A beautiful lush green lawn requires ample time and resources. Why waste water and money on a carpet of green? This question regularly baffles me. That same water could be hydrating nutritious produce or gorgeous flowers.
Lawns and the various perils that could lead to its demise were topics of conversation at driveway parties in middle class suburbia. When one neighbor fired up their lawn mower it triggered a chain reaction until the whole street was on board. I have a jphoto that shows four lawns being mowed at once
I thought this lawn mowing infectiousness was middle class silliness. However I was with my family in a low-income neighborhood where the lawns were neglected. Perhaps the residents have more pressing problems than pretty little flowers that dot brown lawns. Yet when my family commenced an ambitious lawn revitalization project a neighbor followed suit that very night.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
In Summary
It's been a goodly while since I last wrote. The things I've learned and done are many so I'll give a general recap. I've decided to revive weekly blogging. Time was more abundant when I started this, but I really enjoy it and so I will make time.
- School ended and there is much more I want to contribute. I remind myself that "people come into our lives for reasons and seasons." Hopefully others will come along and help my students through their journey. Initially I was certain that teaching was not in my future. Now I'm considering it.
- I spent 6 weeks doing conservation in the Mark Twain National Forest. It was beautiful! Mostly I stayed in cabins, but one week I camped out. I survived ticks and 100 degree weather by reminding myself that I was in training for travels in Africa. I learned about plants and bugs. I swam in great places and saw pretty views. Most importantly I feel better prepared for future adventures I've been plotting.
- I start a new AmeriCorps position on September 7th. this time I'll be with Sea Mar as an Arts Empowerment Educator. Two days a week I'll be at a drug treatment facility for adolescent men. Two days a week I'll be connecting Alzheimers patients with the child development center. In both cases the goal is to use creativity as a means to heal and educate. Every Friday there will be a training. I'm hoping this new opportunity will lead to clarity about a career path.
- I love Mike, and he's moving to Seattle in October. This too will undoubtedly provide many opportunities to grow.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Woodward
I've been tutoring 3rd graders at Woodward Elementary School in the Saint Louis public school system since October. There are only 20 precious school days left with my kids. Similar to my teaching experience in France I haven't blogged about school because I've been trying to understand. Alas, I still have more questions than answers, but its time to say something.
My school is, comparatively, a very good school. The principal is awesome, and I can only think of 4 teachers I'd like to fire for verbally abusing children. In a school system that lost accreditation a few years ago and where horror stories are the norm, Woodward is a veritable gem. Most of the kids who have been raised up at Woodward are on grade level. This speaks volumes to the quality of staff there.
I tutor 9 students and all but two come from other schools that were closed. Many of the transfer students don't have records. My teammates all have a large amount of transfer students. There are 4 AmeriCorps Members on a team, one Member for each grade K-3. Another major trend amongst our kids is a high level of English as a second language learners. (ELLs) Five of my nine are not native English speakers. All of those five are transfers from failing schools. ELLs are especially needy of a quality school because their parents are frequently incapable of helping them with homework.
Clearly the quality of the school and the teacher are key ingredients to a child's education. This is particularly true when the school is serving some the the poorest kids in the country.
After a field trip I took one of my kids home because nobody came for him and nobody answered the phone. An adult cousin answered the door when I dropped off my student. He was visibly high. I talked to my student's teacher about this and she wasn't surprised. She said Woodward has been good for my student and his brother. She said when they came to Woodward the boys were a mess.
In the case of this particular student it is twice as important that school is a loving, nurturing place where a plethora of life experience is gained. A few students are slower to learn because they are neglected at home. A child can't learn effectively if they don't first feel loved and safe. Schools that serve poor students are often charged with providing life experiences that a child would normally get at home. A few examples of simple things some students have never done are, seeing chickens, counting, paying for things, cooking, and going on the highway. These things are educational and provide a foundation to build on and reference to, yet many students have big experience gaps thus they learn slower because more information needs to be given.
My school is, comparatively, a very good school. The principal is awesome, and I can only think of 4 teachers I'd like to fire for verbally abusing children. In a school system that lost accreditation a few years ago and where horror stories are the norm, Woodward is a veritable gem. Most of the kids who have been raised up at Woodward are on grade level. This speaks volumes to the quality of staff there.
I tutor 9 students and all but two come from other schools that were closed. Many of the transfer students don't have records. My teammates all have a large amount of transfer students. There are 4 AmeriCorps Members on a team, one Member for each grade K-3. Another major trend amongst our kids is a high level of English as a second language learners. (ELLs) Five of my nine are not native English speakers. All of those five are transfers from failing schools. ELLs are especially needy of a quality school because their parents are frequently incapable of helping them with homework.
