. So, since I feel more confident, strong, and capable, I've been going to the gym more often to run. In 2 weeks I'm going to walk/run the Crescent City Classic, which is only a 10k, but it'll be my first 10k EVER! I don't really care about time or anything. I just want to finish strong. It's possible that I'll sign up for a few more races throughout the year. Perhaps I'll try a half marathon if I can find a running buddy.

Even still, whether running works out for me or not, I'll definitely be continuing yoga. I think it's exactly what I needed to turn my life around for the better.

mardi gras dos

2011-04-11T17:38:00.000-05:00

I know, I know--it's been over a month since I updated about Mardi Gras. I don't even remember where I left off! I'm going to sum up the rest of Mardi Gras with pictures. Then, I'll post more about my recent happenings shortly there after.

Well, I gave you most of the details on Saturday, the day of epic parades. So, I suppose I'll finish up Mardi Gras with Mardi Gras Day--the St. Anne Society parade.

The St. Anne Society parade is all sorts of awesome. People from all over the city gather to march together. In costume. For those of you who are really into Halloween, you haven't seen costumes until you've marched in St. Anne.

Here are a few of the most incredible (or entertaining) costumes of MG2K11:

a view of Frenchman as people crawled out of the woodwork Mardi Gras morning.

oddly, restrooms are extremely difficult to find during parades...

this guy played some awesome beats on his tin drums as we marched in the parade!

Chiquita banana, anyone?

There are some other pictures I could upload, but for whatever reason Blogger isn't letting me. Hmmm...I'll try it again sometime this week.

Regardless, Mardi Gras is definitely a marathon experience. Who wants to come next year?!

interlude

2011-03-15T23:27:00.000-05:00

I know this isn't Part 2, but it DOES relate to Mardi Gras. Remember how I told you that Mardi Gras supports the NOLA community? One of the ways it does that is through paying local high schools a stipend to march in the million parades throughout the city. Kids practice for these parades all year. It's amazing to watch kids get so into the music--and they are soooo talented. My most ADHD, 2-years behind in reading and math, emotionally distraught students pick up their drums or brass instruments and, literally, transform into composed, talented, unstoppable young people. It brings me to tears...

..and now you can have the opportunity to understand exactly what I mean! A new documentary called The Whole Gritty City is being created as we speak. It's a documentary about the kids in New Orleans and how music programs across the city are used as a refuge for so many youth. While my school doesn't have a band that marches in the parades, several of my students march in a band called The Roots of Music. With any luck, they'll be featured in this film. The high school that is featured in the film, O. Perry Walker, is a high school that several of my 8th graders from last year now attend. A couple of them are in the band. I've never seen them so invested in school! This marching band is incredible. People go to parades just to see them because they're THAT good. You'll have the chance to watch how much they put into their performances through the movie.

See the trailer:

And, if you're really moved, back their cause through KickStarter with a minimum donation of a dollar.

The more time I spend here, the more in love with New Orleans I am. What a unique and awesome way to reach these kids and change the way our world thinks.

mardi gras: part 1

2011-03-13T21:52:00.000-05:00

After a month straight of parties, dancing, and parading, Carnival has finally come to an end. I know I promised a picture blog of all the fun we had, while we were having it, but that just wasn't going to happen. Seeing that I live so close to the parade route, we had people at our house for the entire week!

So where to begin. The days kind of blur together, but I'll do my best to recount the best parts of Carnival:

People started staking their claim for the best spots along St. Charles early Wednesday afternoon. Most of the best parades take place between Wednesday before Mardi Gras and Mardi Gras day. You start to see these creative contraptions on the side of the road, on the neutral ground, and down sidewalks that line the parade route. Usually these ladders are used by kids. They stand on the ladders and yell "Throw me somethin', Mister!" When they are tossed beads, stuffed animals, toy spears, etc., they place all their goodies in the flower box. This is why you avoid standing near children during Mardi Gras. If you stand too close to one of these ladder things, you don't catch anything. Mardi Gras pointer # 1: grab your space early, and avoid children if you want to catch the good stuff.

Thursday night we had a bunch of people over before MUSES rolled down St. Charles. I've mentioned Muses before--the all female krewe--who are famous for having awesome throws and shoe-shaped floats. So much fun. I was a little less enthused with Muses this year because there were SO MANY PEOPLE! I guess that's what happens when it's 70 degrees outside and everyone's in the spirit to catch some shoes and pretty beads! I didn't catch as many awesome things as last year, but Molly and I caught glass beads, a coveted throw at any parade. Some dude tossed them to us because we're teachers. Cute teachers. Mardi Gras pointer #2: If you want the good stuff, use all your best assets (G-Rated, of course). There's no shame in self-promotion at Mardi Gras.

THEN! After the parades rolled on Thursday, I drove to the airport to pick up my favorite person in the whole world:

ANTHONY!!! As soon as we dropped off his stuff, we went to my favorite dance-party establishment. My poor brother. His very first encounter with New Orleans was a BOUNCE party! This is something that's, as far as I know, unique to New Orleans. I'm pretty sure we heard the song that's embedded below:

Quick side note: this is the most tame bounce song ever! Google Magnolia Shorty--but be warned: it's explicit!

Anyway, Friday my brother visited me at school and got to meet some of my babies. It was great to have him see me in my element at school--and the kids liked him, too. And, thankfully, the ones who are usually more of a challenge in class were angels. I love when kids show you that they've been listening to you when it counts the most!

Friday, as soon as we got out of school, Anth and I went to Wal-Mart and bought a new grill. In the meantime, I gave him a driving tour of New Orleans before things got too insane with people! We built the grill, and people came over (a common theme of the week), then went out to the parades! Here are some pictures from those parades:

Anth and Amir after the first night parade

The picture's a little blurry, but I think it captures the frenzy appropriately. So. Many. Beads. He learned quickly that you have to stay dedicated to your throws! Mardi Gras pointer #3: Make eye contact with the float people and use your manners! It goes a long way!
It wasn't long after this photo was taken that he caught GIANT beads.

Friday night a group of us went down to Bourbon. Holy gross. I never really go to Bourbon St. because it's generally filthy and has a distinct smell of stale alcohol, vomit, and exhaust. But, we had two out-of-towners, so I felt it was necessary to at least SEE Bourbon St. one night. Not only did we see Bourbon, we experienced it hard core. Unfortunately (thankfully?) I don't have any pictures from that night, but all that really needs to be said about it is: ONLY AT MARDI GRAS.

Due to icky weather, all the Saturday parades were rescheduled for Sunday. So, Saturday was a nice opportunity to relax and get rehydrated for the Carnival fun that was to follow. Anth and I went on another mini-tour of NOLA and ate at The Joint, arguably the best BBQ I've ever had. The decor is traditionally New Orleans--a lot of homemade knick-knacks, mismatched furniture, and rustic charm. Here's a picture of Anth with his brisket. DELICIOUS. Also, I'd do anything for the "Be Nice or Leave" sign in the background.

I'll try and blaze through Sunday as best I can--but there were 9 HOURS of parades! People camp out on the neutral ground of St. Charles all day. They bring tents, grills, music, booze, couches, etc, just waiting for parades. It's the worlds largest tailgate!

We were one of those crazy groups with a tent and all the appropriate accompaniments. We also had a few people in costume! Some gold tights, tutus, a ship captain, and WALDO! Patrick is too much. Mardi Gras pointer #4: costumes are highly encouraged at ALL parades--not just Mardi Gras day.

I'll let you digest the first few days of the Gras for now. There's so much more to show and tell. Like I've said: Mardi Gras is a marathon. You have to pace yourself--thus, Mardi Gras posts will be in chunks. Be on the look out for more later this week!

carnival is here

2011-02-28T23:27:00.000-06:00

The past few weeks have been a blur of 75 degree weather, glitter, beads, dancing, and mojitos! Carnival is finally here!!!!! That New Orleans charm is out in full-force (ya hurd?!). Streets are alive with the buzz of tourists (no pun intended) and excitement for the big day--Mardi Gras! The first parade rolled through the French Quarter two weekends ago and the party has been going strong ever since. My favorites are coming up this weekend (MUSES!) and will continue to roll until Tuesday, March 8.

To someone who has never been to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, all this hype is a tad ridiculous. Until recently, even though I loved Mardi Gras last year, I didn't really see the point in this crazy, month long party. But Mardi Gras is more than what meets the eye. Did you know that Mardi Gras--and all that it entails--is free? As in, you can stroll up to the parade and walk away with amazing throws, listen to fantastic music, and have top-quality entertainment FOR NOTHING. You can enjoy it just because you're alive and in the right place. And you don't have to spend a penny if you don't want to.

The city of New Orleans actually doesn't pay anything for this celebration--at least, not in the sense of funding parades, etc. Citizens of the city pay for the parades. Every last bit of it. There are exclusive, fraternity-esque groups called Krewes that host each parade. The members of each Krewe pay a lot of money to create their parades. They host extravagant masquerade balls and collect dues from members to fund everything, including all the things that are thrown from the floats, to paying high school bands to march, and making sure that each person rolling in the parade are in costume. Elaborate, beautiful, unique costumes. The weird thing is that there are long, long waiting lists to join a Krewe. Most spots are passed down from generation to generation and are given to family members. I imagine it's a right of passage to get invited to more and more Krewe activities, and to eventually ride in a parade.

I didn't realize how much Mardi Gras benefited this city. Besides the obvious tourist draw, the amount of money paid by respective krewe members to local businesses and schools is kind of incredible. The people who ride on the floats pay anywhere from $1,000-$6,000 bucks (I think I read that in a NOLA.com article) and dues range in the thousands for the more notable krewes. The krewes use the money to build their floats, buy their throws, support local businesses (especially restaurants!), and helps build community involvement in schools by supporting bands, cheerleaders, flag girls, and other clubs that are willing to perform for a stipend.

Unlike JazzFest, there's no such thing as "Mardi Gras" grounds. The neutral ground is fair game to anyone with a tent, chair, grill, couch--whatever. The entire city turns into a giant tailgate for about a week and people do whatever it is they do to have a good time. It's the most communal experience I've ever taken part in. Everyone is having fun, children are playing and laughing, and music is everywhere.

Most of the highly inappropriate behavior is isolated to Bourbon St. and directly contributed by tourists who know nothing of the real Mardi Gras. Locals usually stay away from that area because Bourbon St. becomes even more of an embarrassment. So all the rumors of flashing for beads is mostly untrue. In fact, the worst thing you can do during Mardi Gras is public nudity or public urination (and believe me--you're tempted to do the latter if you don't know anyone living near the parade route!). Rumor has it that if you're caught doing something in that realm of unacceptable behavior, you're put in jail until Ash Wednesday. Wah-wah.

This is quickly becoming my favorite time of year and is one of many reasons why I've fallen in love with this city. No other place on earth allows this much of a celebration. I mean, the entire city shuts down. Schools are closed (I have a week off!), most businesses are closed, and everyone just hangs out together. I think part of building a strong culture and improving quality of life is having these sorts of experiences that force us to stop our daily grind and actually live where we are and celebrate who and what we have. Wherever you are, even if you can't parade with us, I hope you take some time next week to stop what you're doing and LIVE with no restrictions. It's completely invigorating--and was something I never did living in Chicago or Michigan.

I'll definitely be here for at least one more year--so if you haven't visited me yet, I'd start thinking about Mardi Gras 2012.

Throughout the week I'll post photos of the real Mardi Gras for your viewing pleasure. :)

rumi

2011-02-16T23:13:00.000-06:00

I know National Poetry Month is April, but lately I've been feeling poetic. Inspired, even. It seems as if poetry is seeking me out, calling me to write and find that balance in my daily life again. If there's anything I miss about college, it's the time I spent writing. Like I've found recently in yoga, writing offers a sense of calmness and peace in my day. It keeps me centered and balanced. I can detox my mind by allowing myself to digest thoughts on paper, and then molding those things into something beautiful.

Tonight I went to a community class at a different studio. The instructor read a few poems by Rumi at the end of practice that I can't get out of my head. So, I thought I'd post them here. They're worth sharing.

1.
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I'll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase each other
doesn't make any sense.

2.
Daylight, full of small dancing particles
and the one great turning, our souls
are dancing with you, without feet, they dance.
Can you see them when I whisper in your ear?

3.
Come to the orchard in Spring.
There is light and wine, and sweethearts
in the pomegranate flowers.

If you do not come, these do not matter.
If you do come, these do not matter.

4.
I would love to kiss you.
The price of kissing is your life.

Now my loving is running toward my life shouting,
What a bargain, let's buy it.

5.
They try to say what you are, spiritual or sexual?
They wonder about Solomon and all his wives.

In the body of the world, they say, there is a soul
and you are that.

But we have ways within each other
that will never be said by anyone.

challenge completed! and other happenings

2011-02-13T21:52:00.000-06:00

30 classes, 30 days, and now I'm super limber and strong. I'd highly encourage you to try one--you'll be surprised at how amazing you feel in such a short period of time! In fact, I feel so awesome that I'll be starting my next 30 day challenge on March 15. This coupled with 3-4 days at the gym per week should keep me on track to maintaining a decent work/life balance.

In other news, tomorrow is Valentine's Day, the most obnoxious holiday of the year. I've never been a fan of commercialized holidays, and while I appreciate the motive behind the day, I HATE that "love" is shown by the number of chocolates you receive. Beyond that, it's incredibly exclusive and it puts an unreasonable amount of pressure on people with significant others--or insignificant crushes.

Call me a cynic, but if you truly love someone, you don't need a calendar announced holiday to show your most intimate emotions. I'd much rather someone show me in little ways every day that they care, not just shower me with flowers and teddy bears and cheesy cards on February 14th. In college, some of my close friends and I celebrated an Anti-Valentine's day dinner. We'd go to Applebee's, order copious amounts of appetizers, and people watch the dates happening around us. Maybe we went together because we were all (mostly) single. I like to think we went because we went all the time anyway. We spent so much time together, laughing and joking around, that Valentine's day wasn't that big of a deal.

What's sad to me is that tomorrow, at school, I feel like I have to do something for my students otherwise they might interpret my lack of participation in the day as non-love for them. I don't want that to be the case, so I have to give little candies and cards to my babies. Hopefully they can see that my love for them extends far beyond silly little cards. And just like everything else, if there was an adjustment in attitude we wouldn't need a day to celebrate how much we care for one another.

In the spirit of love, I'm posting my favorite love poem. Or, at least I interpret it as a love poem. It gives me goosebumps when I read it. It's what I want in my life--and you can't get this in one day.

Dancing Toward Bethlehem

If there is only enough time in the final
minutes of the twentieth century for one last dance
I would like to be dancing it slowly with you,

say, in the ballroom of a seaside hotel.
My palm would press into the small of your back
as the past hundred years collapsed into a pile
of mirrors or buttons or frivolous shoes,

just as the floor of the nineteenth century gave way
and disappeared in a red cloud of brick dust.
There will be no time to order another drink
or worry about what was never said,

not with the orchestra sliding into the sea
and all our attention devoted to humming
whatever it was they were playing.

--Billy Collins

dear february,

2011-02-11T00:06:00.000-06:00

I know we've had our differences, and that last year we didn't end on good terms, but I have to say--I'm a little impressed with your attempt at making 2011 especially spectacular. Of course this doesn't mean I'll admit I'm smitten with you or anything; however, if you keep the good times coming, I might have a slight change of heart.

My only complaint is that you made the bitter cold of the north follow me into the depths of the bayou. Really? You bring me a fantastic tax refund, a great few weeks at work, excellent weekends, and a celebrity mecca at my doorstep--but the 32 degrees? You've got to be kidding me. Not trying to be high-maintenance or anything, but since you know me so well, you know I'm a firm believer in the "go big or go home" mentality. Challenge yourself a bit to make the remaining weeks even better.

If the last 14 days go swimmingly, I'll consider making peace in the years to come. So, I guess I'm saying thanks, in advance, for being especially kind this year.

respectfully,
ko

progress

2011-01-24T13:27:00.000-06:00

As of tomorrow I'll have finished 1/3 of the 30 day challenge. My friend and I are still going strong! Of course, I'm still a little sore, but not so much that I'm disinterested from continuing to go to class every day.

So far this has been an incredible experience. I knew that I've always enjoyed yoga, but now that I'm practicing every day, I'm learning how to slow down and listen to my body. I'm also learning that I'm much more capable of handling my workload and my stress when I have a daily outlet of activity. Obviously these benefits come as no surprise to anyone, including myself. What does surprise me, though, is how I've committed an hour and a half of every day this month to myself.

One of my biggest weaknesses is putting everyone and every thing before myself. There was always something that needed to be done--grading, work, a favor for someone, etc--before I made it to the gym. Some days (and by some, I mean most), I didn't even make it to the gym because I was so exhausted by the end of the day. This spiraled out of control in other ways, too. If I couldn't bring myself to the gym, I probably was too tired to make myself a decent dinner. I can't even count the number of times we ordered take-out. While not all of what we ordered was terrible for us (like Mona's Cafe--delicious hummus!), the portions were too big and, realistically, slowed me down even more. Because of the food I consumed, I wasn't able to have the energy it took to make it through the day. Absolutely disgusting.

It's terrible how easy it is to make bad decisions regarding diet. It shouldn't be that difficult to make good choices about what to eat and not to eat. Eating a balanced diet isn't complicated, but there are way too many distractions. Walking through the grocery store is kind of depressing. Beyond the produce section, it's difficult to find food that isn't overprocessed. Even more than that, the foods that are healthy for you are so expensive that someone with a tight budget and a family might not be able to afford the higest quality of food. Thankfully, I don't have the obstacle of a tight budget. I do, though, have the obstacle of refraining from being distracted from good health--which, in all honesty, is nothing more than making excuses for what I already know.

This challenge has allowed me to critically think about all of these things. It's not like I never knew them before, or that I had never thought about them, but I've made a million and one excuses to avoid doing what I need to do to be the healthiest version of myself. If this challenge does anything for me, it serves as a jumpstart to a new lifestyle, one that should have been in place from the get-go. I'm becoming more aware of how my body works, how diet impacts my daily performance, how my mental health continues to improve, and continuing to apply what I've gained from this experience to my daily life.

Beyond the given physical progress, I think the mindset shift is the most important change I've made yet.

sore.

2011-01-18T21:40:00.000-06:00

I'm day 4 into the challenge and omg, I'm so freaking sore. It's mostly my arms and hips. Surprisingly my legs are alright. Of all the places of my body to be sore, I thought my legs would get it the worst. Instead, the backs of my arms are on fire.

Yesterday was an interesting yoga class--one that I definitely wasn't ready for. My first clue should have been the Sanskrit opening, followed by a few vinyassas, and the instruction to (and I quote), "Put your hands on the floor, in line with the feet, and swing your legs over your shoulders. Then, when you feel grounded swing a little bit. Allow your hip bones to stretch. If you're feeling comfortable and want to push yourself, go ahead and lower your forehead to the floor, flat back, keeping your sitting bones balanced on the shoulders."

Um. No.

I've always thought I was flexible. How wrong was I?! There was no way in hell I was EVER going to get my legs over my shoulders. I had no idea what to do--is there a way to modify a pose like that? The answer is: not really.

Most everyone around me flung their bodies like rubber bands across the back of a classroom. Then there was me...and two other people. We sat in awe of all the weird bendy-headstand-behind the back binding activity going on around us. I did as much as I could, really pushing myself through the ab poses and perfecting my upward dog, but I was still nowhere near capable of doing every pose. At the very least, I finished the class. The other two people who were around my ability level rolled up their mats and left about half-way through.

Today was much more my style of yoga. It was a flow class that focuses on placement and breathing. It was a level 2 class (a step up from what I've been doing the past month or so--hurray progress!), and everything felt great. Except my arms. They were like noodles. At one point, I thought I was going to collapse on my face out of down dog. Again, I finished strong, only taking child's pose once to fix my ponytail.

