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.

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.

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…

Tutoring

December has come, and nearly gone. After a turbulent re-entry to the United Sates I am finally feeling settled into my life here in Saint Louis. It is currently winter break from my tutor position with 3rd graders at Woodward Elementary School.

The last day of school there was a holiday assembly. A 5th grader introduced the goals of the assembly. He expressed gratefulness for living in the United States where every child can go to school and get a free, quality education. These words stung my eyes, and the water works continued as a gym full of innocent, undereducated, underprivileged children stood for “My Country Tis of Thee”. The meritocracy and greatness of this country has never seemed more like indoctrination.

My school isn’t the worst of the worst, but there are kids in every class who can’t read. There are third graders who still don’t know their letters. Kids who qualify for an individualized education plan have a teacher who doesn’t even know what the unique educational needs of their students are. It’s hard to know those needs when the school doesn’t have records to show what those needs are. Who is this glorious free education serving? My education prepared me to be a life-long learner, but the kids in Saint Louis don’t have the same opportunity.

The students are adorable, and they are progressing. All of my kids know their letters now, and they are mastering the basic sight words taught in Kindergarten. Teaching comprehension and writing to those who aren’t as devastatingly behind is more challenging than teaching phonetics to the lower level students. I’m struggling to reach one student who has no motivation even when the subject has been carefully tailored to his interests.

Prior to this service I had a romantic view of passion as contagious. I assumed that my passion for words, letters, and stories, would automatically influence the students to be hypnotized by reading. I don’t write passion off as completely incommunicable, it’s just that these kids have some powerful anti-bodies built up.

Poverty seems harsher here than in the school I worked at in France. My students talk about guns, drugs, and violence. Several of my children have bad breath, and obvious dental problems. Over 90% of children at Woodward eat free breakfast, and lunch at school. The kids don’t have a play ground, and the school is locked. I’ve never been to a school in the States that is locked.

I’m learning and growing, and I’m hoping to help my kids on their path as well. Since September I’ve been reading exclusively children’s literature and pedagogical theory. I suspect this will be my literary diet until the end of my service. I’m sure that even so there is much I need to learn about the skill of imparting knowledge.

And so it is. I try to let it be just like that. Perhaps I’m not as effective as I could be if I were more experienced and trained or if I had more time with the kids. (I regularly fantasize about kidnapping my students and raising them in a carefully constructed dream world.) But I figure there is nothing I can do to hurt these kids, so I patiently cultivate and nurture to the best of my ability.

Anything and Everything!

Last update I expressed my deeply held belief that anything is possible and I provided four freak experiences as evidence. These four events are not the foundation of my adherence to the “anything is possible” theory of life. Indeed an abundance of joyous examples from my life and from the lives of loved ones have convinced me of the truth that anything is possible as well as, “everything is alright”. A few examples…

· Experiences of the 6th sense that make me sure a higher power exists and works through me.
· Traveling to countries I never expected to go to
· Reconnecting with people at just the right time.
· Visiting the apartment of the Peruvian ambassador to Italy.
· People who have helped me catch a bus/train/plane
· Jennifer having kids and getting married.
· The way I was welcomed and taken care of when I went to France.
· All the incredible people who have influenced my life.
· The support I had during the summer, without which I wouldn’t have been able to finish my job.
· Getting close to a wild moose.
· My Grandma surviving stage 4 cancer in the lymphoid.
· My cousins adopting kids.
· My cousins selling, renting, and then building a house despite challenges.
· Graduating college.
· Having a car.

Perhaps some of the events seem mundane or mere luck. Certainly a list does not do these extraordinary events justice, however the afore mentioned things represent the improbable to me. The divine way that things fit exquisitely together. I could list so many more examples from my life and the lives of loved ones, but I think I’ll stop there.

There are beginnings that I’ve had where I was naïve to possible down falls. I struck out full of positivity and innocence. It was only once I was in the midst of the situation that I realized if I had fully thought things through I wouldn’t have made the same choice. The potential for adversity would have paralyzed me and I would have been finished before I started.

France illustrates this point perfectly. I went over there knowing that funds were going to be a little tight for the first month. I didn’t realize until I got there that I flat out didn’t have enough money. If it weren’t for Carole and her family so graciously hosting me for the fist week, I wouldn’t have made it. Moreover the directrice of the Foyer accepted partial payment rent until my first pay check arrived.

If I were fully conscious of financial realities then I doubt I would have taken the risk to go. I would have been too proud to borrow money, and unwilling to sleeping on the street. However I did go, and the community/universe provided.

My choices are influenced by a belief that everything is possible and everything is alright. I was afraid to go to Chile, because I knew I couldn’t afford to buy a car and go to Chile. When I needed to book my flight it was yet unclear if I would need to buy a car. I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to see my friend if I didn’t buy a car, but I didn’t want to be stuck if I did need to buy a car. I also hated the idea that I had worked so hard all summer so that I could buy a car in order to work more. In the end I took a deep breath and decided to buy the ticket. I didn’t know what the outcome with the car would be, but I was sure that a solution would materialize.