Clearly the quality of the school and the teacher are key ingredients to a child's education. This is particularly true when the school is serving some the the poorest kids in the country.
After a field trip I took one of my kids home because nobody came for him and nobody answered the phone. An adult cousin answered the door when I dropped off my student. He was visibly high. I talked to my student's teacher about this and she wasn't surprised. She said Woodward has been good for my student and his brother. She said when they came to Woodward the boys were a mess.
In the case of this particular student it is twice as important that school is a loving, nurturing place where a plethora of life experience is gained. A few students are slower to learn because they are neglected at home. A child can't learn effectively if they don't first feel loved and safe. Schools that serve poor students are often charged with providing life experiences that a child would normally get at home. A few examples of simple things some students have never done are, seeing chickens, counting, paying for things, cooking, and going on the highway. These things are educational and provide a foundation to build on and reference to, yet many students have big experience gaps thus they learn slower because more information needs to be given.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Boston!
And so I did make it to Boston last weekend!
My loving friends, Gina and Cynthia, picked me up with a car share at 1:30 am. We chatted excitedly, left the car in the proper place, and walked to Gina’s house. We sipped coffee, ate, and chatted on the kitchen floor until nearly four in the morning.
After Cynthia and I were tucked-in Gina stayed up in that mysterious way I’ve never understood in order to complete a report. Everyone made it out of bed by noon. I wanted to wake the girls up earlier, but at that point I wasn’t sure how late Gina had been up, and I knew that Cynthia was jet lagged. So I enjoyed the sun pouring in through the two windows, and when I got restless with my own thoughts I plugged into my ipod.
Chatting, laughing, eating, and cuddling, which so richly sums up the entire weekend, continued upon waking. While leisurely sipping hot beverages Gina came to the conclusion that her phone was in the car share, so an announcement was posted and we merrily went about preparing to leave. I wanted to show Gina something I had in my purse, but then I realized that I too had forgotten something in the car. Another post was made on the car share website, and off we went! The three of us were unstressed by our forgotten things. We rationalized that it was no great calamity if the items were no more, and we decided we would probably get them back anyway.
Boston is full of art! Street art everywhere, which gives it a comfortable feel. We visited three different sections of Boston; Jamaica Plain, Dudley, and the Little Italy. All of which were so large that they had their own “downtowns”. I never saw, an apartment complex, although they probably exist somewhere in Boston. Gina lived in a neighborhood that had large multi-family homes that people rented out. They are a much nicer alternative to sprawling, ugly, impersonal apartment complexes. Each neighborhood had its own feel, but they all had interesting visual contrast. There was a nice mix between brick, and siding facades. Lots of the buildings were colorful and had large bay windows. Friday we walked the freedom trail, saw an old cemetery, and saw some of the harbor.
After an amazing meal we went back to Gina’s place to relax and sort out our missing items. Since we hadn’t heard anything, we decided to reserve the car for an hour early Saturday morning and see if our stuff was still there. I checked with the airline about what I should do if I don’t have identification, and contacted my family. Then we kept having fun!
I love these girls! Gina is my best friend ever, and Cynthia is really special. We travel well together. Their perspective on everything is wonderful, but the lost items ordeal really exemplifies how amazing they are. Our day was not ruined and nobody pouted. We created a plan based on what was in our control and then we let it go so that we could enjoy one another.
It is a lot easier for me to keep this kind of perspective when I’m around such strong positive people.
Last week I was disapointed in myself for crying when I showed up to an appointment only to discover that the clinic goofed and they wouldn’t be able to see me. Really, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Nobody sought to frustrate me or let me down. It was a mistake. C’est la vie. Yet as I was calmly telling the receptionist why I was disappointed, and asking her to please speak with those involved my voice quavered and tears fell. I didn’t want to make her feel bad, she hadn’t even made the mistake. The most bewildering thing for me was that I didn’t understand why I was so disappointed. I was missing time with my kids, and I had scheduled carefully, but things change. Roll with it. Goodness! It’s not worth crying about.
When I’m with Gina and Cynthia it’s easier to take trivial disappointments like a lost purse in stride.
In the end we recovered our items and continued with our chatting, laughing, and eating.
I went to college with these girls. We’ve seen each others transformation from awkward freshmen to women. We’ve shared homes together, good times, and hard times. It’s liberating to deconstruct my thought processes with these strong ladies, and get their perspective. It’s exciting to see them reaching for higher degrees, and new opportunities. These women are, creative, wise, reflective, thoughtful, searching, and talented.