Tonight calls for a bath to help relax my arms. Tomorrow I'll have an easier class, followed by a community class--which is always so much fun. Thursday and Friday will be a little challenging, but the weekend classes should be a lot easier--and, I'm looking forward to restorative yoga on Sunday.

Even though my muscles are a little uncomfortable, I still feel pretty damn good overall.

26 days to go!

challenge accepted

2011-01-15T18:59:00.000-06:00

After my last post I got an email from Life Yoga informing me of a 30 day yoga challenge. 30 classes in 30 days--and you cannot miss a day. The people who finish get 2 free massages, a t-shirt and water bottle, and a chance to win 3 free months of yoga classes at their studio. Seeing that I'm bored at the gym, loving yoga, and wanting to do a streak of activity, I decided to kick up my 21 day challenge to a 30 day challenge of fun yoga classes.

One of my friends from work is doing the challenge with me. We sat down after the meet and greet to plan our routine. This is good for a few reasons:

1.) I have a friend and a schedule that forces me to stay on track when things get difficult.
2.) The classes I can go to start at 6:15 so I have to leave school at a reasonable hour.
3.) We're not the only two people going through the challenge, so we're meeting new people and getting a lot of support!
4.) There are a variety of classes and instructors to help keep things interesting.

The whole point of doing this challenge is to prove to myself that exercise can fit into my daily routine, even with an incredibly busy schedule. It's possible to push myself beyond what I think I'm capable of. And, most importantly, a healthy lifestyle is manageable, not overwhelming.

Really, I think 2011 is going to continue to be a focus on my priorities. Realistically, my priorities should be my health, my family and friends, and then my job. Far too often my priorities are my job, my family and friends, and then my health. Not okay. If I can focus on making sure I'm healthy, taking care of others and being able to contribute to the world will be a lot easier.

I'll try and post as much as I can throughout the challenge to keep you updated the progress that's made!

kickin it at the gym

2011-01-13T19:57:00.000-06:00

Mi read an article that said if you do anything for 21 days in a row it becomes a habit. The past few months I've been frequenting the gym, putting a few miles in here and there on the good ol' elliptical, mostly to run down my stress levels. That being said, I've never gone to the gym for 21 days in a row. Sometimes going 3 days in a row is pushing it. And even then, my consistency of how many days I fit in to the week is sporadic at best. Or, it feels that way, anyway.

Around my birthday I decided to get more serious with going to the gym and getting myself in shape. Through this decision I learned a little bit about myself. I didn't realize how un-freaking-motivated I am to go as often as I need to to maintain a quality health plan.

Let me rephrase. It's not that I'm unmotivated to be healthy. It's just that at the end of a long, emotionally and mentally draining day, the last thing I want to do is run a few miles in a sweaty, smelly gym. When I do go, I feel awesome. I love the rush of endorphins after a good workout. And, yes, I usually sleep better. I know all of these things logically and through experience--and you think it'd be enough to get me there 4-5 days a week.

It's not. This is mainly due to:
a.) being lazy
b.) working too late
c.) getting bored

My favorite thing to do during the week is yoga. I love the Wednesday Community Class at Wild Lotus, and I wish I could do yoga more than once or twice a week. It's a little different every time, I feel relieved instead of tired, and I like the way it challenges me. I'm sure the gym can be challenging, but I'll admit it--I have no clue how to vary my routines enough to make it interesting or fun. Any suggestions?

Right now my method to make this gym thing a habit is going to be: make no excuses--just go, for the love of goodness. Maybe if I force myself to go for 21 days in a row, it'll get easier to go to the gym during the week.

Today is day 3 of the gym. We'll reconvene in 18 days to see how habitual my gym attendance becomes.

blog de plume

2011-01-11T21:43:00.000-06:00

*Warning: this post is SUPER teacher geeky*

My narrative writing unit started yesterday and, omg, why haven't I been teaching this my whole life? The theme is "Overcoming Obstacles" (just in time for testing season) and we're going to be working on a variety of stories in the upcoming weeks. I see each of my groups two days a week. On Day One, I read a story to them (or part of a story), then we do an activity called "Share the Pen". On Day Two, we have writer's workshop where the kids have a chance to write, peer edit, teacher conference, etc.

This quarter I'm beefing up my grammar and spelling instruction, as well as giving direct instruction in writing strategies. The kids, oddly enough, are pumped up about mastering 30 new spelling words. Apparently, the best spellers are the best writers. If only they knew how heavily I rely on spell check...

I digress.

Today we did our first Share the Pen--the kids did SUCH a great job! Their ideas, something they struggle with, were fantastic. It was the perfect first draft of the first narrative piece. The kids were really invested in making the story awesome, which totally inflated my expectations that their individual stories are going to be *that* much better than I originally anticipated.

Teaching writing is an incredible experience. I know my kids on such a personal level and they're willing to share so much with each other and with me. It's classes like this that show me that I'm meant to teach. It brings so much joy to my life! Plus, it's exciting to see kids transform right in front of you. Some days it's hard to know if anyone is listening to you at all, if they'll retain anything you've talked about, if they'll perform when they have to prove themselves; but then all of a sudden there are these *ah-ha* moments where everything falls into place and they surpass any and all expectations. It's an amazing thing to be a part of.

Anyway, you're probably wondering about the title of this post. In light of all the great writing, I'll be creating a classroom blog. My little writers are going to get a lesson on Internet safety and choosing "blog de plumes" for their stories. Once I get the site up and running, I'll encourage all of you to check it out--and to comment on their stories! They'll be so excited to know that so many people are reading their work!

So far 2011 has not disappointed me with work. Here's hoping it'll start bedazzling other areas of my life, too.

the birth of an odd year

2010-12-31T12:17:00.000-06:00

I have this theory that odd years are truly better than even years. In the limited history of my life, all good things that have happened to me happened in an odd year. I was born in an odd year, always graduated in odd years, moved to New Orleans in an odd year, and probably a few other things I can't remember off the cuff.

Granted, I can't complain about 2010. Nothing terrible happened this year, but nothing happened worth bragging about. All in all, things have been pretty great, but normal. I have a job, good friends, and my health. I haven't traveled as much this year (but a lot of people have come to me!) and I didn't apply to grad school like I originally thought I would a few years ago. I'm tempted to let these normalities stress me out. What more could I have done with this year to make it extraordinary instead of just ordinary?

Laura and I used to make 5 year plans all the time. We'd sit on our little couch in our Phelps dorm room and plot a variety of schedules for the rest of our college time, what we'd do after college, and how long these said plans would take to pan out. As a result, planning for college was a breeze, almost in every way effortless.

I try to do this for myself now, hoping for the same easy-breezy outcome, but it hasn't quite worked that way. Right after school I mapped out a million five year plans--plans that had me working for a variety of PR firms in downtown Chicago, or teaching English in a foreign country, or becoming a published author, graduating with a masters degree, or on the path to a PhD. When I'd try to put those things into effect, the plans kind of dissolved, like an Alka-Seltzer tablet in warm water. The past four years have taught me that the only planning that isn't wasting my time is to save money and to take advantage of every opportunity as it comes. Plan to do the unexpected.

Most people make "resolutions" that are actually goals for the new year. This time, I'm actually resolving to not plan like a crazy person this year. Instead, I want to work on changing mindsets and attitudes to help off-set future opportunity costs, no matter what those opportunities are. I need to resolve my Type-A-ness and recognize what is actually in my power to control and which things I need to let lay where they are. If I change the way I think, I can be more prepared to handle the unexpected. So, this year, I want to not stress about making decisions before they need to be made. I want to enjoy what I'm doing RIGHT NOW, in the moment. I think I'll probably get a lot more out of life this way.

And if my theory about odd years are true, 2011 is going to radically change my world for the better.

Feast of the Seven Fishes: Day Two (and a half)

2010-12-29T18:56:00.000-06:00

Christmas Eve was insane. Since I wasn't feeling 100%, we took the "half" portion of our prep time and used it the day after we did the sauce and pizza dough. We cut about a dozen lemons, defrosted about 300 shrimp, half-steamed broccoli, prepared salad, etc.

Next year, I will NOT take the half-day in the middle of all the prep work. Worst. Idea. Ever.

I got to my uncle's house around 2 on Christmas Eve. Instead of having all everything ready, but needing to put everything on warming trays or bake everything the rest of the way, we had to do most of the main dishes that day. omg.

We started with noodles. These are the noodles we've used for the past few years, but from what I'm told, my great-grandmother used to make them from scratch when she was young. I cannot even imagine the work that would go into that! Unfortunately, I don't know how to make noodles from scratch--good ones anyway--and even if I did I'm not sure I'd have the time to produce the amount we'd need to feed everyone! These noodles are beyond delicious. I'm not sure what makes them so tasty, but there's a HUGE difference from other boxed brands.

As the noodles were cooking, I began to prepare the shrimp for the shrimp & broccoli pasta. Heat up some olive oil, a little bit of butter, a ton of garlic, and the shrimp and sauté them over medium heat. Once I start this process, I can't get anyone out of the kitchen because the entire house smells SO GOOD. Once all the shrimp are cooked, I pour the entire contents of the pan onto the pasta, mix in some parmesan cheese, and add the broccoli. I think this is my favorite dish to make. It's so easy and it's awesome every single time.

Thankfully my cousin Joe made all the baked clams this year. The process of shucking and cleaning all of those clams is OUTRAGEOUS and usually takes half a day. This year I didn't have to do any of the hard work on those, but I did enjoy eating them this year. He also fried all the smelts.

While all of this goes on, someone goes to pick up the calamari and fried shrimp. We arrange the shrimp platters, get the balsamic and oil on the salad, add extra horseradish to the cocktail sauce, put out bowls of romano and parmesan cheese, and pray that the noodles aren't overcooked before the cousins get back with the calamari and shrimp. Oh, and we start making each of the pizzas so it's hot and fresh.

My cousin and I threaten every year that it's the last year we cook. On some level, it's a hassle to do all of this work when, realistically, it could be catered. But everyone's attitude changes when people come together and laugh, eat, and honor this 100 year family tradition.

I hope your holiday was as joyful and family-filled as ours! And, if you find yourself without a place to go next year, there's plenty of good food to be shared :)

commercial break:

2010-12-28T00:12:00.001-06:00

T-Mobile, please stop playing that stupid commercial with that stupid piano-clinkity-clink version of Jason Mraz's "I'm Yours". It gets stuck in my head for hours. HOURS. My family and friends would greatly appreciate your cooperation.

Thank you.

Feast of the Seven Fishes: Day One

2010-12-22T22:44:00.000-06:00

Yep, that's right. We start preparing for our Christmas Eve dinner two and a half days early. Last year we attempted to do everything in a day and a half and almost slept through Christmas because of it. This year Dina and I are doing everything right--and taking our time so we can enjoy food, wine, and the constant stream of cousins and friends wanting to sample things. And how can you blame them? My great-grandmother's recipes are beyond delicious.

The first thing we make is the sauce. Mmmmmm, sauce. It simmers for two days before we use it for anything. We usually make WAY more than we need; but thankfully, I have a lot of starving uncles who gladly freeze leftovers and ration it for the next few months.

We start with fresh garlic (yes, that entire tub is filled with peeled garlic), basil, and oregano. Even with a food processor, it takes us awhile to peel all the garlic and chop it--and then we have to chop the oregano and basil. What's pictured here is only a fraction of what we use in all of our dishes. We never use stuff from a jar for Christmas Eve. Ever.

Once all the herbs and garlic are ready, we season some neck bones with some olive oil and garlic--and a few other things. These neck bones are later put in the tomatoes to bring a rich flavor to the marinara. The meat from the neck bones are consumed the night before Christmas Eve (and therefore, are only used to flavor the sauce. Fish is the only thing eaten on Christmas Eve!). Holy delicious. It's the most tender meat you'll ever have. It literally falls off the bone. After being slow cooked for hours upon hours, you can only imagine how the blend of spices and garlic season the meat. My cousins and I fight for a neck bone on the 23rd because they're THAT good.

Next is the fun part. We use tomatoes imported from Italy to make the base of the marinara. For our family, we use about 12 cans of whole tomatoes and about double that many cans of tomato paste to make two of the biggest pots of sauce you've ever seen. Each tomato is squished by hand and the entire blend is mixed together before the neck bones are added. This is probably the most fun part of making this monstrosity. I'm sure it would taste just as good, if not better, if we bought whole tomatoes and peeled them ourselves, but with everything else we have to do and the amount of time it takes for the sauce to be ready, I don't have the patience or room in my schedule for that. Once all the tomatoes are crushed, we add some other spices and let everything simmer on medium-low heat for hours and hours and hours.

Once the sauce is on the stove, we move on to making the dough for the pizza bread. We make about 10 trays of pizza bread for the family. Believe me, it sounds like a lot, but every slice will be gone by the end of the night. Today I made all the dough, but just to make sure I could perfect everything for the big dinner, I made a few practice pizzas this afternoon.

The dough is super easy to make from scratch--much easier than you'd assume. If you're interested in this recipe, I'll share it with you. For now, I'll give the steps:

Roll out the dough and rub it down with a thin coat of olive oil.

Then, use a small amount of pizza sauce. You might assume you can use any pizza sauce, but you'd be wrong. If we're particular about what kind of tomatoes we use, you better believe we're picky about what pizza sauce to use. Go to the store and ask for Pastorelli. It's the best you'll find on this side of the Atlantic, I promise. The can looks like this:

Your pizza should now look similar to this:

Then, you use fresh grated parmesan cheese, romano cheese, and shredded mozzarella to thinly coat the sauce. Bake at 350 for about 15-20 minutes. When you take it out of the oven, sprinkle with oregano, cut into squares, and mange!

We spent the rest of the day getting all of our supplies ready for tomorrow. Chopping, grating, cleaning, and sorting the rest of our supplies. Preparing to cook takes almost as much time as it does to actually cook! I can't believe my great-grandmother did this by herself for so many years. Like, literally prepared everything and cooked everything for the majority of her life. God bless her. Seriously.

Tomorrow I'll show pictures of our shrimp and a few other things that are equally tasty and awesome.

I <3 tradition.

sweet home chicago

2010-12-21T23:02:00.000-06:00

After all the obsessive counting down to landing in Chicago, I finally made it! It's so nice to be home for the holidays at the SAME TIME as my brother. Here we are--a nice photo op for my mother who has been as anxious for this time of the year as I've been.

My mom's house is one of my favorite places on earth. Not because we've lived in the house for that long of a time (we moved here when I was in college--so for all intents and purposes, I've never actually lived here), but because everything is 100 times better at my mom's house. Her mattresses are more comfortable, her food is more delicious, her house smells like almonds and cinnamon, and it's so peaceful. The familiarity and comforts of home have helped me relax a great deal. Sometimes I don't realize how wound up I am until I'm lured into relaxation.

The fact that I've been able to calm my nerves in such a high-voltage place is pure irony. Everything here is fast paced. My brother and I went to Panera the other day and we ordered our lunch and had our order in our hands in under 7 minutes. And! I went to Starbucks and they got my drink right the FIRST time in under 5 minutes! AMAZING! People here drive the speed limit (or a little faster), people are polite (but lack the small talk), and you can find anything your heart desires. As we drove to my mom's office, my brother shared in my sentiment that we're lucky to have grown up in such a huge, wonderful city.

Not only have I relaxed, but I've been able to spend a lot of time with family. I didn't get to see my family that much the last time I was home since I was preoccupied with my friend's wedding. This trip, though, has been completely different. The first night I was in town I got to see almost all of my cousins! Joey and Dino had a company party, and since so many of our family members work for them, everyone was invited! We had such an awesome time singing cheesy Christmas carols and drinking wine by the cask.

Tomorrow starts our annual tradition of the Feast of Seven Fishes. The Feast of Seven Fishes is an Italian tradition--or at least, it used to be. In southern Italy, Catholic families wouldn't eat meat on Fridays and certain religious holidays, including Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Since most people in southern Italy were really poor, they would eat fish for the majority of the year anyway; but on Christmas, they took the time to prepare seven different fish dishes. As people relocated to America, they brought their traditions with them. I guess most people in Italy no longer honor this tradition, making it more of an Italian-American thing. And our family totally owns this awesome annual event.

For years and years my great-grandma cooked everything from scratch: the calamari, the baked clams, pizza bread, a few different kinds of shrimp, smelt, and a few other fish dishes that I can't fully remember. After she passed away, my uncles catered Christmas Eve, much to everyone's disliking. A few years ago, my cousins and I decided to revive our family tradition by taking matters into our own hands--and kitchens. Now, it's one of my favorite times of the year. Dina and I shop like crazy women and spend a few days together preparing for Christmas Eve.

Being able to carry on this tradition is my way of contributing to the family. I can't really contribute much else, and I'm alright with this. They do so much for me throughout the year and are incredibly supportive of all my crazy, outlandish dreams, the very least I can do is come home for Christmas and bring everyone together.

I'll document the process of Christmas Eve dinner in the next few days, accompanied with pictures!

12 hours and counting!

2010-12-17T19:23:00.002-06:00

I'd apologize for the obnoxious counting down until Chicago, but I'm not really that sorry. As I was giving accommodations this morning I checked into my flight, almost 24 hours on the dot from the take-off time. If this additional little tid-bit doesn't accurately highlight my homecoming excitement, I'm not sure what will. Regardless, my bags are packed and I'm ready to get out of New Orleans for a little while.

Along with baking an obscene number of Christmas cookies for my students, I've been rereading Eat Pray Love, as mentioned in one of my previous posts. When I read this book the first time I was in a completely different place in life and Gilbert's words moved me--literally. I remember crying at certain parts because, in some way, I completely, 100% understood EXACTLY how she felt. Her book got me through some tough times. It's loaded with little pockets of wisdom and intricate spiritual insight.

Now that the holidays are among us, I've been thinking a lot about my spirituality. Lately I've been fairly stagnant in my spiritual pursuit, if you will. Now that I spend so much time doing lesson plans and school related things I don't have the time I need to continue to figure things out. Maybe I don't really need to keep figuring things out--but, I can't help thinking that, again, it all comes down to balance.

In the first read of Eat Pray Love I somehow missed (or it never stuck) that her memoir was about finding balance. I think I wanted it to be about how she found her God because, in a lot of ways, I think I want that, too. Instead, she structures her entire book to be balanced. Even down to each little chapter--36 books in each of the 3 sections--adding up to 108, which is the number of beads on a japa mala. (The Hindus and Buddhists use japa malas to keep focused during meditation and to make sure their meditations are centered...or balanced.) Now as I'm reading, I'm looking at how she kept herself balanced in a time in her personal life when everything else seemed to be falling apart. Very fascinating.

Not to sound too much like Carrie, but I can't help but wonder what it takes to maintain balance. Traditionally, things are balanced in sets of 3--photos on a wall, the Trinity, even organizing children into small groups--three is always a good number. A solid bet. What if you don't have 3 things to keep your balance? Right now my job is holding me steady, but I don't have much else going on. Maybe this is why I've been more frustrated lately. Maybe it's a sign that I need to do something other than work.

Tonight, I leave you with a Christmas song we used to listen to while decorating the tree. I don't know why, but it always makes me tear up a little bit.

gift menu

2010-12-16T20:27:00.004-06:00

Today went much better than anticipated! My kids were super cute today. I think they're starting to get separation anxiety--they were all "I want to hug you and say adorable things"--which is exactly what I needed. Just when I'm starting to doubt my career choice, they do something absolutely incredible and kind to make my entire attitude change.