There is something to be said for humility and responsibility. It is arrogant and completely unfair to be constantly needy and dependent on others. I’ve recently made a new goal to establish savings for the more challenging “anythings” such as health concerns, car accidents, job loss, etc. My main point is that there is always an element of risk, potential for unimaginable beauty as well as devastation. So live. Be alive every moment.

Rollerblading

I strapped on my rollerblades, and launched myself from the doorstep when suddenly my dad jumped out from the dark wielding a sharp object. Needless to say I screamed and told him that scarring me was uncalled for. Dad told me that he was showing me that I need to watch out more. This sparked a brief conversation on how I interact in the world. The conversation ended with me protesting about living in fear and defending the precautions I take emotionally and physically. Dad asserted that I was naïve and lucky that my ineffectual precautions have not led to my demise. Realizing that the point was mute I rolled my eyes under the cover of darkness and hugged my dad before I rolled away.

Being a sassy girl of the world, I get the “watch out for the Boogie-Man” talk a lot. The biggest initiators of these warnings are my many parents are who are in perpetual fear that I’m going to be attacked and or abducted. At least one of my parents also considers it a possibility that I could be brain washed. These fears are genuine and thus I consider the most loving thing for me to do is reassure my parents with smiles, hugs, kisses, and regular contact. If I can pacify their concerns without altering my sense of self then I do.

Despite the recommendations of everyone in my family, one simple act that I am incapable of fulfilling is watching the movie “Taken”. I’ll save my political, feminist arguments about the sexualization of violence against women and the absurdity of violence as entertainment regardless of context for another blog. Thoughts on media aside, I just can’t watch scary or bloody movies.

My imagination is still alive and well. Normally I skip around thinking happy thoughts and making up beautiful things in my head. I credit my general happiness to this habit of perpetually daydreaming. Perhaps my privilege makes it possible for me to go around in a fantasy land. Or perhaps I’m genetically inclined to float around on a sublime cloud. Whatever the case may be, that is how I function.

My imagination has a dark side however. This coincides with other images that pop up at bizarre times. Sometimes I’m walking along on a sunny day humming a song to myself when somewhere from the depths of my mind the idea that someone (usually a man) in my vicinity could attack me. In an effort to prevent a regular state of imagining horrific events, I just try to stay away from them. This includes movies like “Taken”.

When I’m exposed to violent things, I have nightmares, and I can’t stop my imagination from replaying scenes and expanding on them in more gruesome ways. Sometimes images from a film like that will pop up at unexpected times. I do listen to the news, and sometimes I’ll get nightmares from that, but what can I do?

Perhaps the morbid parts of me have always been their but they are more prevalent since I found an uninvited man in my room, and since my friend was murdered. Other improbable events like my Uncle dyeing in a plane crash, my Grandpa dyeing in an ordinary medical procedure, and my cousin getting hit by a bus have also contributed to an over all feeling that anything can and will happen.

For my 23 years I have been part of a perpetual and reinforcing cycle of blissful imaginings. I worry about how this would play out if I spun too far out into negativity. When I do get into dark moods, they scare me. There is a long history of depression in my family, could I fall into that?

So I prefer not to think about “sad/bad” things. I intentionally separate myself from them to the best of my ability. I keep busy. I get my energy from people. The sadness always escapes and manifests itself in the form of sleeplessness, illness or general emotional neediness, however thus far happiness always prevails.

Changes

Jennifer recently bought a house and she moved back to Washington. Since the end of September I’ve known that Jenn would probably move, however she left suddenly after her and Jana had a dispute. Jennifer has been gone for two weeks, but I’m still feeling out a new equilibrium. All and all I have been three weeks in adjusting because the week Jenn packed was extremely difficult. Jana was gone for most of that week, and boxes were everywhere. Fortunately Jennifer and Jana reconnected before Jenn and the kids left. It was important to both girls that Aedan and Jana got to spend time together before they left.

I was so relieved when Jana came back home that my personal water fountains sprung to life. The girls were able to transcend their differences because there were kids involved. Extraordinary feats of relationship repair often occurs when kids are involved, but I have to wonder why can’t adults put their pride aside because of love? Why blame? Does silent treatment and hurtful burdens add anything to the lives of people in conflict?

In any case, the house is quieter, and I have been staying extra busy to alleviate sad feelings. I’m happy for Jennifer and her family. It’s wonderful that she is able to buy a house. I admire her strength everyday. I still miss her and the kids though. I miss silly conversations with Jennifer and all the ridiculous things she says. I miss playing cars and cooking with Aedan. I miss tickling Morgan, and I miss Kenley’s sweet smile. Even for though it was short the time we had together was truly special. My poor brother in law must be heart broken without them. I keep Sam in mind and think, “I can’t really complain, but sometimes I still do…”

I’ve been working on my relationship with Jana since I arrived, and I’m starting to feel the love grow. My relationship with Jana is teaching me how to love. Patience and love is building trust between us. My strategy to react defensively is shifting. It’s becoming more and more evident to me that defensiveness and justifications only creates holes. The past few days when I hug Jana, I don’t get the feeling that she is embracing me out of a sense of obligation. We are healing.