My loving friends, Gina and Cynthia, picked me up with a car share at 1:30 am. We chatted excitedly, left the car in the proper place, and walked to Gina’s house. We sipped coffee, ate, and chatted on the kitchen floor until nearly four in the morning.
After Cynthia and I were tucked-in Gina stayed up in that mysterious way I’ve never understood in order to complete a report. Everyone made it out of bed by noon. I wanted to wake the girls up earlier, but at that point I wasn’t sure how late Gina had been up, and I knew that Cynthia was jet lagged. So I enjoyed the sun pouring in through the two windows, and when I got restless with my own thoughts I plugged into my ipod.
Chatting, laughing, eating, and cuddling, which so richly sums up the entire weekend, continued upon waking. While leisurely sipping hot beverages Gina came to the conclusion that her phone was in the car share, so an announcement was posted and we merrily went about preparing to leave. I wanted to show Gina something I had in my purse, but then I realized that I too had forgotten something in the car. Another post was made on the car share website, and off we went! The three of us were unstressed by our forgotten things. We rationalized that it was no great calamity if the items were no more, and we decided we would probably get them back anyway.
Boston is full of art! Street art everywhere, which gives it a comfortable feel. We visited three different sections of Boston; Jamaica Plain, Dudley, and the Little Italy. All of which were so large that they had their own “downtowns”. I never saw, an apartment complex, although they probably exist somewhere in Boston. Gina lived in a neighborhood that had large multi-family homes that people rented out. They are a much nicer alternative to sprawling, ugly, impersonal apartment complexes. Each neighborhood had its own feel, but they all had interesting visual contrast. There was a nice mix between brick, and siding facades. Lots of the buildings were colorful and had large bay windows. Friday we walked the freedom trail, saw an old cemetery, and saw some of the harbor.
After an amazing meal we went back to Gina’s place to relax and sort out our missing items. Since we hadn’t heard anything, we decided to reserve the car for an hour early Saturday morning and see if our stuff was still there. I checked with the airline about what I should do if I don’t have identification, and contacted my family. Then we kept having fun!
I love these girls! Gina is my best friend ever, and Cynthia is really special. We travel well together. Their perspective on everything is wonderful, but the lost items ordeal really exemplifies how amazing they are. Our day was not ruined and nobody pouted. We created a plan based on what was in our control and then we let it go so that we could enjoy one another.
It is a lot easier for me to keep this kind of perspective when I’m around such strong positive people.
Last week I was disapointed in myself for crying when I showed up to an appointment only to discover that the clinic goofed and they wouldn’t be able to see me. Really, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Nobody sought to frustrate me or let me down. It was a mistake. C’est la vie. Yet as I was calmly telling the receptionist why I was disappointed, and asking her to please speak with those involved my voice quavered and tears fell. I didn’t want to make her feel bad, she hadn’t even made the mistake. The most bewildering thing for me was that I didn’t understand why I was so disappointed. I was missing time with my kids, and I had scheduled carefully, but things change. Roll with it. Goodness! It’s not worth crying about.
When I’m with Gina and Cynthia it’s easier to take trivial disappointments like a lost purse in stride.
In the end we recovered our items and continued with our chatting, laughing, and eating.
I went to college with these girls. We’ve seen each others transformation from awkward freshmen to women. We’ve shared homes together, good times, and hard times. It’s liberating to deconstruct my thought processes with these strong ladies, and get their perspective. It’s exciting to see them reaching for higher degrees, and new opportunities. These women are, creative, wise, reflective, thoughtful, searching, and talented.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Fly Like An Eagle
The sound of a snap that seemed to rush backward and something hovering in my periphery caused me to look up from my book. I was greeted by three oxygen masks, and suddenly the extra popping in my ears made sense. The whole affaire seemed suspiciously void of urgency; as if someone had let them loose as a joke. The bright yellow masks bounced around on curly cords like party hats dangling from the ceiling. Only, nobody was impressed with the joke and awkward silence left no room for laughter. I grabbed a mask and calmly untangled the elastic band from the cup and put it on.
After I got myself sorted out I glanced at my neighbor to the left, he was breathing deeply as if trying extra hard to stay calm. I smiled at him, and his smile told me he was alright. Then we both glanced at the crew who seemed tranquil. I looked behind me, concerned about potential panickers, and hoping that they had a hand to hold. As airline seats disrupt the view more than two rows back I contented myself to re-examine my own oxygen mask, which was inflating. I’ve heard the speech enough to know that inflation is not to be expected. Another quick look around revealed that my mask was the only special one. I decided that I was probably okay and entertained myself by squeezing out the oxygen and watching it refill. Then, wishing I had a hand to hold, I pulled out a letter I carry in my purse and read it.