Tonight my roommate and I are watching White Christmas and making goody bags for students and friends. The goody bags will have:

* peanut butter kiss cookies
* chocolate chip cookies
* decorated sugar cookies
* Devil's Food Cake cookies
* homemade fudge
* candy canes

Again, this is just another way to pass the time until SATURDAY! At least I'm at about 24 hours! This break is so, so necessary. I'm friendsick and homesick like WHOA.

For now, a poem to match my mood:

Another Reason Why I Don't Keep A Gun In The House

The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
He is barking the same high, rhythmic bark
that he barks every time they leave the house.
They must switch him on on their way out.

The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
I close all the windows in the house
and put on a Beethoven symphony full blast
but I can still hear him muffled under the music,
barking, barking, barking,

and now I can see him sitting in the orchestra,
his head raised confidently as if Beethoven
had included a part for barking dog.

When the record finally ends he is still barking,
sitting there in the oboe section barking,
his eyes fixed on the conductor who is
entreating him with his baton

while the other musicians listen in respectful
silence to the famous barking dog solo,
that endless coda that first established
Beethoven as an innovative genius.

--Billy Collins

twas 10 days before christmas

2010-12-15T20:52:00.002-06:00

I might be coming down with a cold. This threat looms over me right before all extended break times, like the smog that lurks above the MIssissippi before sunrise. The children have been sick this past week due to the extreme change in weather. 75 degrees to 32 degrees is a huge range of temperature no matter where you live, but in the dirty south, people are used to a balmy December.

In the final days of school my students are partaking in a variety of holiday festivities that are supposed to bring good tidings and joy--but honestly, I want to fast-forward time and make it Saturday morning so I can have a 2 week break. How terrible is that? Today, the 5th grade girls that I teach did this totally adorable stomp routine telling the world why they're beautiful (which was completely innocent and cute!), and as soon as they were finished, I bolted for the door. I couldn't get to my car fast enough. In the time I've taught I've never felt that urge to RUN out of the building.

The past few weeks have been incredibly challenging and I'm not sure if it's because I notice all the things I need to improve on to be more effective in the classroom or if it's because everyone's exhausted. Maybe it's a combination of the two, who knows. Either way, it's definitely taking its toll on my health.

This week I've slept about 10 hours a night because I can feel a nasty, nasty ear infection coming on. Tonight I've drank so much water, consumed 2 Airborne tablets, and ate a lot of spinach and tuna in hopes of kicking this misery to the curb before it starts tearing me apart. There's no way I'm getting on a plane with an ear infection. There's also no way I'm staying in New Orleans for Christmas--so they only option is to beat the disease. So, that I'll do. Any other advice on how to combat these sort of illnesses would be much appreciated.

In other news, I'm doing every thing I can to pass the time until Saturday morning. I baked about 8 dozen cookies for students tonight. I've watched Roman Holiday, Elf, Holiday Inn, and a variety of other Christmas movies in the past 3 days to make it seem like life is moving quickly.

Anyway, with the amount of work I need to get done before Saturday morning, I should spend time completing my unit for next quarter. Or, perhaps, I should write the new protocol for behavior contracts. Or, maybe I could get my Christmas shopping done! Instead, I'll read more of Eat, Pray, Love and go to bed early.

That's what this week has become.

down in the treme

2010-12-10T15:52:00.004-06:00

So, Elise and I are walking up Frenchman Street and accidentally walked through a movie set of some kind. I asked the director what he was filming and he responded, "A Rite-Aide commercial." What a jackass.

Anyway, we thought we just traipsed through a movie set--but then! THEN! we saw this guy:

He was wearing a dirty white beater. And, he was playing guitar. Amazing, amazing Friday.

perks!

2010-12-07T20:55:00.002-06:00

Today, we took our 5th graders citrus picking! I rediscovered my love for grapefruit (do you know how amazing fresh grapefruit is? It's kind of incredible picked right off the tree) and satsumas. If you've never tried a satsuma, go immediately to your nearest grocery store and buy some. They're in season right now--omg, melt in your mouth delicious.

The kids had a great time running through the fields of citrus trees, picking their own fruit, and learning about each member of the orange family. As we roamed around, the owner of the citrus farm allowed us to cut fruit from the branches and try them right there on the spot. They learned so much and asked so many fantastic questions. Totally awesome!

There are plenty of perks to being a teacher, specifically a teacher at my school. We are able to take our kids to so many wonderful field trips and they're able to do so many things that other students in the city don't get to do. This trip, in particular, was exactly what I needed to remind me why teaching is exactly what I want to do. You just can't beat days like today. :)

it's been awhile

2010-12-02T20:34:00.003-06:00

After a long birthday weekend filled with visitors and the beginning steps of the monstrosity that is Thanksgiving dinner, we finally got clean water back in New Orleans. That only took four days. Four incredibly long days.

My friends have always joked around with me about not being the outdoorsy type. Let me just say, all the reasons I'm not in a passionate relationship with camping (and like activities) is for all the reasons I hated not having clean water. I hated feeling dirty--knowing that I couldn't bathe, brush my teeth, wash my clothes and house, cook, without getting incredibly ill drove me absolutely insane. I like modern conveniences, I'll admit it. I like being able to shower and run my dishwasher. I hate having to boil water to wash dishes and my hair. The same goes for electricity (which we also lost for a short while)--if I can't blow dry my hair, forget it. If I can't plug in my computer or cell phone to stay connected, I'm not going.

Call me crazy, or spoiled, or whatever. The reality is that I'm, in every way, a city girl. I dislike yardwork, I don't mind walking to the grocery store, I desperately need to live somewhere that's relatively fast-paced, packed with culture, and to be surrounded by people. It's who I am right now. Perhaps as I get older, or when I have a family, I'd be more willing to settle in somewhere on the outskirts of a city--but I can promise you I'll never live in the country. And at this point, I think the suburbs would suffocate me.

I turned 25 last month. It was less monumental than I always thought it would be. As a kid, I imagined what my life would be at the ripe old age of 25, and quite honestly, I didn't think this was it. I thought at 25 I would be:

* married
* settled
* own a dog
* have an MA
* living in downtown Chicago
* completed and published my own book
* traveled to Australia

I remember writing this essay in middle school carefully spelling out the timeline of my life. I still have the poster that mapped out my life, with pictures and other symbolic things that coined various upcoming milestones. Those were the things I thought would happen--and that were supposed to happen--to successful people in their mid-twenties. Obviously as I got older, this image changed. I made the following amendments:

* married to boyfriend (still pending)
* settled to nomad (success, for now)
* own a dog...this never really changed, but I'm more practical now knowing I don't have time to care of an animal
* have an MA (still a goal, but not even attempted yet)
* living in downtown Chicago (been there, done that. I miss it.)
* completed and published my own book to write my own book of poetry (which I have, but it's not published.)
* traveled to Australia to studying in Austria (Australia is still on my list)

Overall, I'm very happy. I always thought I'd end up teaching, even though my current situation isn't exactly what I pictured. I'm still planning on staying for a third year, in spite of the unexpected obstacles--I do love my job and my students.

I think my goal this year is to maintain my personal happiness and improve my physical health. I've never quite gotten the hang of balancing my personal life and professional life--not in college, and definitely not since I've graduated. It's something I want to get better at before I decide I want to be in a relationship and have a family (but don't worry, I have plenty of time before those things happen!).

I wonder how much more will change before my *gasp* 30th. I probably won't think about it too much, or my personal goal goes down the tubes in the first month of my new year.

someone's poisoned the waterhole!

2010-11-20T19:58:00.003-06:00

The only thing on my mind the past two weeks has been Thanksgiving break. I've had a countdown to this mini-interlude--a time when I could relax, sleep, clean my house, visit family, celebrate with friends, and generally whatever I wanted.

When I got home last night the water pressure in the house dropped so low that we only had a trickle coming from the faucet. The next morning the entire East Bank was on a "water boil advisory". Not only can I not drink the tap water, but I'm advised to boil water to bathe, do dishes, laundry, etc. No one is sure when we'll have fresh water again. This isn't exactly how I envisioned the start of a fantastic, relaxing break. Ugh.

Sometimes I feel like I live in a third-world city.

family festivus

2010-11-16T21:32:00.003-06:00

I spent my weekend in Buffalo, New York celebrating family birthdays. I've always thought it was kind of awesome that my mom, brother, and I share a birthday month. Every November is something to look forward to. Each year the three of us gather for some sort of celebration, be it gelato from our favorite Italian restaurant, a movie night, a vacation--it doesn't really matter, as long as we're together.

Since my brother can't come to New Orleans for Thanksgiving, my mom and I journeyed to Buffalo to celebrate our respective birthdays with him. We stayed at his apartment (which is in a super awesome part of Buffalo, close to Buffalo State), went to his hockey game, and met all of his new friends. This is the first time he's lived on his own away from home (not counting the hockey families he lived with while playing juniors). Even though he's lived "away" from home before, this time it seems more legit. I mean, the kid lives in a city alone! And, in true boy fashion, has a Blackhawks flag push-pinned to his living room wall. So totally my brother.

I know he's 21 now and that he's hardly a child, but sometimes I forget just how independent and, well, grown he is. This all hit me this weekend, sitting at the bar drinking a beer with him and his hockey buddy: suddenly, he's my equal--doing the college thing, working, playing hockey, following his dreams. We talked about the challenges of living an adult life, unexpected expenses, time consuming chores, and having unlimited freedom. It was so nice to spend so much time with him and to witness how truly incredible he has become as an adult.

Anthony's always been an inspiration to me because he's not afraid to live unconventionally and to do things his way. This weekend proved just how thoughtful and intelligent he is. When I think about how different we are, I'm often jealous that he can be so careful and carefree, all at the same time. He seems to have struck a balance I'm still trying to figure out. Since we've both moved out of the house, when we get together like we did this weekend, I can't help but admire the person he's becoming. He challenges me and I stand to learn a lot from him. I'm so thankful that we've grown up to be so close.

In other news, my mother and grandfather are coming to New Orleans for Thanksgiving this year. I can't wait to show them everything! My mom has visited before, but my pops has yet to see my life here. For the longest time he was convinced I'd hate the South and move home before my first year was over. But, seeing that it's halfway through year two, I think he's come to terms with the fact I'll be staying here for a while. It'll be nice to spend time with him, too. My grandpa and I have always been really close, so it means a lot to me that he approves of my life here. I think it'll be a great trip :)

I'm thankful that November is happening right now. Just when school started to wear me out, my family comes around and gives me the support I need to keep going. Spending time with them really keeps me centered. One of my favorite quotes from Hundertwasser is "If you do not honor your past, you have no future. if you destroy your roots, you cannot grow." I'm sure it can be applicable to several different scenarios, but it fits how I value the relationships I have with my family. Knowing they're around to offer support, love, encouragement, commraderie, and acceptance is all I need to finish strong.

Let the countdown to Christmas begin!

per your request

2010-11-02T22:59:00.002-05:00

I've been asked recently why I don't post more about my day-to-day experience as a teacher in New Orleans. My answer to this is three-fold:

1.) I've signed a contract with Americorps stating that while I was a part of the corps I would limit my discussion of intimate details about who I'm working with and the system I'm working within.

2.) I respect the school I work for, the people who work hard along side of me to make our school great every day, and the children I teach.

3.) My perspective is limited. While I have some interesting stories to tell, I'll save them for later--like, when I write a book after I'm far removed from my current situation. For now, the risk is too great to compromise something I care so deeply about.

So, am I censoring myself? I suppose you could see it that way; but I maintain that I love my school, kids, and community too much to say something that might be misinterpreted in a less than positive way.

And, if that's not enough--sometimes I need a break from thinking about middle school and all that it entails.

the 90s were awesome

2010-10-31T19:53:00.003-05:00

In preparation for the upcoming premier of Skating with the Stars, I've been wanting to watch two of my favorite movies of all time: The Mighty Ducks and The Cutting Edge. Both were filmed in 1992.

I started looking at other movies filmed in 1992 and came up with the following list of awesome movies:

* A League of Their Own
* Aladdin
* Wayne's World
* Batman Returns
* My Cousin Vinny
* Newsies
* Sister Act
* Encino Man
* FernGully: The Last Rainforest
* The Muppet Christmas Carol

There were a few others I was hoping would fall in the 1992 category, but alas--they were a year or two off. I was thinking of these movies in particular:

* Jurassic Park
* Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead
* Edward Scissorhands
* Drop Dead Fred

I'm sensing an early 90s movie marathon in my immediate future.

highlights

2010-10-27T21:04:00.005-05:00

Here are three reasons why I love what I do:

1.) There's a particular 5th grader who routinely gets picked on. He's smaller than the other kids; quiet, nerdy, a little quirky. Of course, kids like that have a special place in my heart because I think, in some respects, I was that kid in school. Anyway, he got himself really worked up about some of the comments the other kids were making, so I took him outside in the hallway to talk about it. We did a little problem solving together and came to the conclusion that if he had a way to tell the teacher that the other kids were picking on him without anyone else knowing his life would be easier.

I gave him a bunch of post-it notes to keep in a binder. I told him to write on the sticky side of the note so he could fold it in half without anyone else being able to read what was inside. To make the directions explicitly clear, I demonstrated what I wanted him to do by writing "You are AWESOME! :) " on the sticky side of the post-it. He accepted the note, went back in the classroom and sat down.

Later that day, after the crazy that was my writing class, I had almost forgotten about our little deal. I was about to run down the hallway to a meeting when I hear this little voice squeak my name. I turned around and there was that student, holding a post-it note, just like I instructed him to do. At first, my heart dropped because I was worried someone else was giving him a hard time. But he handed me the note and walked away. When I opened it, the note said, "You are awesome, too."

OMG. Cutest. Kid. EVER.

2.) There's a group of 8th grade boys who are a little behind in math class. I'm lucky enough to pull groups together in the back of the classroom and go over any material that might be confusing, answer any lingering questions, and get the kids to do practice, practice, practice. These boys in particular are a fun bunch of kids. Maybe they're a little rough around the edges, but they're so excited about learning! So, yesterday, this group saw me walk into the room and immediately went to the back of the room to our meeting place. They waited so patiently for me to walk back there--they got out all of my supplies, had all of their work with them, ready to ask questions. They told me today that they wanted class to go by quickly, so they wanted me to teach them because I make things fun (even though, we just mostly do practice problems). They also decided that they wanted me to call their group "The Einsteins" because they totally rocked their last quiz. Their enthusiasm literally brightened my week--here we have this group of 8th grade, cool kid, boys PUMPED UP because they can solve 2-step equations. It's a good cycle to be in. :)

3.) Tonight was report card night at school. It's so awesome to finally be a part of a community--parents came up to me and HUGGED me, like I was a long lost friend! It was awesome to have open and honest conversations about what's going on with their particular student. It's the part of this job that lets me know just how much of an impact all of my work has.

It's weeks like this that put all of the day-to-day grind into perspective. Hands down, I'm in love with what I do. And I can't imagine leaving to do anything else. :)

i wish i could read every book in the world

2010-10-21T21:33:00.002-05:00

Darcy showed me this video last year and my students LOVED it. Let's bring this back to the middle school.

countdown

2010-10-17T15:42:00.003-05:00

There are...

35 days until my birthday
37 days until my grandpa and mom are in New Orleans!
39 days until Thanksgiving
55 days until ELISE is in New Orleans!
62 days until Winter Break/CHICAGO!!!!!
69 days until Christmas
98 teaching days until the LEAP test
136 school days until summer vacation

This year's going by quickly!

red october

2010-10-13T12:10:00.002-05:00

When you're in the process of becoming a teacher, you learn about a little something called Red October. October is the never ending month when kids slip into a comfort zone and the demon in them shines. I swear, their eyes turn red, they become stir-crazy, and the light at the end of the tunnel feels SO FAR AWAY.

October is the only month in which we do not have any sort of break--no long weekends, no mid-week holidays, no reason whatsoever to have a day to catch your breath.

My mother just sent me chain mail that informed me that this October has 5 Fridays, 5 Saturdays, and 5 Sundays. Apparently this only happens once in 823 years and we're lucky enough to experience it this century! This phenomenon supposedly brings good fortune.

All I know is that it's only Wednesday and it's been the week from somewhere dark and twisty. If this trend keeps up, I'll be asking for hair dye and a cane on my upcoming birthday.

jacques cousteau!

2010-10-10T18:50:00.004-05:00

In my limited study of French, I learned enough to understand why this clip is hilarious.

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godbaby

2010-10-09T13:33:00.004-05:00

This little girl brings so much joy to so many people:

She's truly a chick-a-dee after my own heart--competitive, loves to read, obsessed with shoes, and has an infectious smile. My only regret is not being able to eat up those chubby cheeeks! Isn't she the absolute cutest?! I'm so proud of her, what she's learned, and who she is quickly becoming. I can't believe she's over a year old already.

Even more than that, I'm so proud of her mommy, one of my closest friends. I've watched Megan's life do a complete 180, largely because of this tiny little girl. Their family gives me hope and renews my belief that change is, in fact, a good thing.

Thanks for being lights in my life. :)

exhibit a

2010-10-03T18:15:00.003-05:00

The longer my to-do list, the more I'm distracted by silly, frivolous time wasters! Facebook, bad music, Google Chat, free cell, and dancing are my vices of choice. I know I need to sit still and get things done, but all I can do is fidget and squirm around my house. What is wrong with me?!

shameless plug

2010-10-02T11:29:00.002-05:00

I emailed some of you, but I just in case I forgot:

Educate Now! is giving away $3,000 to three different New Orleans public schools. Our school could really benefit from that cash. Click here to fill out a quick form. Feel free to use my email address (kristi.orange@gmail.com) if you don't want to put your own. I'd really appreciate the support! Thanks!

hams

2010-10-02T10:47:00.003-05:00

Part of my relaxing week off included ample time at the gym. Lately I've been on a health kick, going to the gym regularly. Not only does this relieve stress, but it just feels good. I like crawling into bed at the end of the day when I'm physically tired--not just emotionally and mentally exhausted.

Continuing my health binge, on Wednesday I went to Wild Lotus, a quaint yoga studio uptown. They host a free community class once a week. I figured since I've spent so much time with the elliptical, a little stretching and centering could go a long way.

The class itself was awesome. It was great to see so many people from the neighborhood milling about the studio, pushing themselves to try new things. You can tell that not everyone at the class is a yoga expert, but all guests were respectful of the space and of other people's practice. The founder of the studio led the class, a delightful surprise, focusing mostly on inversions (upside down poses) and stretching and massaging the spine. By the end of class I felt limber and renewed.

Admittedly, I skipped the gym Thursday and Friday. My muscles were a little sore, so I thought it might be wise to give myself time to heal.

However, today is Saturday. In the past two days, my legs have become SO INCREDIBLY SORE. Instead of getting better, the pain has gotten worse--but only in my hamstrings. SO WEIRD. The rest of my body feels great and is ready to get back to business, but I don't know if I have it in me to use the elliptical today. What I really need is ample time to stretch--but seriously. Bending half way over (and that's being generous) is enough to make my eyes water because it hurts so terribly. It hurts to sit in chairs because of where the seat hits my thighs. That's not normal, is it?

At first I thought I pulled my muscles, but I realize that they hurt most when I bend over. Like, to get something off the bottom shelf of the pantry, or picking up throw-pillows from the floor when making my bed. This happens every time I go to yoga. I feel fantastic and wonderful, but then two days later my legs go through this excruciating cycle. I busted out the Icy/Hot, the heating pad, I've taken baths--nothing seems to help. This time is worse than anytime from this past spring. The strange thing is that we didn't really focus on the legs that much, so I have no idea why my legs are the only part of my body that I'd be happy to cut off right now.

Ironically, someone misread one of my recent tweets to say "I feel like a little grandpa after yoga"--maybe there's more truth to that misread than anyone would have thought.

here's your dirt, grant harris

2010-09-29T19:04:00.002-05:00

I could have just as easily posted this on your facebook, but what fun would that be?

another interesting tid-bit

2010-09-29T00:31:00.004-05:00

Four years at Hope College left me frustrated with faith and religion. This frustration didn't manifest solely because I hadn't decided which faith I wanted to follow, but because some campus groups were cemented against the notion that their way might not be the "only way" or the "right way". Additionally, these groups combated the idea that there might not be a God, or that God isn't who we think he/she is; and, anyone who probed outside the box was declared ignorant and flirting with evil.

Bless their souls.

These arguments used to (continue to?) drive me absolutely insane. I'd come home from class infuriated at the absurdity of these claims. I thought maybe I stood alone in my ideology* (and by alone, I mean with a few close friends); but now there's data to back up my years of study. Yay!

The Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life just released a new survey: U.S. Religious Landscape Survey: Religious Beliefs and Practices: Diverse and Politically Relevant The data was collected in 2008 and the survey was recently released. NPR did a brief summary of the survey in today's news. Super fascinating stuff. If you have the time, you should read it for yourself. If anything, it's convicting in the sense that there's always something new to learn.

To read the NPR article, click here.

To review the survey in its entirety (you know you want to!), click here.

*To clarify--I'm purposely abstaining from interjecting my own beliefs here; however, I want to point out that, like many other things in life, I'm not sure anyone can be 100% in the know AND I believe a variety of factors impact one's religious affiliation/professed faith.

pumpkin patch

2010-09-28T22:20:00.005-05:00

One of my favorite memories as a kid was going to the pumpkin patch with my parents. We'd pile into the tan Astrovan and putter up the street to Siegel's, hyped for apple cider and haystack rides. Once on the road, my dad would calmly remind us of the golden pumpkin patch rule: we could have any pumpkin we wanted--but we had to be able to lift it all the way up to our shoulders. I only mildly cared about having a giant pumpkin. My brother, on the other hand, wanted the Beast of Pumpkin Kind. It's the sort of competition I've never cared about; but Anthony always had to be number one NO. MATTER. WHAT. In any competition. At 21, he's the exact same way.

The first few trips we took to Siegel's, we each chose pumpkins that were relatively normal in size, mostly round in shape, with at least one smooth surface in which we'd carve a lop-sided, buck-toothed Halloween face. Then, in true Midwestern fashion, we'd pose next to our goofy creations with equally toothy grins, bundled in a scarf and windbreaker on the front porch. My mom has a collection of all of these pictures and usually displays them around the house when she decorates for fall (and yes, fall is a decorative theme in my mother's home. I love it, even though it's a continual reminder of my geeky, youthful, self).

Anyway, I digress.

The best year at the pumpkin patch was the year my brother found the most enormous pumpkin I've ever seen to date. I swear, this thing had to weigh 150 lbs--it was HUGE. Seeing that he's been in training for the NHL since he could walk, he's always been above the bell curve in fitness. My parents laughed when they saw him tear through the field directly to this particular gourd, unwilling to accept the possibility that he'd actually be able to lift the thing off the ground. He was only in 2nd grade, after all.

Well, they were wrong.

My brother had this face--the mean face--and we'd grunt at him to show this particular face like it was a testament to his strength. So, as he approached the pumpkin, he made the meanest face he's ever made, wrapped his arms around it's middle, and HOLY SHIT! The pumpkin was above his shoulders. He laughed in delight, knowing that when my dad promised something for reaching a goal, he'd follow though.

I thought my mother was going to have a heart attack. "How are we going to get this home, Jamie? We can't actually buy this pumpkin! They charge by the pound!" As my parents quietly bickered, my brother danced around singing "I have the biggest pumpkin in the world!" It wasn't far from the truth.

He celebrated the entire way back to the Astrovan, pumpkin in tow.

It's memories like these that keep me connected to fall and maintain an indefinite love for the Midwest.

does this mean i'm an adult?

2010-09-27T07:40:00.003-05:00

The curse of having a vacation from work is that I never know what to do with myself. Usually I look up the cheapest flight I can find to visit a friend in a place I've never been--but funds are a little tight and with Thanksgiving and Christmas coming up, I need to be more cautious about how much I spend on frivolous airfare.

So, instead of going on a random trip, I decided to stick around New Orleans and do all the things I claim to never have time for: a variety of doctors appointments, hair cut, outlet mall in Baton Rouge (maybe), continue my trend of going to the gym. I think it's a better use of my time and money. And I actually will feel rested instead of needing a vacation from my vacation.

daily devotion

2010-09-21T18:11:00.004-05:00

This week has, by far, been the most stressful week I've had as a teacher. Like, worse than LEAP testing (and if you know me well enough, you'll know that was pretty horrendous).

Anyway, I'm not going to bore you with details of things that twist my stomach into knots. When I'm avoiding the very thought of those things, I read poetry. Poetry is my religion, my saving grace. It fills me up and makes me whole. Even though I don't write as much of it these days, it never fails to encourage and renew.

This is what I read today:

On Turning Ten

The whole idea of it makes me feel
like I'm coming down with something,
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.

You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
the perfect simplicity of being one
and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.
But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.
At four I was an Arabian wizard.
I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.

But now I am mostly at the window
watching the late afternoon light.
Back then it never fell so solemnly
against the side of my tree house,
and my bicycle never leaned against the garage
as it does today,
all the dark blue speed drained out of it.

This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,
as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.
It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,
time to turn the first big number.

It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.
--Billy Collins

In my crazed schedule, I forget that the simplicity of youth is overwhelmingly powerful. We encourage children to "grow up" and "get it together". How hypocritical. How can I beast on children about "getting it together" when I come home to a personal disaster? My own life isn't where I want it to be. How can I continue to preach what I practice only 80% of the time?

Kids have this uncanny ability to find the pure truth in almost every situation. They read people so well! While adults claim their reactions are "immature", I still find that once children age past 10, they act just like we do. If we want their behavior to change, we, too, must change. And, if we're being honest, we stand to learn a lot from children. Point being: the real tragedy is that we have forgotten how to be fulfilled by simplicity. We no longer imagine or create. We're saltines--stale and a little sour.

Maybe revisiting this poem more often will help to keep my stress in-check. Maybe instead of bleeding, I'll shine.

Dear NOLA,

2010-09-19T07:56:00.004-05:00

It's nearing the end of September and you're insisting we keep the heat dialed up to 93 degrees. I understand the whole eternal summer mentality y'all have around here. But 93 degrees? You're killing me, NOLA. So is my electric bill.

Let me explain something to you. If you'd like to keep us Chicago people around (and there are plenty of us), you must consider delivering a little good ol' Midwestern fall weather. My mother just called to tell me she's brought out her fall wardrobe of sweaters and scarves and boots. She says the high in Chicago is 65 degrees today. That's just cold enough to convince the leaves to start changing colors. That's the way it's supposed to be! When school starts, fall starts. New school supplies means new temperatures. The humidity exits stage left, people plan for bonfires and apple cider--life kicks it into high gear.

Maybe that's part of the problems you have here, NOLA. The summer heat you impose on us makes everyone lazy, overheating into a puddles of sweat that settle onto seats of lawn chairs. People need a breath of fresh, crisp air to feel alive again. It's like a renewal of faith, a cleansing of spirit, a desired change. You can believe what you will about my cravings for autumn; however, in my defense, I don't know anyone from here that enjoys excessive temperatures or humidity. I challenge you to find someone who does. Then, let me talk the crazy out of them.

New Orleans, I could live here forever if you changed your ways, just a little bit. But since I don't see that happening anytime soon, my days will be numbered. And, your'e right. I'll probably change my mind in December when you've fended off the million inches of snow (that I refuse to live in again), but for now--you're on my list. And that's never a good place to be.

it's the little things

2010-09-12T22:36:00.003-05:00

here are a few things that literally made my weekend--and have me in high-spirits for the upcoming week!

--fresh sheets
--clean bathroom
--homemade pizza
--itunes genius mix
--new lipgloss
--3 o'clock naps
--firefly vodka
--billy collins poetry

sometimes it's the seemingly insignificant things that make all the difference.

for better, for worse.

2010-07-26T20:35:00.005-05:00

My entire life I've been mildly afraid of commitment. While I have good reason for my phobia of serious relationships, it still kind of surprises me when people my age readily get married, settle down, and have children.

A lot of my friends have gotten married recently. I've even been in some of their weddings--and I totally support their relationships; but even in my support, I can't imagine taking that sort of plunge myself.

I was talking to Catherine today about how one of my old high school crushes is getting married this weekend. His fiance is nice; through the years she's grown on our old group of friends. Her love for him is incredibly obvious and it has been for some time. I know very little about their relationship, but when presented with an incredibly challenging life obstacle, she stepped up to the plate and handled the situation with grace, poise, and unwavering strength. I'm betting it's those qualities alone that cemented their relationship into something that will last forever. I'm very happy for them and have confidence that it'll be a fulfilling marriage, which isn't a confidence I have with every married couple.

Every wedding I've been in, I've agreed to stand because I believe whole-heartedly that the couple was making a wise decision. I don't think I could agree to investing so much into something that I thought would whither away within a few years. But when I think about what makes these couples so great, I have a really hard time figuring out how that will fit into my own life.

Perhaps I have a jaded view of marriage because of what happened to my parents. I never saw them happy together, even when things seemed to be going relatively well. I witnessed a lot of what happens behind closed doors--the arguing, the monumental disagreements, the emotional abuse, the endless tears. Granted there were some extreme circumstances with my parents, but I can't help but think: life is extreme for everyone in some capacity. How do people get through these conditions?

I'm sure at one point my parents were incredibly happy together. I wish I knew more of what their relationship was like before they got married because I'm curious as to when there was a sudden shift when they realized that they hardly knew one another. What happened to make them turn against one another? When did they stop trying to make things work for the better? At what point did it become "keeping my head above water" instead of "happily ever after"? Their wedding pictures hardly give the impression that they were in for a miserable marriage (not that anyone really anticipates this), but it's very perplexing to me that there was a point in time when whatever it was that inspired them to get married in the first place took a nosedive into misery.

Obviously my parents aren't the only divorced people in the world. Divorce rates are through the roof and have been for many years. It kind of blows my mind. I've watched my friends' relationships grow and flourish. I've watched them plan the intricate details of their ceremonies and receptions. I've witnessed the exchange of eternal vows--what does it take to get things to go south so quickly?

My friends are giving me hope that it's possible to have a healthy relationship. Without their example, I'd have some pretty serious doubts (even more so than I do right now). And they keep telling me that I'll "find someone to make me happy" or whatever. The thing is, I think I've built relationships with some pretty incredible guys, but when things start developing into something that could be potentially a good relationship, I FREAK OUT. I immediately think of all the things that I put at stake and all of the things that could go wrong--which is ultimately why I back away hastily. What does it take to completely let go of that fear and be willing to take a risk?

I think it's remarkable that I'd be willing to move across the country for work or personal fulfillment. I'm willing to take risks by writing some of my innermost thoughts and publish them on the internet. I'm not a shy person or one to withhold my opinions. But heaven forbid I open myself up to a real relationship. How completely dysfunctional.

i swear--this is it.

2010-07-17T16:06:00.006-05:00

Well, I moved. Again. I think this is the 10th move in the past 10 years? I know the process is invigorating for some; you know, a fresh start, clean slate, a rejuvenation of spirits, blah blah blah. After you've moved 10 times, come talk to me and tell me how you feel about things then. I can promise you--the novelty wears off.

To be fair, the majority of my moving is directly related to my college days. In fact, in the four years I studied at Hope, I moved a total of 5 times. Two dorms, and three houses. Each time has presented numerous challenges that somehow rear their heads time and time again. You'd think that after moving as much as I have the past decade I'd have a handle on things. You'd think I'd learn to anticipate the worst and plan accordingly. Yet, with each new address comes at least one disaster. It's true!

Let's take a gander to my first big move: from mom's house to Dykstra Hall. The day before the move I set all of my brand new, brightly colored dorm supplies in the middle of my mother's living room. I insisted we could pack the family Tahoe with all of my goods, but my parents countered my pleading with a confirmation number for a U-Haul trailer. At the age of 17, this infuriated me. Honestly--can you imagine the humiliation?! My parents thought I needed a UHAUL to move into a DORM ROOM. I kept imagining the entire campus pointing and laughing as we got lost in the four streets of downtown Holland.

Much to my dismay (and many hours of arguing), my parents got their way. As I sat in the living room surrounded by all of my stuff, I heard the dreaded "BEEEEEP, BEEEEEEP, BEEEEEEEP", as if a semi-truck (or motorized shopping cart) was backing into our driveway on Faxton Lane. Oh my God. This isn't happening!!!! Oh, but it was--my dad ordered the wrong trailer--my own personal hearse: a solid 17-foot trailer to hitch to the back of a Hummer. I cried for hours and told them (begged them) I'd pay for someone else to move me, but to no avail. I was said to be overreacting.

The next morning we drove around Lake Michigan, 17-feet of embarrassment following close behind. And just as I feared, the entire campus (or at the very least, the varsity football team), pointed and laughed at the ridiculous U-Haul my parents pushed for. Things didn't get any better when my new roommate, Laura, laughed as we unpacked our socks and said, "did you see that giant U-Haul outside? I feel bad for that girl's roommate. What the hell are they going to do with all that stuff?! Who packs that much for a dorm room?!"

Fast-forward a few years to my move from my Chicago apartment back to my mother's house, a little over a year ago. Our landlord was a crazy bitch, if I do say so myself. An old, senile, busy-body who kept her nose buried deep into Unit 3's social life. If we had more than 3 visitors at a time, she made a point to come upstairs and remind us that Chicago fire code called for a maximum of 10 people in the apartment at a time--which meant we could only have 7 people because 3 people lived in the unit! The funny thing was, when we told her in March that we were moving out at the end of May, she sobbed uncontrollably. Not because she particularly cared for us, but because we were the third group of people she drove out of the building.

From March forward she did not make our lives pleasant. Every time we saw her it was a dirty look, a reminder of our disloyalty. When move out day finally came, we asked her to do a final walk through with us to make sure we'd get our entire security deposit back. OMG. I'm so glad we did this! Apparently what we considered "reasonable wear and tear" (per, our lease) was, in her eyes, intense wall damage. We hung a few pictures (maybe 5 or 6?) and mounted our television--and we patched all of those nail holes. She acted like we had to replace all the drywall in every bedroom because *GASP* the ENTIRE APARTMENT! needed to be repainted.

Let me be clear: Chicago ordinance calls for a landlord to repaint the walls of an apartment when their tenants move out of a building.

So, the entire apartment is emptied and sparkling clean, and this bitch is all, "I'm withholding your entire deposit unless you repaint the walls." Oh, no she didn't! I called my roommates at the time, who in turn called all of our friends, so we could quick repaint everything to avoid any legal confrontation. I'd like to say we did this quickly, professionally, and in good spirits--but truthfully, we were cranky, cranky, CRANKY.

Looking back, it was quite comical. We were able to finish everything in under 3 hours and we only spent 20 bucks, which isn't too terrible. But, due to this experience, I promised myself that I'd never rent from a private landlord EVER AGAIN.

Now, I'm entering my second year in New Orleans and both homes I've rented are being rented from private owners. My cute little house with the white picket fence was put up for sale, so my plan of living in the same place for two consecutive years was completely shot. As disappointing and frustrating as that reality was, I quickly got over it when we found this place:

We moved in this past week and it went relatively well, save the box-spring fiasco. Nothing too treacherous, though (but now that I post this, I might jinx our good fortune). We're still in need of couches and a dining room table, but other than that, I think we're in pretty good shape. We're a block away from the parade routes and really close to all other amazing things--so, if you weren't inclined to visit before, you might want to reconsider.

Now that we've found the perfect house, at the perfect price, in the perfect location, I'm officially tied down to New Orleans for at least two more years. Lord, help me.

coffee culture

2010-07-06T12:51:00.004-05:00

In the many places I've traveled, I've made it a point to spend quality time in local coffee shops. Like shoes, the coffee shop you choose to spend your time in says a lot about you. This is why I'm reluctant to claim any particular shop my own, as I'm not quite sure I want to be identified with any particular crowd yet--especially here in New Orleans.

It's true--I'm partial to Starbucks coffee, but I'm a classic case of run-in-and-out kind of customer. I like what I like, when I like it. This doesn't always lead to a nice conversation and lengthy visit. Honestly, I love Starbucks purely because it's quality coffee and I can (usually) be served in under 2 minutes. This was particularly convenient living in Chicago. There's a Starbucks on every other corner. You go in through a revolving door, your order spewing out of your mouth, and in seconds, you're holding a drink and exiting as quickly as you entered. And, most stores in Chicago promise, if you didn't get served in 5 minutes or less during rush hour you got your drink for free. Awesome. Because of this, Starbucks is my go-to java of choice. Can't beat 'em.

When I'm not in a huge hurry, I don't mind meandering in other coffeehouses, like I'm visiting an old cousin, twice removed. It's nice to catch up and get a quick glimpse into another life, something you're related to, but not overwhelmed by. In New York, I enjoyed a caramel latte in a Dean & Deluca--quite possibly one of the best drinks I've had to date. Dean & Deluca was a half-grocery store, half-pretentious gourmet barista bar. Quick service and everything was perfect, down to the berries placed on the seasonal flan and custard tarts. Truly incredible. The entire store was done in clean lines, black and white. All color was beautifully coordinated and presented by means of produce and desserts. They must hire someone to arrange everything in the most artistic way possible. Everything was orderly and delicious. This is definitely not a place to kick up your feet and gossip about your drug-addicted aunt, or other family gossip. Dean & Deluca made Starbucks look like a trampy whore--the kind that wears fishnets to the annual Christmas Eve dinner. Truthfully, I relate more to the tramp (though, I'm not courageous enough to sport slutty tights), so as much as I loved Dean & Deluca, I knew it wasn't a place I could spend a lot of time.

In Vienna I spent the majority of my coffeehouse perusing in a variety of Julius Meinl locations. My favorite location was the one up the street from our flat. It had the most incredible patio seating, right on the corner of Josefstadterstrasse, off the J line. Similar to Dean & Deluca, there were fancy deserts--but instead of having clean, modern decor, it was totally an aristocratic, old-fashioned, fancy-pants sort of place. They use a lot of rich colors (mostly deep crimson and gold, if I remember correctly). It was like opening a history book and having tea with royalty. I didn't mind this fancy as much as I did in New York, if only to feel more connected to a completely foreign culture. The coffee was divine, and if you asked nicely, in the worst German ever, the wait staff would humor you by making a leaf or flower pattern using cream in your dark-roast blend. Totally cool. Everything I ever had there was incredible. So when they opened TWO locations in Chicago (the only US locations), Lara and I found ourselves there on a regular basis. This is the closest I've come to coffeehouse affiliation in the duration of my 25 years of life.

Here in New Orleans, people thrive on coffeehouse culture more than any other place I've been. Nothing surprises me more. It's ridiculous hot here and I've definitely had better coffee--though I wouldn't verbally admit this anywhere within a 30 mile radius of this city. Starbucks doesn't have a huge presence here, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. One of the things I've grown to love about New Orleans is its ability to have successful local businesses thrive in a depressed economy. I can only think of two Starbucks locations in the city--which is telling of people's loyalty to their local entrepreneurs. The big-wigs of coffee in NOLA are Community Coffeehouse (CC's) and PJ's Coffeehouse. This was a bit of knowledge I could have benefitted from when I decided to move here.