Meanwhile a flight attendant had completed a check of everyone in the cabin, so I could only assume that all was well. As she was taking her seat the pilot confirmed this with a much anticipated announcement that everything was okay. This announcement was later followed by the news that the internal pressurizer could not keep up with the rapid change in altitude, thus the masks had dropped, just as they should. He informed us that oxygen masks were no longer necessary as he had decended to 9,000 feet where the air contains plenty of oxygen. Apparently it is unacceptable to fly for any significant duration at 9,000 feet so we went back to Saint Louis where another plane was waiting to whisk as off to Boston.
After the last announcement people tentatively took off their masks and the gentle rumble of conversation banished the awkward silence. I again looked behind me, and my neighbor said “Well, now we have a story to tell.” To which I confessed my long held desire for the masks to fall. Upon overhearing this, the other woman sitting behind me looked visibly horrified. I felt no remorse. Check. One more thing off my list.
As we were boarding the next plane, it was clear that this small danger brought everyone together in a pseudo incipient community. People were a little extra chatty; rehashing the event, making jokes, and sharing feelings. During the next safety speech everyone clapped when the flight attendant brought out the oxygen mask. At cruising altitude the beverage cart came through and more than the typical amount of alcohol was poured complements of Southwest.
After I got myself sorted out I glanced at my neighbor to the left, he was breathing deeply as if trying extra hard to stay calm. I smiled at him, and his smile told me he was alright. Then we both glanced at the crew who seemed tranquil. I looked behind me, concerned about potential panickers, and hoping that they had a hand to hold. As airline seats disrupt the view more than two rows back I contented myself to re-examine my own oxygen mask, which was inflating. I’ve heard the speech enough to know that inflation is not to be expected. Another quick look around revealed that my mask was the only special one. I decided that I was probably okay and entertained myself by squeezing out the oxygen and watching it refill. Then, wishing I had a hand to hold, I pulled out a letter I carry in my purse and read it.
Meanwhile a flight attendant had completed a check of everyone in the cabin, so I could only assume that all was well. As she was taking her seat the pilot confirmed this with a much anticipated announcement that everything was okay. This announcement was later followed by the news that the internal pressurizer could not keep up with the rapid change in altitude, thus the masks had dropped, just as they should. He informed us that oxygen masks were no longer necessary as he had decended to 9,000 feet where the air contains plenty of oxygen. Apparently it is unacceptable to fly for any significant duration at 9,000 feet so we went back to Saint Louis where another plane was waiting to whisk as off to Boston.
After the last announcement people tentatively took off their masks and the gentle rumble of conversation banished the awkward silence. I again looked behind me, and my neighbor said “Well, now we have a story to tell.” To which I confessed my long held desire for the masks to fall. Upon overhearing this, the other woman sitting behind me looked visibly horrified. I felt no remorse. Check. One more thing off my list.
As we were boarding the next plane, it was clear that this small danger brought everyone together in a pseudo incipient community. People were a little extra chatty; rehashing the event, making jokes, and sharing feelings. During the next safety speech everyone clapped when the flight attendant brought out the oxygen mask. At cruising altitude the beverage cart came through and more than the typical amount of alcohol was poured complements of Southwest.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
MLK Day!
January is gone in a hustle and a bustle. The highlight of the month is Martin Luther King Day. The Federal Way partnered with several organizations across town to organize a synergistic day of service that comprised several projects around town.
I was at a Dunbar Middle school which was located in a neighborhood that looked like a ghost town. We were tasked with painting:
· A hallway
· An office
· A gym
In the end the 125 volunteers painted:
· 2 hallways
· An office
· A gym
· The lunchroom
· A bathroom
· Cleaned a chaotic room disheveled by flood.
· Picked up trash.
The volunteers were mostly youth part of a group called Jack and Jill which are mothers and children who come together to socialize while serving and learning. We also had Teach For America folks, college students, and us AmeriCorps folks.
It was really powerful to see how much we accomplished in 4 hours. It all came together so quickly. The cost and time expenditure on the same project would have been enormous if it had been undertaken at market value. Time is a phenomenal resource. All these 125 people gave was 4 hours. No money, no supplies, just their beautiful hands.