Over a year ago now, after a long day of driving across the country, I spent the night at the le Pavillon, a far too decadent hotel for my tastes, but I appreciated the hospitality. The next morning I wandered around Canal St. looking for a place to settle in and respond to emails, thinking, if anything, I could duck into a local Starbucks and feel right at home. Not so. Because there aren't any. I eventually found a PJ's coffee shop (perhaps on St. Charles--hard to remember at this point), and ordered an iced coffee (since it was 150 degrees and humid outside).

Now's a good time to take a moment to remind you of where I am: THE DEEP SOUTH. True, New Orleans isn't the real south, but there are some common throughlines in the Confederate states, let's be honest.

So, iced coffee. A million degrees and humidity outdoors. Right. I waited 10 minutes for that drink. There were 3 people in the coffeeshop. THREE. PEOPLE. I thought maybe my head was going to explode.

Many of my friends like to credit me for having saint-like patience. And, given the profession I've chosen, I have to exhibit this in some way, otherwise I'd never survive. Waiting for coffee...not a time when I demonstrate utmost patience or, to put it in toddler terms, waiting my turn. There I stood in a PJ's tapping my foot, checking my phone for the time, breathing louder than normal--all the while, the barista chatted with a local about the upcoming Tomato Festival. OH MY GOD. Really? Seriously? Just when I thought my head was going to explode, she turned to me and asked, in the most polite way ever, for my order.

I tried to hide my angst for having to wait for so long, but I think she totally read right through me. I've never been one for successfully masking my emotions, even on the rare occasion when my makeup looks especially fantastic. She handled my Northern, city-like ways quite well, taking every impatient breath in stride, as she chatted with me about the weather. After I paid for the drink, I took my things and wandered around the Quarter, forgetting I wanted to spend some quality time with the Internet.

The months to follow I experience the same scenario repeatedly. At first, I was pretty traumatized by this. I remember distinctly thinking I had finally found my worst nightmare--a routinely scheduled Groundhog Day of Terrible Coffeehouses. Many emails were sent to my friends north of the Mason-Dixon line, complaining of the slooooooooow southern way of life and how I didn't think I could ever fit in here, yadda yadda yadda. And in reflection, I'm not even sure why I was in such a hurry, and not just with my interaction with coffeehouses in New Orleans.

I'm not sure when everything switched for me. Maybe it was when I sat in a CC's for about 6 hours writing and working on lesson plans. Or maybe it was having coffee with a teacher friend. But slowly (no pun intended) I've been won over to the Louisiana coffee scene. The coffeehouses here really do capture the essence of New Orleans. The conglomeration of people wearing funky hats and clam-digger pants, the 50% discount on ANY DRINK for flip-flop fanatics, slow turning ceiling fans, tables full of old friends shootin' the shit on a warm summer day. Delightfully lazy and perfect.

There's something ridiculously charming about this life; something so rare and meaningful. This would never fly in places like Chicago, New York, or Vienna. It's incredibly obvious what is valued here--good food, but more importantly good company. There's a harmony and appreciation for life in this city that I've never experienced before. And even though I'm not certain I can live here forever, New Orleans has won a piece of my heart I didn't even know I had.

blog 100

2010-07-06T12:24:00.002-05:00

Here it is, folks: my 100th post on this blog. It only took about 3 years to get here--no problem. And after re-reading parts of this publication, I made several shallow promises to update more often. Sorry about that. I should have known better. I also apologize for rambling incessantly about work. Snooze-fest.

My intention with this post is to renovate my writing and this blog. I want this to be a place of creativity, and hopefully, more explorative writing. For too long I've babbled about trying to find a job and struggling through depression and anxiety. Now that I have work, I shouldn't complain about it. And, in the past 3 years, I've managed to find ways to cope and handle those pesky little attributes I've wanted to ignore for so long. You see, this year I want to try and strike more of a balance between my personal and professional life. Now that I'm mildly successful with work (or, at the very least, I'm headed in the right direction) I really need to focus more on what I want in my day-to-day life. Like, a boyfriend? Or, making more time to go to the gym? Perhaps blogging more than twice a month? That'd be nice.

It's been too long since I've really dug deep into my writer-self. I miss it so much. When I look back to the times I was the happiest, it was when I was being challenged by my work, writing a lot, and spending time with friends. This year I've invested a lot of time in my work. I was definitely challenged by my work--but I neglected my close friendships and didn't take the time to build a lot of new ones. This year will be different. I'm going to make certain of it.

Summertime is halfway over. I start professional development in 3 weeks. In the meantime, my schedule is jam-packed with fun things, including:

--moving into a new condo!
--a fun-week with my mother
--a visit from andy!
--potential trips to blue bayou and abita springs for (free) beer tasting/tubing
--margarita party
--dancing with andrew
--finishing Rhoda's book
--blogging. Maybe I can hit 200 by December?

Cheers to summer!

a pinch of patriotism

2010-07-04T10:41:00.006-05:00

It goes without saying you'll read a million Facebook statuses quoting the Declaration of Independence or snip-its of the Constitution. Don't get me wrong, I recognize the value of being born American. I value my freedom of speech and am eternally thankful for the rare feeling of security I rely on daily. Even though I consider myself mildly patriotic, you won't see me posting "yay America" on anything publicly. It seems a bit stuffy or egotistical to flaunt my citizenship to the world, like this is the only place worth living--because there are several places I'd love to reside in Europe.

Seeing that today is Independence Day, I have to recognize the beauty of our Constitution in spite of the many complications it presents. The Constitution embodies the very reason I love literature so much because it lives and breathes and governs--without really changing at all. I hardly doubt the Founding Fathers understood how brilliant of a document this would become, or how it would govern this nation as our values, priorities, and citizens changed throughout time. There's no way they could have ever predicted our nation would become what it is today. And that, my friends, is incredible.

It's amazing that women have equal rights (legally), and that anyone, at any time, if they're willing to do the work, can do whatever it is they set out to do. It's unheard of that you can choose to study whatever you want, whenever you want, and most likely get government aid. I love that I can choose to live anywhere in this country: on one of the Great Lakes, on an ocean, in the mountains, on a farm, in a city, next to the bayou--it's so simple. Who else can actually do that? We take for granted the clean water, the abundance of food, a free market, and many other things. Today is a time to really appreciate all of those liberties, and pay respect to the people who went before us to set the tone and model the work ethic it'd take to make change happen in a place that didn't look so promising from the get-go.

But, above all of the aforementioned liberties, the greatest liberty of all is freedom of religion. In Chicago, I lived close to Devon Avenue on the north side of the city (scroll to the right until you see the lake--check out some of those restaurants and markets!). Devon Ave is arguably one of the most diverse streets in the country--and most definitely in Chicago. Driving down the street you encounter SO MANY different cultures and religions. The street starts at Lake Michigan, next to a Catholic university, and continues through to the western suburbs. You'll find (from east to west): and Orthodox-Jewish neighborhood, a Russian-American neighborhood, Indian, Pakistan, and Bangladeshi neighborhoods. And with each neighborhood, a new church or temple of some kind. How awesome is that? The best parts of the world, the most complicated and intimate parts of the world can exist together on the same street. I think it's miraculous that so many traditions and cultures have found a way to share this part of the city, in spite of the obvious challenges they must face.

Not only is this beautiful because people can exist peacefully, but these cultures are willing to share their beliefs and traditions with whomever is willing to learn. I think it's pretty amazing how well preserved each culture is, but how open they are to new people, new things, and new ideas. This is Pluralism at it's finest; Devon Ave. is something that is distinctly and undeniably American.

I'm proud to live in a place that is so accepting. America's far from perfect--and things are far from being truly equal--but no where else can compare to the true diversity this country allows, and the freedom to be who you want to be regardless of the beliefs of the Founding Fathers...or your neighbor.

as an aside--here's a link to my old apartment. it's gorgeous, isn't it? it's also for rent. so, people in chicago, check it out!
http://www.postlets.com/rts/3985329

homecoming

2010-07-03T21:18:00.012-05:00

I just returned to New Orleans from a fantastic and short lived vacation to the Windy City. God, I forgot how incredible Chicago is, especially in the summertime! It was wonderful to be around my friends and family--being crazy with school and whatnot here, I had somehow convinced myself I wasn't homesick. Ha. Right. How could I not miss this? :

This trip was extra awesome for two reasons:
Reason 1: Liz got married! This has been a long time coming. She and Chris have dated for almost as long as I've known her--so it was really exciting to be a part of their big day.

Reason 2: Chris Kardish came with me. Not only is he one of the best people I've become friends with here in NOLA, he'd never been to Chicago prior to this trip. Needless to say, it gave me an excuse to be a tour guide AND to be reunited with the city I'll always call home. We did just about everything you can do in a short period of time in the city.

We...

played in Millennium Park,

took pictures at the Bean,

enjoyed the Field Museum and the Art Institute,

went to a Cubs game (and in true Chicago fashion, they lost. Go figure),

and generally soaked up the gorgeous scenery.

We also went to numerous restaurants (including Cafe BaBaReeba, one of my personal favorites), hung out with Paul and Katie in Hyde Park, and bummed around Andersonville until Liz's wedding. If I do say so myself, it was the most perfect Chicago week--in every way possible.

The whole gang gathered for Liz and Chris's wedding. It was absolutely beautiful. Their wedding reflected everything wonderful about their relationship. I hope they realize how much of an inspiration they are. It's rare you find a couple who truly exemplifies teamwork and 100% commitment to one another. Whenever they're together it's completely obvious they love each other and put their relationship with each other before other things. How awesome to see something so awesome for two people I adore. :) Here we are at the reception (minus Katie--booo!):

Now I'm back in New Orleans and it's been a whole mess of emotions. This whole year I've only focused on my professional life and keeping my head above water that I didn't honestly take time to get to know this city or find ways to be alright with moving 1,000 miles from everything I love. Not that I'm morbidly depressed or anything, it's just hard for me to see the good in NOLA when only a few of my friends are around. This will, luckily, change tomorrow at the 4th of July BBQ I'm going to. And I can't wait to see all of my NOLA friends!

Life is funny. I really believed that if I left my old job to do what I really loved that everything else in my life would just fall into place. And for the most part, it really has--but for some reason, I'm pining for Chicago and everything in it. Stupid. So stupid, especially because I really do love New Orleans. Maybe the old adage, "the grass is always greener" is true after all.

Next week I move into a gorgeous condo in the Warehouse District. I'll post pictures of that soon. :) And hopefully, in my summer boredom, I'll be able to write more about things that are going on. I apologize for the excessive silence.

P.S.: Hello to my new UK readers! Danny speaks very highly of you--and you best come for Mardi Gras. It'll be a wicked good time. :)

levels of boredom.

2010-06-12T18:44:00.002-05:00

It's been a long time since I've complained about being bored. I forgot what it's like to just be and relax--to do nothing, to enjoy the still and quiet.

I've never been one for passive time, but I suppose I should grow to love these slow summer months. Today I watched an unhealthy amount of SATC, read for awhile, finished my laundry, started packing, and cleaned out my car. I'm anxious for Chicago. The drive should be fun. It'll be great to see the country during the day, as opposed to the two evenings Cara and I drove last summer (where has all the time gone?!).

There was also a lot of time spent thinking about what I want in my future. It's possible that "future" thoughts are a bit premature, but I think I want to go to graduate school. And I think I want to move to the Northeast. And I think that could happen before I'm 30 (which is in 5 years. omg). Granted, 5 years is a lot of time and anything can happen between now and then--but I keep thinking about New York and wondering if that's my next big move.

Why is it that one of my biggest desires is to be settled--but I keep making life choices that suggest the opposite? Truth be told, I enjoy the stress of being busy. The challenge to push myself further than I thought I could is intoxicating. What's wrong with that picture?

For now, I'll leave you with this Billy Collins:

Days

Each one is a gift, no doubt,
mysteriously placed in your waking hand
or set upon your forehead
moments before you open your eyes.

Today begins cold and bright,
the ground heavy with snow
and the thick masonry of ice,
the sun glinting off the turrets of clouds.

Through the calm eye of the window
everything is in its place
but so precariously
this day might be resting somehow

on the one before it,
all the days of the past stacked high
like the impossible tower of dishes
entertainers used to build on stage.

No wonder you find yourself
perched on the top of a tall ladder
hoping to add one more.
Just another Wednesday,

you whisper,
then holding your breath,
place this cup on yesterday's saucer
without the slightest clink.

letting myself write shit

2010-06-07T23:25:00.003-05:00

It's really difficult to write shit when you're a Type A. You want to obsess over every syllable, every punctuation mark, to make sure you're not misunderstood. Or, something like that.

Realistically, this year has taught me a lot about being shitty. Because, let's face it--my job ain't easy and I'm not perfect at it. Far from it, actually. And for the first time in my life, I'm kind of okay with embracing this reality. You see, I've spent over 300 hours this year working on perfecting the craft of teaching. I've practiced the teacher face, written countless behavior plans, organized dozens of lesson plans. Sometimes it was for absolutely nothing. Everything fell apart within 2 minutes of class and I was left with a bunch of restless preteens, a shred of creativity, and the remaining few ounces of self-confidence I could scrape off the bottom of my kidney-shaped table.

Sure, I'm probably being a little dramatic. I'm also being completely honest. There were a lot of shitty days in my first year as an educator. It was not, at all, the way I pictured it to be.

I just signed my contract for a second year.

This isn't about my TFA contract or because the economy is bad. Believe me, I've always told myself that, at the very least, if I had to, I could always become a Sandwich Artist wherever my heart desired--but right now, as shitty as it is, I'm doing what I absolutely love. After all, my friends (and counselor) have labeled me a masochist. I keep coming back for more, even when it doesn't make sense. I've created ways to be completely enable misery and irritability and, well, shit.

After college, the big life lesson I had to learn was patience. I had to accept that I couldn't do anything I wanted whenever I wanted to do it. It took a lot of tears and frustration to learn that talk wasn't enough--I had to do something. I had to prove I was worth the education I worked for. I hated being part of a corporation that wanted me to take "baby steps" and I hated that I was stuck behind a shitty computer with so many restrictions on what I could do for my community, for the profession, and ultimately myself. So, I decided to get out before I got strapped down in an office chair, between the walls of a half-cubical, wearing a terrible suit.

This year hasn't been a walk in the park. I've faced many challenging situations that forced me to push myself further than I thought I could be pushed. I did things this year that I never dreamt I could do--and it was still shitty! I'm not even close to being the educator I want to be. But, I did figure out my next big life lesson:

Shit has to be dealt with directly, immediately, with your own bare hands.

My charter has an edible school yard, a garden/classroom where the kids can go and learn about the world they live in. The students themselves built it from the ground up. Over the past five years they've watched the fruit and flowers and vegetables grow because they wrestled with themselves. They trusted people when they were told, "it'll pay off! just wait and see!" They rolled up their sleeves and got their hands dirty, shit under their fingernails, sweat drenching the soil as they created a compost pile and planted rows of strawberries.

That's what I'm doing right now. I'm in the middle of a bunch of shit--but I'm already starting to see little-bity seeds sprout into something beautiful. This is a different sort of baby step. It's direction that I'm creating for myself and for others. There are no chairs to be strapped to, no cubical, no restrictions. I can't wait to relax this summer, but I'm even more excited to see how strong I can become and how many kids decide to ditch the gloves and work along side me.

interesting question

2010-05-11T11:47:00.002-05:00

On Monday I had my last certification class for the year. As a last-stitch effort to make our seminar more meaningful, we dedicated a lot of our time talking about education reform in New Orleans. We talked about who was a part of the movement, how our respective alternative certification organizations were impacting change--and if we're seeing a big enough difference for teachers to stay a part of what's happening here.

The changes I see here are remarkable. Never have I witnessed kids make such a HUGE comeback in terms of reading level or math fluency. I would have never believed that people could make such radical changes in behavior and skill level--or in a mindset that learning is possible, no matter what the circumstance.

I'm sure most people see changes like these in their students, but some people just can't stick around. They claim the job isn't sustainable and it's difficult to keep up with the demands and expectations--all fair and valid reasons for leaving the field. So the question posed was: what will it take for people to stay?

There are two things I could see making a difference for people to stay in education:

1.) Incentive. People are motivated by a variety of things, but I think if teachers felt like there was an opportunity for advancement in the workplace, there would be a huge shift in teacher mindset. I suppose money could be a factor here, too.

2.) Investment. A lot of the time it seems as if no one understands what you really do in your classroom day in and day out. Even though teaching is a meaningful and valuable job, there are times when you can't see how you're changing lives or making an impact. This can be incredibly frustrating, especially considering how much time and effort it takes to make a classroom run efficiently.

But when push comes to shove, the bottom line is this: If you're not passionate about teaching, you're not going to stay in education.

It's a great idea to take successful people from all walks of life, train them, and put them into classrooms. It's making a difference. These people are good teachers and they truly want to positively impact a community. Not all of these people teach because they love education. There are a variety of reasons why people join such movements--none of which are bad or irrelevant--but once you're in the classroom and 25 little faces are looking at you, waiting for you to lead them, education becomes totally different. Teaching isn't for everyone.

cajun pride

2010-03-27T14:27:00.003-05:00

I almost lost an ear to a baby alligator.

You read correctly: ALMOST LOST AN EAR.

When I found out I was moving to New Orleans, I posted an entry about wanting to go on a swamp tour. On Friday, I had the perfect opportunity to go on one--with a fifth grade class.

Believe it or not, people from New Orleans rarely leave the city. The locals I've met and become friends with have lived in the same are of the city their entire lives--as in, are only blocks from their childhood homes. My neighborhood is especially a testament to this. When we moved into our house, we soon realized that we imposed on an entire block of an eternal family reunion. Thankfully they're friendly, in a way that only Southern hospitality can offer, but still: it's strange to be the odd man out when it's someone's birthday.

This is why I was happy to go on the swamp tour with this particular group of kids. No one had any idea what to expect when we left on our endeavor Friday morning. We would soon learn that Louisiana gators mean serious business.

We drove the 27 miles to Cajun Pride, a moderately sized, renovated house in the middle of the bayou. This place is truly SOUTHERN. Tin roof. Wooden patio. Three cats milling about outside. Rotund men, dressed in overalls and straw hats (gator teeth strategically stitched to the brim). All you could hear were the sounds of cicadas, crickets, and the occasional holler of some sort of dog.

Holy shit. I don't think I like Louisiana outside of New Orleans.

Anyway, we marched our fifth grade babies onto the largest pontoon boat I've ever seen and Cap'n Jethro (not kidding) began our first official Cajun Swamp Tour.

Louisiana has a very interesting history. We learned about the first Cajun settlers, how they survived, how they got rich, how they became poor, and everything in between. The swamp is located in what is historically known as Frenier. This is the only place where people (supposedly) no longer live, but is allowed to keep the town name on current maps. Remnants of the town have been preserved (a few tin shacks, a traditional graveyard from the late 1800s, etc) and the kids got a kick out of the history of this little, sketchy place. Yay for broadening minds!

After 45 minutes of an actual tour, Cap'n Jethro brought us to the heart of the swamp so we could get a real close look at some "live Loooooooooooooooosi-anna gaters". And oh my giant--were they ever huge and scary. CJ kept tossing handfuls of fat marshmallows into the water and the gators would SNAP!and devour the puffy bodies of fluff. These beasts swam right up to the pontoon boat, their sienna glossy eyes scoping out new flesh.

Once the kids had their fill of staring at these animals, CJ announces that he has a gator friend on board. "Say hi to my baby, Elvis! Wanna hold 'im?!" Some of the kids freaked out. Some of the boys were all, "AWESOME!" I was all, "Fuck, someone's going to the ER today."

I was surprised at how calm Elvis was, even as 35 pairs of eager hands smoothed over his 3 feet of cool scales. He didn't make a go for someone's fingers or a nose. He barely moved. How exciting?! All of my students will have all the appendages we arrived with.

But that didn't mean the teachers were promised anything.

Cap'n Jethro made an announcement that each of the staff was going to take a special picture with Elvis. He looked right at me and made me go first. Fantastic! Couldn't wait!

These were his instructions, verbatim: "I need you to look straight ahead at the camera and DO NOT MOVE. Elvis is going to hang out right here on your shoulder..."

Um, excuse me? WHAT?!

So, I have a boat full of fifth graders staring at me, clapping because I'm doing something so totally rad--and I can barely hear them because my heart is beating in my ears saying "DON'T DO THIS! DON'T DO IT! NATURE IS NOT YOUR FRIEND!"

But I was a sport. I let Elvis chill. Until, out of the corner of my eye, I see his little head turn to face me. And his giant jaws open wide. I couldn't move because if I did, I might enter the BITE ZONE (as if I wasn't there already)!

The kids screamed, the other teachers gasped, and Cap'n Jethro was all, "OOPS! Elvis must love your pretty little earrings!" as he removed Elvis from his perch. "It's all good!"

All good? ALL GOOD?! According to who?! Sorry, Jethro, you didn't almost LOSE AN EAR in front of the children you teach!

I could see it all pan out: Elvis clamps down on my upturned earlobe with his 70+ needle teeth. Blood squirts everywhere. I try to not scream in agony. The kids get rowdy because OMG the TEACHER has a 3 FT GATOR HANGING FROM HER FACE! We're 30 min out from the nearest hospital--horrible, horrible, horrible. So you can see why I was hesitant to allow Elvis to return to my shoulder so I could, finally, get that picture I've always dreamed of.

They took the picture (which I will post once it's emailed to me) and everything was fine.

Today I'm thankful that I do have both of my ears, that my face is fine, and that I'm back in the city, enjoying tea and 75 degree weather.

Moral of story: once a city girl, ALWAYS a city girl.

...or avoid swamp tours and men named Jethro.

real life?

2010-03-15T13:06:00.000-05:00

The teachers of Greater New Orleans were given the opportunity to indulge in the greatest professional development of all time. Doug Lemov, of Uncommon Schools, came to New Orleans to help us bring our classrooms to the next level. If you're not sure who he is or what I'm talking about, just know that the premise of his success comes from this idea of "positive framing"; i.e., a borderline "coach" approach to the classroom.

When I first heard that Mr. Lemov was coming to town, I was really excited to have the chance to work one-on-one with someone who had experienced so much success in the classroom--a classroom that was very similar to the one I teach in now. Lately, it seems I've reached a frustration level with my students that often makes me feel completely defeated and exhausted at the end of the day. The past few weeks have given me numerous situations that easily distracted my students from learning and completely derailed my lessons. These situations were handled as best as I knew how--which wasn't always the right way. But some of these situations occurred because of the silliest things. Like this:

(to student) "You need to sit up straight."
student: "Why?"
me: "You need to sit up straight. In 3...2..."
student: [doesn't move]
me: "1...Okay. Your choosing to not comply means you earn a mark for not following directions."
student: "WHAT?! This lady's blowin'..."
me: "No response is needed. You need to sit up straight so we can move on with the lesson."
student: "No."
me: "Please go to the Time Out Center."
Student: "No."
me: "You need to go to the Time Out Center immediately."
Student: "No. Imma stay right here."
me: "You need to go to the Time Out Center immediately."
Student: "No." [throws pencil at the floor]

This dialogue keeps going--eventually pushing me over the edge and calling an administrator to remove the kid from my classroom. How annoying.

It's March. State tests are coming up. Kids are freaking out. I haven't taken one personal day ALL YEAR. It's a really stressful time to be an educator--especially when so much of what you've been working on is about to be measured by ONE test, of which the scores will be SHARED OUT TO THE ENTIRE COUNTRY. No pressure or anything.

All of these things are a very scary reality, and represents a problem I felt so strongly about that I moved across the country to work toward a resolution. This doesn't take away from the fact that TEACHING IS WEIRD.

Let's revisit this dialogue I had with a student: "You need to sit up" = melt down. I'm sure you're wondering, "Kristi, what's a mark?" And to be quite honest, some days I'm not positive I can answer you. We're working toward something so great, so powerful, so telling of what our country will be able to do and the lives people will be able to live--and I'm creating arbitrary systems to get kids to sit up straight and tuck in their uniform shirts.

Obviously having these systems allow children to learn. All of these arbitrary systems are designed to maximize student achievement--the scary thing is THEY WORK. A child wants nothing more than this structure. All children want verbal praise, or even a non-verbal recognition that they can, in fact, follow all directions and exceed expectations.

But some days I sit back and remove myself from what I'm doing on a daily basis and I crack up at how absurd it all is. Half of the consequences I dole out ARE NOT REAL! It's language to show how certain behavior takes away from the act of internalizing material--that's it. Outside the walls of my school, those children will never care if they get a "mark". There will be no color coded consequence ladder. After this year, no one will think about pirate's gold or benefit bucks or when so-and-so earned a Ticonderoga pencil. I think about the behavior plans I've created: I've put into writing that a child can EARN M&Ms for every 10 minutes of COMPLIANCE. What about that is preparing them for real life?

If I've learned anything, the purpose of school is two-fold. Obviously you want your students to learn--but more than that, you want to condition them to THINK and to LIVE a real life.

It's funny, though: I left Chicago to live life. I wanted to experience something so extraordinary and revolutionary...and now I'm a teacher. In so many ways I'm living the life I've wanted--I try to remind myself of this while I pass out M&Ms.

weekend routine.

2010-03-06T23:05:00.004-06:00

this is a standard practice in my life. thanks, andy!

my classroom

2010-02-15T09:20:00.003-06:00

(click the picture for full comic!)

whole new level of party

2010-02-06T09:42:00.004-06:00

Carnival season is upon New Orleans and I cannot even begin to tell you how electric the air is. Everyone is happy, bouncing from parade to parade and collecting beads. The high is supposed to be approaching 60 today (need I remind you that it's FEBRUARY?!). I've never experienced weather this magical.

I went to my first parade last weekend--Krewe de Vieux. This is the most crude of the parades and, so far, I've enjoyed it the most. In Chicago a parade is very simple: oversized, commercial floats, giant blimp-like characters, marching bands in uniform. Maybe some people throw candy, most don't. Parades are saturated with advertising. People stop by for a little while (unless it's a big deal parade, like the Thanksgiving parade or something). Snoozefest!!! I'd be embarrassed for someone from NOLA to visit a parade in Chicago or New York. They are so pasty in comparison.

Parades here are so...I actually don't know if I can sum it up in a word. It's kind of like a theatre-in-the-round production. There's no 4th wall; it's required for everyone to participate. Everyone goes, so it's incredibly communal. Everyone dances. Everything is so colorful and exciting. Every float is custom made. It's a contest to get the most beads--and a lot of people, including our house, use them to decorate your Mardi Gras tree.

Krewe de Vieux is oh-so crass. To give you an example, there was a flaming vagina float. Yeah, you read it right: A FLAMING VAGINA. Followed by a firetruck. The top of the float read "Fire in the Hole"--wtf?! Who does that?! There's no shame here--not even a little bit.

After the parade went through the Quarter, the crowds flooded the streets and danced for hours. What other city lets people crowd the streets and dance until they feel like stopping? We left the party a little early to walk down to Bourbon, but I imagine that people were out there all hours of the night. They probably walked to Elizabeth's for breakfast when they were tired. That's how New Orleans parties. There's no such thing as "last call" here, which can be both awesome and dangerous.

Everyone is in such a spirited mood. I've never encountered so many energetic and happy people in FEBRUARY in my entire life. It's usually this time of year when SAD kicks in and you're talking your friends off a ledge--after living here, I don't think I can ever do a Chicago winter again. I wasn't made to live in such cold conditions.

Not only is New Orleans so exciting because of Carnival, but it's Superbowl Weekend--and for the first time in the history of the organization, the New Orleans Saints have made it to the big game. Granted, I've never been much of a football person, but I think I'm being converted. There's something about this team, this town that is so compelling that you can't help but jump on board with the enthusiasm! If I must convert to be a football fan, I'll be 100% dedicated to the Saints.

The Saints being in the Superbowl--especially if they win--is giving this city a sense of rebirth. It's metaphoric for being able to take something that is incredibly horrible and turning it around for the better. After all of the controversy of whether or not NOLA should be rebuilt, it's fantastic to see something that comes from there be so successful.

All the kids at our school are feeling the positive vibe. Our hallways are all sorts of black and gold--bulletin boards that say "If the Saints can go all the way, SO CAN YOU!" People are taking to that mentality and going all out. I wonder if this might be the catalyst in making things change here.

The past few years have been full of change and I've been lucky enough to be right in the middle of it all. In the most formative years of my life, I've witnessed a whole new type of White House, a new career, a new city, a renewed spirit of American pride and energy in politics--and I hope I'm lucky enough to catch the wave of renewal here. I think I thrive on a sense of pioneerism. Even if I've tried to deny it for a long time, it's what makes me American. I've given up so much to capture new beginnings and exciting change that I can't imagine what it's like to be settled.

This new New Orleans stands for so much that I believe in. And as it continues to grow, explore, and change so do I.

I might be here for awhile.

hip-hoppin' into 2010

2010-01-10T16:29:00.006-06:00

It's the new year and I haven't posted yet. Actually, I haven't had much time to do anything because I've been consumed with school. Second semester started last week and I'm so determined to bring more fun into my classroom. Our school is in the middle of a cultural restart in an effort to focus on the positive and really push our babies to do the best they can do--not only for on the upcoming LEAP test, but in life. If we focus on the positive, our hope is that they focus on the positive, too.

I've overhauled my classroom into a tracking paradise so they can see how much they grow in such a short period of time. My Feed Pierre campaign is working out nicely. Pierre is a cultural piece in my room to collect homework and to help introduce the concept of persuasive writing. Um, awesome. :)

For my literacy intervention class, I drew a head (albeit, an ugly head) to reinforce the three ways we learn and master language--I call him Letter Head (hahaha) and he tells us our daily and weekly objectives. The kids think he's a little weird, but when he's not around, they ask where that ugly guy is. I think they secretly like him.

My goals for 2010 are three fold:
1.) Make learning fun.
2.) Engage my students in the material so life is less stressful for me and for them.
3.) Get out more.

As much as I love teaching and I love my job, I really need to learn how to utilize my non-work time by hanging out more in New Orleans. I figure it's a good time to do that since Carnival season has begun. Notice I haven't used the word "resolution"--that word sets me up for failure.

Something to leave you with:
I've mentioned before, my students are incredibly talented drummers. Sometimes they like to drum on my tables while they are taking a test. I try to not interfere (unless it's a huge distraction to others) because the rhythm helps my kids concentrate on tests, quizzes, homework, etc. This particular beat came from one student. He had one hand on his forehead as he read a short story. He had one pen and his left hand. Unbelievable.

i'm not a cat person...

2009-12-13T23:28:00.002-06:00

...but I kind of love this one.

Catherine was right. I'm going to die with this kitten. Ugh.

should have spent the $25 on galoshes

2009-12-09T21:33:00.000-06:00

Never in my life have I experienced so much rain in December! Check out this craziness:

Our neighbor told us that during Katrina our street was one of the few that didn't flood. We had no idea there was so much water everywhere else until Andrew, Mi, and I went for an evening stroll. Here's some more media evidence of our journey:

That water came up to our knees.

Corner of Carrolton and Claiborne. See the dead cars?

City swimmers, fevers and all. :)

This is such a crazy, weird, beautiful place.

trashketball and other reasons i love new orleans

2009-11-18T19:16:00.011-06:00

If I've learned anything about teaching it's that when you allow students to experience the material with as many senses as possible, they are far more likely to master content. And, thanks to Brian Darrow, my students are beyond invested in my writing lessons.

The majority of my students are male (actually, all but two of my students are males) and they have a varying dislike for reading and writing. For the past few weeks I've tried every motivation I could think of to get them to perform, to get them invested and practicing skills--nothing. I was met with a lot of resistance and behavior problems.

When I'm outside of class, I always try to seek opportunities to get to know my kids better. Through this endeavor I've learned that almost all of my students LOVE basketball. So, naturally, I thought, "how can I incorporate basketball into my writing lessons?" Enter: trashketball.

This summer Brian brought our students several steps closer to mastery with trashketball. Basically, the kids have in-class problems they must solve--and every problem they solve correctly earns them a chance to shoot a "trashketball"...or a wad of paper into the garbage can. It sounds incredibly lame, but seriously, this may have saved my writing lessons this week. My students finished all of their Daily Oral Language with about 95% accuracy! Which is awesome. It's all because they want to learn the content to play this game. And now that they see they CAN do this work, they're not as reluctant to do free writing or other constructed response type activities. I need to come up with other games that are similar in nature. Not only does this motivate them to actually learn the content, but it helps with the fidgeting and antsy behavior that DRIVES ME UP A WALL.

I really can't begin to tell all of you how much I love what I do. How can you not love what you do when you see these faces every day?

Seriously--you cannot deny their cuteness. Even when they get on my last nerve.

TFA is probably the best decision I've made to date. You never have the same day twice. I've met some incredible people who challenge me to grow in my practice as an educator and push me further than I thought I could be pushed. And the kids. My goodness, they are some of the most creative, intelligent, funny and inspiring people I've ever met. I think I found my true passion in life.

Other reasons I love New Orleans:

--This lovely 70 degree weather we're having in NOVEMBER. I wore flip flops the other day. I've never worn flip flops in November. If the weather's always this gorgeous, I may never move north again.

--These people:

They light up my world. This was from Halloween (btw: Halloween's INSANE in New Orleans). Andrew and I went as Stanley and Blanche from A Streetcar Named Desire. Doc would be proud. Mi was the secretary from Mad Men. Check out her sexy, volumized hair--va va VOOM. I wish Danny was in this picture--he dressed up as a "fairy" and it was hilarious.

--French words! I still laugh about "boocoo". I have to hold in my giggles every time someone says it around here. I don't know why I think it's so funny, but I'm mildly obsessed. So much so that I made a bulletin board in my classroom dedicated to "boocoo" learning. It's like my brag board--whenever they do well on an assignment, I hang it up so they know I'm proud of their work--and they should be, too. (Also--Ian, Luke and Jeremy: notice my Boston leaves in the upper right corner of the bulletin board. They ask questions about them on a daily basis, hahaha) Here it is:

Anyway, I don't know why I'm in such a gleeful mood tonight. Honestly, I'm exhausted and really looking forward to Thanksgiving break. Granted, most of my break will be working on school stuff, I can't wait to meet my godchild, see good friends, sleep in, play with my puppy, and love on my family. Things are looking up. :)

hurricane?

2009-11-09T19:45:00.004-06:00

I went to school this morning to help with hurricane preparations. We moved everything away from the windows, covered all the computers with plastic bags, took home curriculum books and backed up files on our jump drives in anticipation of flooding and wind damage. As we walked out of the school, the wind picked up and it started to rain. The temperature dropped about 15 degrees.

That was the most action New Orleans saw all day.

It's both relieving and disappointing that nothing really happened. Purely out of curiosity, I wanted to see a tropical storm; however, I'm thankful nothing terrible happened. I'm also thankful that I was able to use this day to catch up on sleep. I didn't realize how exhausted I was until I slept through my alarm this morning. Yikes.

Luckily, everything will be back to normal tomorrow. Thanks to all who have called, texted and/or emailed to check on me! :)

a quick insight

2009-11-07T23:34:00.002-06:00

I come home to this every single day:

I'm glad I finally had the opportunity to capture the crazy of the "burdhouse" on video for all of you to witness. How could I possibly be stressed when I come home to dancing and laughter every night? Impossible, I say.

In other news, November is National Novel Writing Month. This is the first year I haven't attempted to write the 50,000+ word benchmark. Given the amount of work I have, I didn't think it was a good idea to add another project. (Aren't you proud of me?! I'm learning how to say NO! and to better manage my time.) Instead of tackling NaNoWriMo, I thought about making November a blogging month since I've neglected this site this year; however, you'll notice it's already the 7th (8th?) and this is the first post of the month. The idea of the blogging month would be to post something daily. Why start a project when I'm already a week behind?

Thanksgiving is about 3 weeks away, which means I'll be in Chicago in exactly TWO WEEKS! Even though I'm going to freeze, I can't wait to be in the city again. It also happens to be my birthday in exactly two weeks--plan on going out so I can see all of you (or most of you)!

a strange kind of homesick

2009-10-03T19:46:00.005-05:00

It's finally October. I keep thinking about how fall is in full swing in the Midwest: the trees changing to oranges, yellows and maroons, the air cooling off as summer slowly fades away. High school homecoming parades occupy most weekends and, I swear, there's a cozy cinnamon smell in the air that makes you want to nuzzle your nose deep into the layers of a boldly colored scarf. So many of my fondest memories are from dancing in piles of leaves and snuggling up to good friends around a bonfire on Lake Michigan, cup of apple cider in hand.

Fall is comfortable, always has been. It's a natural progression into the normal swing of life--the start of school, far less traveling and vacation; a more calming schedule as the days shorten and people pick up the pace with productivity.

Here in New Orleans the weather is still summer-like. While the humidity (that ungodly humidity) has mostly subsided, it's still in the 80s. Air conditioning is still necessary, though it's finally starting to get to the point of being able to open windows and turn on all the ceiling fans. As nice as that may seem, I kind of hate it. To me, fall is synonymous with friend-time--and I'm not quite sure I have good friends here yet.

This isn't to say that I haven't met some incredible people here; however, they don't really know me like my Chicago people do (or my Michigan people, pending the circumstance). It's hard to be so far away from home during a time in my life where there are significant changes happening.

That being said, I'm really excited for Boston in a few days AND I've started my Thanksgiving countdown. I'll be home from November 21-28. You can bet I'm expecting to see all of your smiling faces.

jazz beats boppin' through my veins

2009-09-27T09:07:00.009-05:00

My hope for this big move to New Orleans was that I'd be able to settle down into a new career. I thought after taking this job things in my life would start to make more sense and dull down the crazy.

What was I thinking?

New Orleans has done anything but dull down the crazy. The city itself is a bebop jazz song. Everything is impulsive. The bass strings beat on the sidewalks and harmonize with the rain that tippity-taps on my front porch every morning. People here are incredibly spirited. Truthfully, I'm envious of their ability to be mellow. The presence of family here is astounding. People live next door to all of their aunts, uncles, cousins, granny and granddad--a fusion of generations sitting on the front porch sipping sweet tea, eating shrimp and grits without another care in the world. It says a lot about what people value, a slight (but obvious) shift in priorities from the place I call home.

It's been a challenge to let go of my Chicago mentality and settle into a much slower, Southern existence. I noticed this when I was at the Winn-Dixie waiting for my deli order. After repeating what I wanted at least three times, I watched Ms. May mosey behind the counter to get the brick of ham I wanted. And then she put the brick on the slicer. And then she moved the slicer a few times before yelling, "Baby, how much you say you want?" Then, Dominique wanted to know if anyone heard about Dougie Brown at the jazz club last night--which erupted into a loud mess of hollerin' and thigh slappin'. When this finally settled down Ms. May asked, "Now wha-choo wanted?" Instead of joining in with the knee slapping, I tapped my foot impatiently, thinking of all the things I could have done instead. I mean, in that 15 minutes I COULD HAVE CHANGED THE COURSE OF THE WORLD! so how dare someone waste so much of my precious free time.

And that's when I realized a few things:

a.) I've turned into my mother.
b.) I'm living in Louisiana. For real.
c.) Holy crap, I need to sloooooooooooooooooow down.