Now the students at Dunbar Middle School have a bright clean learning environment. Many studies have explored the connection between attractive, dynamic environments and positive learning outcomes. I hope that the students at Dunbar will feel a little more cared about; I hope they will find school more pleasant, and I hope they will overcome the odds against them.
I was at a Dunbar Middle school which was located in a neighborhood that looked like a ghost town. We were tasked with painting:
· A hallway
· An office
· A gym
In the end the 125 volunteers painted:
· 2 hallways
· An office
· A gym
· The lunchroom
· A bathroom
· Cleaned a chaotic room disheveled by flood.
· Picked up trash.
The volunteers were mostly youth part of a group called Jack and Jill which are mothers and children who come together to socialize while serving and learning. We also had Teach For America folks, college students, and us AmeriCorps folks.
It was really powerful to see how much we accomplished in 4 hours. It all came together so quickly. The cost and time expenditure on the same project would have been enormous if it had been undertaken at market value. Time is a phenomenal resource. All these 125 people gave was 4 hours. No money, no supplies, just their beautiful hands.
Now the students at Dunbar Middle School have a bright clean learning environment. Many studies have explored the connection between attractive, dynamic environments and positive learning outcomes. I hope that the students at Dunbar will feel a little more cared about; I hope they will find school more pleasant, and I hope they will overcome the odds against them.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Wild Idea!
The other day Stefanie and I had a lovely time ice-skating, then we went to the history museum. There were two special exhibits. One was about the phenomenal and exquisite Katherine Dunham. The other exhibit was about treasure, and it required tickets, which were free for Saint Louis residents. Upon learning that we would be charged as out of town residents; Stef and I thanked the attendant and left without the tickets.
As we were entering the Katherine Dunham exhibit a man gave Stef and I tickets to the treasure exhibit. This Saint Louis resident overheard us asking about the tickets so he requested extra tickets to share with us.
Stefanie and I were happy and surprised by this random act of kindness. We thanked the gentleman as he quickly left. Stef shared my perspective that this sort of wonderful thing happens all the time.
The kind stranger truly made us smile and sparked a conversation about assuming the best about people. Almost nobody sits around conniving to hurt others. Those who do, have psychological problems. I’ve been trying to keep this in mind when I’m upset, though it is so much harder if I’m triggered.
The day after the history museum while doing much wonderful cooking, I could hear the show my sister was watching about Lady Cops. These tuff women described themselves as jaded due to all they’ve seen. In order to protect themselves physically and emotionally cops need to assume the worst.
I mixed what I was hearing on the show with things I’ve heard from the neighborhood cop, then I addeed en my own flowery world view with sprinkles of thought about the prison industrial complex, healing, and social justice. The resulting thought was, “I could be a cop!”
Yes, I too am quite surprised, at the thought synthesis. Being a cop would be a supreme challenge. I’ve had challenges to my world view, but being a cop would be the epitome of challenge. An unchallenged conviction is just a fantasy. I don’t imagine myself as a cop forever, because law enforcement doesn’t seem to be an effective means to address social issues, but I can see myself doing it for 5 years. Oh, yet another idea for my future…
As we were entering the Katherine Dunham exhibit a man gave Stef and I tickets to the treasure exhibit. This Saint Louis resident overheard us asking about the tickets so he requested extra tickets to share with us.
Stefanie and I were happy and surprised by this random act of kindness. We thanked the gentleman as he quickly left. Stef shared my perspective that this sort of wonderful thing happens all the time.
The kind stranger truly made us smile and sparked a conversation about assuming the best about people. Almost nobody sits around conniving to hurt others. Those who do, have psychological problems. I’ve been trying to keep this in mind when I’m upset, though it is so much harder if I’m triggered.
The day after the history museum while doing much wonderful cooking, I could hear the show my sister was watching about Lady Cops. These tuff women described themselves as jaded due to all they’ve seen. In order to protect themselves physically and emotionally cops need to assume the worst.
I mixed what I was hearing on the show with things I’ve heard from the neighborhood cop, then I addeed en my own flowery world view with sprinkles of thought about the prison industrial complex, healing, and social justice. The resulting thought was, “I could be a cop!”
Yes, I too am quite surprised, at the thought synthesis. Being a cop would be a supreme challenge. I’ve had challenges to my world view, but being a cop would be the epitome of challenge. An unchallenged conviction is just a fantasy. I don’t imagine myself as a cop forever, because law enforcement doesn’t seem to be an effective means to address social issues, but I can see myself doing it for 5 years. Oh, yet another idea for my future…
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