I've never truly experienced community until I lived here. In the short few months I've been in town, I can honestly say I've never been so warmly welcomed by people in my entire life. I can't imagine moving to Chicago and having your presence celebrated in such a wonderful way. Even though the tempo's a bit slower than I prefer, nothing beats the close-knit community of New Orleans. I'm finding it easy to meet new people (even some non-teacher people!), even if this town isn't exactly my cup of tea.

Even though the adjustment to New Orleans culture has been more of a process than anticipated, there some things that I've simply fallen in love with.

1.) The blend of French into every day language, especially the word "beaucoup" (pronounced "boo-coo"). It took me a good month to figure out what my students were saying to me. "Ms. Orange, you give 'boo-coo' homework!" "I have boo-coo bucks!" "We have boo-coo fun at the football game!" "You're boo-coo crazy, Ms. Orange!"

After all of this 'boo-coo' business, I finally caved and asked one of my 8th graders what that meant. He looked at me like I was insane. "Um. It's French. Didn't you go to college?" was the response I got. When I asked if he meant 'beaucoup' he told me, "Ms. Orange, where'd you learn bow-cou? You be trippin'. "

2.) The weather. I never thought I'd be one for heat, but holy lord, I love the 70s and sunny every day. Sure, we get the occasional storm, but the rain only lasts for about 20 minutes before the sun pushes away the clouds. It'll be hard to go back to Chicago for Christmas knowing it's -30 degrees outside.

3.) Live music. CHEAP live music. Anything you want to hear, from whoever you want to hear it from--everyone comes to New Orleans for music.

4.) New Orleans charm. Everything here is so colorful and alive. It's hard to be depressed or upset when everything has so much character, encouraging you to frolic and play.

Now, instead of writing a few thousand more words, I'll post some pictures to give you another glimpse into my teacher-southern fusion of a life. Enjoy!

This picture is mostly for Elise--PROOF I haven't cut my hair! Aren't you so proud?

This is Bella. I've been trying to find a home for her for about a month now--but because she's so freaking cute, it's harder than I want it to be. I'm not a cat person at all, but my lord is she precious. If you know of anyone who wants a cute, cute kitten let me know. She's free!

This is one of my favorite students. I swear this kid is 11 going on 30. We were on a non-academic field trip to the gym, so it's maybe not the greatest picture, but it's the best one I've got for now.

Now that I've procrastinated the majority of the morning, I should probably get ready for my day tomorrow. Much love--and I promise to update again soon.

victory's never been sweeter

2009-09-02T00:26:00.002-05:00

i just killed two roaches--one of the giant variety, one of the flying variety. who knew that a battle of epic proportions would take place right here in my bedroom?!

good thing i ate my wheaties this morning. i just played like a champion.

Beyond the Bayou: a picture novella.

2009-08-13T22:57:00.012-05:00

Hello friends :)

It's been quite some time since my last update and a great deal has happened in the past few weeks! To reward your patience (or, at the very least, mix up my promised check-ins) instead of drafting a wordy, albeit passionate, email, I thought it'd be more fun to actually SEE my life the past few months--thus the picture novella. I'll briefly guide you through my final weeks in Phoenix, then we'll hop on over to the Big Easy so I can show you around my new home, new school and introduce you to my new friends! :)

If you remember, I explained how Institute was an intricate blend of my freshman year of college and boot camp. For the entire summer, I lived here:

Welcome to Hassayampa Academic Village, more affectionately known as hell. This building housed about 500 first year teachers and countless staff members. In addition to the high stress levels, putting 500 mid-20 somethings in the same living space for 5 weeks created a lot of interesting tension--resulting in dramatic rounds of alcohol consumption and junior high-like crushes. I will say, though, that this "academic village" had everything we could have ever needed: supplies, technology, decent food, a pool, mountains, and a coffee shop.

I taught at an incredible school on the south side of Phoenix. I don't have a picture of the school (and even if I did, I wouldn't be able to post it). My school team was inspiring, especially a certain group of teachers that congregated in Room 19--and even MORE especially, my collaborative group. Together we were responsible for teaching our sixth graders remedial skills that will help them succeed in 7th grade. We worked together to draft lessons, make posters, design graphic organizers (oh, the graphic organizers!), and so much more. The people in my group were some of the most talented, creative and hilarious people I've ever met. I'm so glad they're all in New Orleans! It was amazing to work with people who had the same vision of success--which made it that much sweeter when the end of the summer came and we could celebrate with our kiddos. :) Here are a few pictures of my collab and my kids:

Two of my favorites--even though I can't technically have favorites.
How can you resist those smiles?! My heart melts every time.

Here's the whole lot of us. :) They're so fun and so, so, so smart. I genuinely love them.
Even if some of them are taller than me.

A fine display of that creativity I was talking about: Chris played the kids a "Math Achievement" song on a souvenir flute he picked up on our trip to the Grand Canyon. They ATE IT UP.
As in, they couldn't get enough. His creativity is one of the many reasons the kids loved him. That, and his awesome shirt/tie combos, as noted in the above photo.

Our last day at Institute was a lot harder than I expected. In such a short period of time, I grew SO ATTACHED to those kids. I wish I could have spent an entire year with them. But, since I can't, my Phoenix experience has been my soul motivation in getting ready for this school year in New Orleans.

I was hired to teach for Samuel J. Green Junior High, a Firstline Charter school. Firstline was the first charter school in New Orleans. It has a noteable history in this city and is well known for making significant student gains and for the Edible School Yard, founded by Alice Waters. (To watch a short clip about ESY, watch this.) Of all the schools I could have worked in, this is by far the best scenario. The past few weeks I've been learning the ropes of the school--the CUTEST SCHOOL EVER! Check it out:
The majority of the staff are TFA and Teach NOLA alumni, all the way up to school administration. I've learned a lot in the short time I've been with the school and I already feel at home there. I love the building, the people...and I get to meet the kids this coming Monday! There's been a lot of construction at the school so I haven't taken decent pictures of the inside, but when I do, I'll post them. :)

All this talk about school, school, school and I haven't mentioned a thing about where I'm actually living! I live here:
How we found this place I'll never know. It literally just fell in our laps! I mean, seriously, who moves to New Orleans and finds a house with a white picket fence?! Here are a few pictures of the inside. Don't judge too harshly. I haven't had time to decorate and I've only been living here for 3 weeks!

Here's a shot of my room. This picture doesn't really show how ginormous this bedroom is--
please note the open door to the right of the photo. That is my walk-in closet. Holy goodness.

This is our kitchen. I love the counter tops. :) We have soooo much counterspace!
Pardon the disaster zone, but you get a sense of the layout of the house in this one.

It's a 4-bedroom house about 2 blocks from the famous St. Charles Streetcar. Don't you worry--with all of this open space we plan on hosting a Tennessee Williams theme party. It may be a requirement to take the streetcar to our party, obviously belting out a hearty "STELLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAA" before entering our front door.

Well, folks, as anticlimactic as this is, that's all I have for today. As I explore more of this vibrant city, I'll post pictures and write shorter anecdotes for all of you to peruse at your leisure. :)

Love and miss you all.

laissez les bons temps rouler!

2009-08-08T11:46:00.003-05:00

One thing I've come to love about New Orleans is the strict "work hard, play harder" mentality. This city is incredibly vibrant--so vibrant, I often find myself inspired to be in a good mood. I love how jazz rolls through the streets like London fog, taking that sassy Louisiana humidity by the waist and dancing right in the middle of the street. People here dance all the time. After a long day of work, I can count on someone to pull me close and sway to Louis Armstrong. That, paired with a mint julep, is enough for me to say, "what stress?"

Okay, so maybe I can't completely let go of the stress, but the spirit of this city is so unlike anything I've ever encountered before. Chicago and New Orleans could easily be lovers. Both parties are 100% loyal to their own, both have an unparalleled energy and both are incredibly passionate.

Maybe I'll like it here after all. :)

Room 28 and 19, respectively.

2009-07-19T09:11:00.003-05:00

Institute is over. I'm heading back to New Orleans and this time, instead of lugging a million books and a few binders, I shipped everything back to to the Big Easy so this trip will be easy-peasy.

This experience wasn't as horrible as I imagined it would be. Before going through the motions, it was easy to be overwhelmed by the daunting realization I'd be working insanely long hours, learning how to be a teacher while teaching, and living in a dorm with hundreds of other teachers--what I didn't take into consideration was how my students would impact me or the friendships I'd form with my peers.

To start, Room 28 was my first classroom. I had the privellege to share it with three other incredible teachers--who, thankfully, will be teaching in New Orleans this fall. We taught a 6th grade general education classroom, primarily teaching pre-algebra and remedial reading/writing skills. I have 13 students in my classroom--2 of which are English Language Learners (ELLs) and 2 of which are special needs. To quickly dispel any preconceived notions you might have about my students: not all of them are in summer school because they are being retained. Most of my kiddos come from poverty stricken areas and school is cheaper than day care. All of my students are unbelievably smart, and even more than smart, they're the most motivated group of 12 year olds I've ever met.

Being in class with them every day has been both challenging and rewarding. As a novice educator, trying to balance classroom management, providing rigorous instruction, and accommodating the four students with very different/specific learning requirements has been difficult. I spent the majority of my time looking for new ways to present information so all of my kids had the opportunity to do well. And when they did succeed, I wanted to do cartwheels, throw confetti, hug them, and tell them over and over that I always knew they could do that math problem, or that they could write that summary.

When you realize you're in a position to have such a powerful impact on someone's life, the lack of sleep, the intense schedule, and all of the other frustrations just kind of fall away. So even though this has been the longest month of my life, knowing at least one child has the confidence to tackle his or her own learning will be something I carry with me forever.

Beyond the impact the kids had on me, I am in love with Room 19. Room 19 is where my advisor group shared...everything. We learned a lot from each other to help us grow as teachers, but I never expected we'd be as close as we became. Without their support, I don't know that I would have survived Institute. These people pulled me through a week of strep throat, shared my successes in the classroom, and made the print lab the place to be at 2 AM. We never fought with each other, we worked together, laughed together, learned together--everything together. When I think about the ideal work environment, I think of Room 19 and how we functioned there.

It wasn't all professional, though. These people became my closest teacher friends. It'll be tough to not have everyone with me in NOLA this fall--but I think it'll be an awesome Thanksgiving this year. :)

My plane is boarding! New Orleans, here I come!

oh, so this is what sleep feels like!

2009-07-15T07:58:00.002-05:00

It's the last week of Institute so OF COURSE I finally got in the groove of this whole planning a million lessons thing. The past three days I've been able to get to bed BEFORE MIDNIGHT! I'm a whole new person.

Today I'm teaching my last reading block in Arizona. Not going to lie--I'm going to miss my students. It's hard to not be emotionally invested. I've watched them grow so much this summer! I want to see them through the rest of junior high. Alas, I'll be returning to NOLA in three days to get my life sorted out.

Once Institute is over, I'll update with a real post. :)

half-way

2009-07-03T13:08:00.003-05:00

Friday is finally here! Usually I'm at school teaching, but since today's a federal holiday we get the day off--in theory. I have five more lesson plans to hammer out for the rest of my time in Phoenix, parents to call, papers to grade, and a few more sessions to get through (and by a few, I mean a lot). It's nice to not be in sessions all the live long day. Lesson planning is a lot easier when I can be on my own schedule and not have someone breathing down my back to get everything accomplished in 7 minutes or less.

Even though Institute hasn't been the best experience in the world, I can say with 100% confidence that my 6th graders are incredible. It's unbelievable how quickly I fell in love with each of them and their quirky, complicated personalities. I think I could teach the 6th grade forever. It's such a formative time in their lives, a time when they start acting and thinking like adults and taking ownership of their actions. Our teaching team stresses the importance of making good decisions with our students. They know that they choose how the day is going to work. If they stay focused, it's a good day with fun activities and happy teachers. If they choose to be chatterboxes, they know the consequences that parallel that behavior. So far their choices reflect their true desire to learn.

When I'm presenting new material to them and we get to do a fun guided practice, it's so awesome to watch their little faces light up when they understand something! I feel like I'm really making a difference here. Your work reflects in everything they do--from how they speak with one another, their homework, their attitudes. It's the most motivating thing in the world.

Now that it's the weekend, I'm trying to be as productive as possible...pool side. Sure, it's kind of pathetic that I'm sitting next to a pool doing lesson plans, but it's better than sitting at my desk. Or sitting in a classroom. And if I decide I want to be social, I can jump in the water and hang out with the other TFA people who are dutifully ignoring the looming, continually growing to-do list.

I wish I had more time to really explore Phoenix. Arizona is a gorgeous state. The entire city is in a valley of mountains. They're the backdrop of my school's campus, they surround ASU--it's so scenic and wonderful. The only places I've been able to visit are some random campus bars in a pathetic attempt to be social. The people I've met so far are pretty awesome.

I have two more weeks until I'm back in NOLA. I'm oddly excited to be back and I'm even more excited to get teaching!

Now, about that pool... :)

longest week of my life--and not because michael jackson died

2009-06-25T21:08:00.002-05:00

I guess I'm officially a teacher. My first full week with my 6th graders is over and I'm full steam ahead with the rest of Institute.

Let me tell you--this is not for the weak.

We consistently pull 16 hour days, most times working straight through lunch and dinner. We lesson plan, lesson plan, lesson plan, write assessments, and oh--did I mention we lesson plan? In fact, we lesson plan so much, sometimes I catch myself using TFA lingo in the non-teacher areas of my life. Like, wondering how else I can "maximize efficiency" in the cafeteria and if it's possible to somehow make "significant gains" when doing my laundry.

People are probably upset with me because I've had very little time to maintain personal relationships--but I promise it's not because I don't miss everyone desperately or because I am so glad to have escaped Chicago. Literally, every second of every day of my summer is planned out. Every. Single. Second. I practically have to schedule time to sleep or I won't do it.

This has lead to numerous problems, namely strep throat and an ear infection.

This week, in my very first week as an educator, I contracted some type of a death disease that wiped me out. After I taught my 90 min. reading block to my 6th graders, I wanted to curl up in a ball and die. My stomach was all sorts of unhappy--I couldn't keep food or liquid in my body, I couldn't sleep because I was so miserable, and I definitely couldn't focus on my lesson plans upon lesson plans.

So, I broke down.

It was humiliating to have a sob-fest in the teacher's lounge because my body just couldn't take any more. Thankfully people were wonderfully understanding and allowed me to take the rest of the day to go to the doctor. And it's a good thing I did. I would have spread strep throat around to all of the teachers in my collaboration group and beyond--and that would have been tragic.

I took the day after my doctor visit to sleep...19 hours. I tried to wake myself up to do lesson plans, but after the third time of attempting to peel myself out of bed, I gave in to the pillows. It just wasn't going to happen. And I can't begin to explain the enormous amount of guilt I had that I slept instead of doing all the work I needed to do to close the achievement gap in Arizona (there I go with the TFA speak again)! And I missed my kids. And for the first time ever, I realized I'm doing something that I love even if it's super, super hard and super, super stressful.

Today, after pumping my body full of antibiotics, I feel like a whole new person. A tired new person, but my spirits are revitalized. My collaboration group had the kids make me Get Well Soon cards and I'm pretty sure that's what made all the difference. One of the kids told me I was the best teacher he had ever had--and I almost cried.

All I want to do is love these children and watch them succeed. They're so great--each and every one of them--and I know they have the potential to do SO MUCH. Watching their little faces light up every time they finally get something, every time that little light bulb flashes on, makes all the hours of lesson planning, frustrated tears, strep throat and ear infections so worth it.

So incredibly worth it.

New goal: never miss breakfast

2009-06-16T08:13:00.002-05:00

My life has changed very abruptly. I'm in Phoenix for the most intense training of my life and it's under no exaggeration I have set my new goal.

Having a 8-5 job has certainly helped with this transition. I'm used to waking up early and have to make myself look presentable, but I'm not used to working myself ragged. I wake up at 5AM, run through breakfast, pray I don't the bus, and the rest of the day is TFA stuff. After TFA stuff, we come back to campus and do more TFA stuff. Tomorrow my first lesson plans are due--which means I won't be able to sleep until at least midnight.

The day before I didn't get to bed until 2 AM because I was finishing an assignment. I woke up at 5, had to print my assignment--but then I didn't get breakfast.

HOLY HUNGER.

I thought I was going to eat someone's arm. It was bad.

Today I woke up with enough time to eat, and I fell asleep at 9:30 last night. I'm a completely new person today.

Bring. It. On.

turns out, I wasn't dreaming

2009-06-09T08:29:00.003-05:00

After 18 hours of driving, I'm finally in New Orleans! I've been trying to log into my email account, but for some reason the hotel's internet won't let me connect to Gmail or Facebook--I'll be leaving here shortly to scout out a coffee shop that will allow me to access my life.

First, I'll tell you that yesterday I:

-drove through 5 states :Kentucky, Tennessee, Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana. That's a lot of America. To get into New Orleans, you have to cross a 10 mile bridge completely surrounded by bayou. It's quite possibly the creepiest thing I've ever seen at night--I kind of want to drive back that way so I can see it in the light, but I won't have time until after my training in Phoenix.

-sweet talked my way into an incredible rate at an incredible hotel in downtown New Orleans. I'm in the heart of the Business District. This skyline isn't even comparable to Chicago's, but it has a rustic beauty that's growing on me.

-had my first Gulf seafood dinner. And it was delicious. I'm looking forward to cheap fish and shrimp!

-visited the University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa. Even though Cara spoke so highly of the campus, I was surprised at how beautiful it is! I also never realized how rich in history UA is. If you get the chance, take a stroll around the University. All the buildings are brick, beautiful and everything stereotypical about Southern charm. Though, I'd caution you to drive very carefully. I witnessed a few accidents within 10 minutes of each other. Yikes.

-knew I'd be okay in the South when I heard "Benny and the Jets" playing on the overhead radio at the gas station in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. I was so worried when I got out of the car, but how bad could it possibly be when Elton John is plunking away at the piano?

-was warned that I'm in for a rough round with New Orleans public schools. One of the hotel staff looked at me in horror when I informed him I was moving here to teach. He told me he hoped I make friends fast because "I'll need them." Only slightly nerve-wrecking. The achievement gap is more real than I believe it to be.

After I dropped Cara off at home, I drove the last 4 hour stint realizing I'm on a mission: New Orleans will change for the better. Seeing that so many people are dedicating the next few years of their lives to this place, more specifically, to these children, it's going to be a better city with better schools than on this Tuesday morning.

There are still so many unknowns and so many components to this new life that are up in the air. Even though it seems like all the odds are against me to be successful here, I'm ready to roll up my sleeves and get to work. I haven't been this motivated in awhile--2 years is going to fly by.

A teary-eyed goodbye to sweet home Chicago

2009-06-07T23:41:00.002-05:00

At 11 this morning I drove away from my house and started my long voyage to New Orleans. I only cried a little bit (and by a little, I mean I sobbed until I hit 55), which is kind of surprising because I figured I'd be more extreme than that. After filling my gas tank and making $13 bucks at Burger King, we jumped on the highway and began the most epic road trip of all time.

Oh, you want to know how we made money? People who work at the Burger King in Joliet are dumb. They forgot to give me my change, so when I asked for my cash, the girl practically threw change for a 20 at me instead of change for a 10. I wanted to be honest and give back what was rightfully theirs, but they forgot to give us a straw for Cara's drink and they slammed the window shut. So, I'll take this opportunity to thank BK for their contribution to my Get to NOLA Gas Fund.

We passed through some interesting places on the drive down to Kentucky, where we are staying overnight. I don't know if my favorite was the drink barn affectionately called "Bottle Junction", the Feed Mill (a restaurant for humans, not hogs), or the John Deere tractor parade that was IL 131. And how could I possibly forget the bathrooms conveniently located OUTSIDE the gas station. WTF, southern Indiana?!

The further we drove, the more I felt liberated from the stress I carried in Chicago. At first I was incredibly sad to leave my city, my friends, my family, and my puppy--but now that we're in Kentucky, I'm feeling a lot more confident about this move, recognizing what a huge accomplishment this is. Starting a new life can't be half bad, especially when I'm supported by all the main characters in previous chapters. I also don't think this would have been as smooth of a transition without Cara, the only person in my life who has spoken so positively of the South and, at many times, demonstrated hospitality only found on this side of the Mason-Dixon.

So far everyone is incredibly nice. Cara's boyfriend's mother welcomed me to Kentucky with a genuine hug. People from the north don't hug one another unless they've been friends for years. As a hugger, I didn't mind the embrace; in fact, her kindness erased any reservations I had about traveling so far from home. We'll see how I'm welcomed in NOLA.

Tomorrow we're driving through Tennessee and Alabama and I'll be in Louisiana by 8 p.m., just in time to report live from the business district, before my life erupts in crazy.

I'll have a lot more to tell by then, and perhaps will post a tribute to someone who has made this past week all kinds of wonderful. :)

Reporting, live, from my mother's basement

2009-06-04T23:46:00.004-05:00

My stuff has exploded across my mother's basement--and while she claims it's the most unorganized disaster she's ever seen, I care to disagree.

Packing for two trips this summer is proving to be more difficult than I anticipated. When you're training in a different city than the one you're moving to everything is oddly complicated. Not only am I completely relocating, but knowing what to take with me to Phoenix is driving me crazy--and the possibility that I won't see the rest of my stuff for MONTHS is daunting.

I have piles. Organized piles. Piles of work clothes. Piles of bedding. Piles of shoes (and, in my defense, I've gotten rid of SEVERAL pair!). Piles I'm flying to Phoenix, and piles that I'm shoving in storage for a month or three this summer in Louisiana. I've lost the motivation to sort through it anymore, so the basement remains a mess. Start praying that the remains fit in my little car--I don't have the cash to send much more UPS south of the Mason-Dixon.

I know I'm voluntarily relocating, but I have to say: this is by far the most ridiculous thing I've ever done. It's starting to hit me that I sold everything I have. Literally. So, I have no furniture, no dishes, etc. What's left is clothes and shoes, school supplies, my TV/DVD combo, books, and the kitchen things I couldn't part with. Oh, and an air mattress. Seriously--what in the world was I thinking when I said, "Suuurrre! Two years in NOLA sounds like a great idea!"?! Maybe it shouldn't be that difficult to pick up and skate out, but in all honesty, I'm not thrilled at this quite abrupt uprooting. It's the prospective opportunities that's keeping me motivated to complete this process.

Even though I'm starting to get a little more nervous, I know it's going to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I can't believe I was chosen to be a part of this program, and even more than that, that I'll be living in an area I'd never choose to live in otherwise. I can't wait to meet new people and try new things--my life needs some spice.

And I keep reminding myself: you can take the girl out of Chicago, but you can't take Chicago out of the girl. I'm glad this place loves me enough to let me go for a few years...with the understanding I'll be back for frequent visits. :)

down to hours

2009-05-27T17:47:00.003-05:00

I'm sitting in my little corner of the office, typing a post for the last time from this computer. My entire desk is empty and cleaned off. The air is heavy with unanswered emails and unnecessary air conditioning.

It's amazing to me that in two days I've dedicated 2 years to this company. I feel like I've been chained to this computer for an eternity and 10 minutes. I'm as unsettled here as I am comfortable. Strange, huh? Now I'm in the homestretch--16 hours left before I hit the road running for New Orelans. I cannot believe the past few weeks have flown by so quickly!

For as much as I've complained about this job, there are quite a few things I'll miss. There are plenty of nice people who work here and plenty of people who, without a doubt, have gone out of their way to welcome me in this environment. The familiarity is nice. I like knowing what tomorrow will bring, even if 99% of the time I'm bored. Though I'm not challenged, I am good at my job. I print those labels with pride! ;) Honestly, I like the confidence I have when I walk in the door, knowing that I can do anything that's given to me with ease and minimal stress.

After reading my older blog posts and personal journal entries, I can see how much I've grown right here at this keyboard. I'm not the same person I was two years ago--I like to believe I have higher, more focused goals. I think I know what I want to do with my career. I finally have direction.

That's all I've ever wanted, right? I've been looking for the "right way" for years now, hoping it'd just fall in my lap so I could clutch it and run for dear life. Now I supposedly have what I've been looking for. And as I look at my empty drawers and blank walls, I'm a little panicked that my big adventure is right around the corner.

I've never felt so unprepared.

memorial

2009-05-25T14:35:00.003-05:00

That is the USS Reuben James. The ship was torpedoed and sunk on October 31, 1941, making it the first US Navy ship to be sunk in World War II. My uncle was on the boat when it got hit. He was a second class seaman in the Navy. It took his life at the young age of 21.

Even though I never knew him, I'm inspired by his dedication and service to our country. His willingness to be a part of something bigger than himself and to give his life for something he supported and believed in is admirable, courageous and, more than anything, inspiring.

For as liberal as I come across, I have a deep respect for our military because they're doing something that I could never do. So on Memorial Day, not only do I remember and honor the numerous men in my family who have served, but I also commend the people I know in the military now--the ones who never fail to amaze me with their dedication and strength to do what is just and good.

Priorities

2009-05-15T15:18:00.004-05:00

So, the countdown for New Orleans has reached the three week mark (!!!) and my planner is suffocated in multi-colored, sticky noted "to-do" lists. However satisfying it is to check off tasks and daunting paperwork, this whole process tastes like stale crackers. Unsalted, stale crackers.

The move is becoming a more colorful, vivid reality--but it's still enough of a dream that my mind wanders, conjuring up questions and drafting scenarios which will, most assuredly, end up in a book or on Categories of Crazy (hopefully debuting soon!).

Most recently, on this boring Friday, I've composed a list of things I MUST KNOW/ACCOMPLISH. I'll cut myself some slack and allow the full two years of my assignment to search out answers. Please let me know if you have other questions, general wonderments, or suggestions for southern fun regarding my new home. these questions could possibly end up presenting a fun anecdote for my future "newsletter"--name TBD.

Here's my list so far:

1.) What's the difference between Cajun and Creole, anyway? I want to experience this first hand, not read about it on Wikipedia.

2.) How many different ways do people pronounce "Orleans"? Is it as offensive to say "New Or-leens" as it is to pronounce Illinois "Illin-oize"?

3.) People keep making me promise to not do anything flashy for Mardi Gras beads (pun intended). Who is the distributor of these coveted strings of beaded joy? And just how creative do I have to be in order to build my inevitable collection? (How excited would y'all be to get AUTHENTIC MARDI GRAS BEADS for CHRISTMAS?!--and yes, I said "y'all". It's called assimilation.)

4.) Bayou boats. Must ride on a Bayou boat, preferably with a guy named Bubba. The bigger the fan, the better.

5.) How fast do you have to run in zig-zags to avoid being eaten by an alligator? Not that I want this to happen. I just want to be prepared.

6.) What do I have to do to convince Trader Joe's to set up shop somewhere in the vicinity of my apartment?

7.) Chicago jazz vs. New Orleans jazz--what's the story?

I can't think of anything else right now, but in the upcoming weeks I'm sure my list will grow exponentially. Feel free to contribute!

a somewhat serious cornucopia

2009-05-06T10:15:00.006-05:00

As I'm preparing for my big move to New Orleans (which I'll get into in a little bit), I've been particularly nostalgic. Today marks the 2-year anniversary of my college graduation, and since I still function in terms of semesters, I thought it appropriate for some reflection. If my grandpa is right in saying, "the older we get, the quicker years slip through our fingers" I want to make certain I commemorate each year in such a way I can appreciate what's been given to me, how I've grown, what I've learned, and have a more fundamental understanding of where I want to be in the next year. I'll break it down in 3 parts--peruse at your own risk.

Professional Development: It really is what you make of it.
I allowed myself to fall into a funk with work. After a series of unfortunate events, I realized I didn't have a future with this company. Knowing that no matter how much effort you put into your job that there will be little pay-off is one major killer of motivation. Once I found out things here weren't going to happen the way I thought they would, I completely checked out.

Like, barely accomplishing anything on a daily basis. And caring even less.

When this negative attitude took root in my work performance, it started impacting other areas of my life. I watched myself deteriorate in so many ways--it drove me to a therapist. Week after week I complained that I had no purpose in life, that I printed labels and wrote "fill-in-the-blank" press releases, that I was capable of so much more, blah blah blah. I wrote it off as depression (and in a lot of ways, I did lose to depression), but really, had I taken a different approach, 2008 could have been a much better year. If I had dedicated as much time to creating opportunity here as I did complaining about my situation, I could have tolerated this place a little better.

It's true that I've far outgrown my current position, but truth be told, I probably could have gotten a lot more out of this job had I set and maintained higher standards for myself. In school I was always challenged and it was easy to have lofty goals--there was always something more you could learn. In the workplace, I learned that everyone thinks they know a lot. And everyone believes their experience is superior to anything a newcomer has to offer. It's every man for himself after college graduation, and people are more than happy to walk all over you if it benefits them in any way. I guess that's probably true in a lot of other venues, but it's particularly noticeable in a corporate setting. The lack of accountability is astounding.

For the most part, I did learn a lot here. I can navigate the ropes of office politics, I think I understand professional formalities, and how to juggle multiple personalities in an office setting. All of these things will be useful in my next endeavor.

I've always known I wanted a job where I'd be able to see measurable results and a job where I felt I was truly needed to make a difference. While, given more time and a little more direction, I could have been successful in PR, I learned that it's just not for me. I can't be tied to a desk all the time, sitting in front of a computer for hours and hours and hours. I want to have more interaction with others, be rooted in a community and give back. I want to use my strengths to give others hope. My fulfillment comes from my ability to serve--it always has.

So, if you've followed my blog at all, you'll know that I applied to Teach For America. And for those of you who know me in person, you'll know that I accepted a position to teach secondary special education in New Orleans, Louisiana.

The application process allowed me to write all of my accomplishments, goals/aspirations and see what I'm really capable of. I've never been one to "toot my own horn"--but for the first time since graduation I was proud of myself for doing so much at such a young age. I realized that no one else will ever willingly recognize what you've done unless you can recognize those things yourself. And, in certain circumstances, it's okay to openly take credit for being successful. After all, I worked hard for what I earned--I should make the most of it so I can make my life what I want it to be.

In leaving my current position, I know that I want to be in education some how. I've always been passionate about learning and helping others learn. I truly believe education is what carries us through life--not money, not friends, not luck. We are left to make of our situation what we will. And it's with that frame of mind I move to New Orleans to tackle a new challenge and write the next chapter of my life.

The conductor of the Engagement Train is looking at me, yelling, "ALL ABOARD!"
I feel like Noah. All of my friends are walking two-by-two down the aisle and I'm hanging out on the Ark, soon to be the only single person offering an obligatory round of applause. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for my friends getting married; but, I'm sooooooooo not in that place. Not even close.

Two years out of college and I can count all of my single friends on ONE HAND. This year I'll be 24--I love that I'm finally in a place where the world is full of opportunities and I can finally take ownership of my life. I love that I'm not accountable or responsible to or for anyone else. I love being selfish.

I'm sure, to some, that makes me a bitch. I don't care.

Honestly, it seems silly to me that I wasted so much time obsessing over why I'm not in a relationship. When I look back and really assess how I live my life, it's pretty obvious I, in no way, wanted a serious boyfriend. This year was so much fun--I went out, met new people, and enjoyed time spent with friends. There were times I wanted some sort of companionship, but the thought of giving so much of my time to another person and not taking the opportunity to experience different areas of the country (or the world, if all goes according to my grand plan to teach in South Africa and/or Poland in 2 summers) is absolutely suffocating.

Maybe that feeling stems from the fact I haven't met anyone worthy of that much of my time. However, willingly sacrificing my early twenties for anyone is not at the top of my priority list. I'm still learning how to love myself, in spite of all my beautiful complications, let alone being able to honestly say and uphold "for better or worse."

I also think that when I am ready for a relationship I'll have a lot more to offer. Right now, relationships seem to be so dramatic because we're still young and figuring out what we want. I want to take my time and do things right--I've already suffered at the expense of my parents' divorce. I refuse to suffer through one of my own, especially if it's caused by resentment and rushing into things just for the sake of not being alone.

A few words of advice for those about to take on their own living expenses:
I survived a year in Chicago and it breaks my heart that I have to leave a place I've grown to love so much. But, if I had to do things over again, here's what I'd do different:

I would have been more patient when choosing an apartment. My apartment was wonderful, but for what we paid, we could have had a place where the radiators worked properly, a dishwasher and a functioning doorbell/intercom system. For the most part, I thought my place was great! After we put up some decorations, it felt cozy-comfy-home-like. Things went well for the majority of the year; however, there were some things we should have done to insure we had a good experience through and through:

When I move into an apartment in NOLA, I'll be taking pictures of EVERYTHING. The walls, the floors, the insides of closets, the bathroom(s), kitchen--EVERYTHING. We didn't do that this year, and if we had, we wouldn't have been forced to paint all the walls of our place when we moved out. There was a clause in our lease that broadly defined"wall damage." As a result, anywhere we hung a picture had to be repainted. And if the paint didn't match the rest of the wall, the entire wall had to be painted. If that wall didn't match the rest of the walls, every wall had to be painted. You know what this little scenario is: a picture-perfect rip off. In Chicago, after a tenant moves out, the landlord is required to paint the unit before renting it again. We're allowed reasonable "wear and tear" on the walls; but because of our lease, we would have lost a legal battle. Someday I'll be able to laugh about this. I hope.
I want to lease through a management company. As nice as it was to not have a credit check when we moved into our apartment, it really hurt us in the long-run. Now, using her as a point of reference is near impossible because it didn't show up on my credit report that I paid my bills on time. And, to add to that, our landlord took everything personally. If we complained about the radiators, she thought we hated her property. When we told her we were moving out, she cried giant crocodile tears. This is the one way impersonal business is effective--no harm in moving out once a contract is expired.
I would have quit my job and truly enjoyed every aspect of city living. I should have decided a long time ago to leave this place and do something in the city instead of holding out for an opportunity I would have been half-excited over. I didn't take full advantage of everything Chicago had to offer--but that's not to say I didn't experience a great deal. :)

I leave for New Orleans in a few weeks. When I start my new job, I won't be posting as frequently here (not that I posted a lot to begin with) because of confidentiality contracts I signed with Americorps and Teach For America. If you're interested in hearing more about my experience as a teacher, let me know in some way (comments, facebook, email, whatever) and I'll add you to my "NOLA News" email list. When I do post, I'll be writing about life south of the Mason-Dixon line. The fact that I'm moving hasn't really sunk in yet--and when it does, this blog is going to get interesting. Really, really interesting.

surely the christians could have picked a better adjective than "good"

2009-04-10T08:12:00.004-05:00

It's been awhile since I've revisited my Catholic roots; so, in the spirit of the upcoming observance, I'm posting a poem by Sharon Olds that puts the whole clergy bit into perspective. Not to mention, I particularly dislike Pope Benedict XVI.

I never understood what made a pope "holy"--or how the Church could be considered anything better than slightly corrupt. No matter how you look at it, he's just a guy. A plain old, robe wearing, faulty human. The ringleader of other robe-wearers, only considered righteous because people believe he has the hook up with the big JC. Indulgence, anyone?

Though, I suppose I should give credit where credit is due: he has, after all, maintained a lifetime of celibacy.

***
The Pope's Penis

It hangs deep in his robes, a delicate
clapper at the center of a bell.
It moves when he moves, a ghostly fish in a
halo of silver seaweed, the hair
swaying in the dark and the heat--and at night
while his eyes sleep , it stands up
in praise of God.

Reasons to love my current job are few and far between, but here's a good one:

2009-04-09T17:19:00.003-05:00

Working in the community is definitely the highlight of my job. As soon as spring hits, my department is on the road to host numerous events across our footprint--a temporary freedom from the computer. Some of my friends think I'm crazy for actually liking people but honestly: the public is never boring.

Yesterday was our first outdoor community event of the season. Everything went well, even in spite of the wind and rain forecast. This particular event catered to our senior citizen members. These members can make an appointment to discuss traffic safety issues, and other closely related topics, with our roadway experts, allowing us to address their needs in a very hands-on manner. Seniors love this event. It gives them an opportunity to interact with "young folks" (as I'm often told) and to re-establish confidence behind the wheel.

One little Old Lady in particular was a delight to work with (sense the tone). She suffered from arthritis and had a few questions regarding driving performance. I was assigned to address her needs, walk her through a 15 minute "yes-or-no" checklist and answer her questions to the best of my ability.

This 15 minutes turned into an hour.

ONE.
WHOLE.
HOUR.

And that one. whole. hour. was, hands down, the highlight of this week.

She showed up for her appointment about 30 minutes early, which is fairly typical--but she refused to sign any of the documentation required for the event. I tried reasoning with this little Old Lady, explaining it was necessary she sign the papers before I continued the program. She didn't care. She asked that I "hypothetically" walked her through the procedure before she made her decision to sign a waiver of any kind. I obliged.

So here I am, "hypothetically" asking her routine questions--and instead of cooperating with me for this "hypothetical," voluntary program, she responds with, "What do you need to know this for? Wow, you're a nosy bugger--does your boss know you're making these recommendations? And speaking of your boss, does he know that it took me 45-minutes to get across town yesterday? Can't he talk to the mayor about this terrible traffic?! I'm 76 years old, I don't want to deal with this, blah blah blah blah blah!" after every question.

I've been blessed with an ability to maintain composure in such situations, so I took her comments in stride, assuring her I'd pass along her complaints. Anything to keep people happy, right?

BUT! remember how I said she was, hands down, the highlight of my week? Here's why:

After this one. whole. hour. passes by, I finally get to tell her about a tool that will make getting in and out of the car a much easier task. I was nearly hugging this little Old Lady so I could move on to the next customer, until she exclaimed, "WOW! THAT'S THE GREATEST THING EVER! YOU JUST SAVED MY LIFE! I'M GOING TO MAKE MY SON ORDER ONE OFF THAT INTERNET THING!" Laughing, I wrote down the information for her to take home. And this was the conversation that followed:

me: "Here you are ma'am. I'm sure he'll be able to find the product easily. Do you have any other questions for me?"

OL: "Yes, one more--then I'll move along. What do you do if you're driving and suddenly end up in water?"

Me: "Well, if you come across a flooded road, it's best to come to a complete stop and avoid driving through the water. If you're driving and you're afraid of hydroplaning, the best thing to do is take your foot of the accelerator and grip the wheel firmly with both hands..."

OL: "No. You don't understand. Let's say I'm driving along and then OOPS! I end up in a pond. What do I do?"

Me: "...um. I don't know I've ever been in this situation..."

OL: "You're a driving expert! Do I need to break my window?"

Me: "I'm not sure of the correct thing to do. May I ask why you're curious about this issue?"

OL: "I want my son to buy me that thing-a-majig you showed me--I'm compiling a list of practical reasons for him to get it for me in my head. It can break windows, right?"

Me: "It... most likely could?"

OL: "Okay, great. That's all I needed to know. I just like to be fully prepared for all driving scenarios."

Mind you, I was in INDIANA. SOUTH of Lake Michigan--and believe me when I tell you there were no ponds within a 30 mile radius of this town. She did sign the papers and promised to refer her friends to my expertise. I waved as she peeled out of the parking lot. The only thing that could have made this experience better was if she was listening to Nelly at full throttle, bass pumping as she put on her Blublockers.

I can only hope something like this happens everyday until my time here is finished.

34.5 days to go!