sudden shift

As of today, this blog is formally retired. Farewell.

I'm combining my parenting/family/learning to live and learning to love stories with my children's books and teaching entries into one, great big blog conglomerate. That blog will inherit this one's title, or a variation on it, but will be located at my book blog address, cuz the tags and history and previous work over there are more important to me to keep in circulation.

Anywho: thanks for playing. I hope to see you at: Amy's Breakfast Platter.

Much Love! A

A Burst of Blogging

I dunno if I'll be tethered to the digital world, at all, for the next 14 days, so I'm having a sudden burst of blogging energy. An interesting meme traveled the kidlit world a couple weeks ago. I've never been "tagged" for a meme, but my understanding of the biological metaphor (DNA, heredity, and genes) leads me to question the practice of tagging. A meme either catches, and gets passed along, cuz it has some kinda "cool-to-blog-on-fitness", or it becomes extinct. Maybe that's just sour grapes cuz I've never been tagged. Nah, I really believe in the organic nature of idea sharing on the web.

Anyhow: Here's the meme. First, write four things that were new to you in the past four years, and then write four things that will be new parts of your life in the upcoming four years.

New things in the last four years:

• I became a mother when we adopted three lovely children.
  
• We bought our first house (and still like it so much it that I can't imagine moving).
• I finished my formal schooling with a Master's of Education degree.
• I've become happily certain that teaching is my life's work.

New things in the next four years:

• We'll have one baby (this is NOT an announcement), just a hope and a plan, for now.
  
• I'll become a better writer and a much better writing teacher.
• My relationships with my daughters will continue to deepen; and I'll find a way to break through Aninga's concrete shell.
  
• I'll find several new, delicious meals to cook regularly.

Coming up with a fourth new thing that will happen in the next four years was hard. I don't like being overly ambitious. I prefer to be realistic. Teaching sixth grade will be new, but not that different from what I've been doing for several years.

Clue #1

I adjusted my glasses and looked carefully at Easter, who was sitting at the kitchen table eating scrambled eggs. She was brand new to America and had only lived in our house two days. How well can she communicate in English, I wondered? What sort of a little person is she? Will she like me? Meanwhile, Duncan, our enormous Bernese Mountain Dog, was eating his breakfast. After Duncan finished his dog food I firmly commanded him, "Duncan, outside." Instead of obeying, he ran away from me, hustling to get away from the outside door. I stood up and walked toward him and repeated, louder, "Duncan, outside." He hurried around to the other side of the kitchen table, where I couldn't grab his collar. He looked at me with playful defiance. Suddenly Easter burst into a loud, mischievous giggle. "He refuses," she said.

Writing Ambitions

Our writing group meets next on June 22nd. I mean to have some serious work ready to share with the group by that time. What small steps might I map out to reach my goal of having something worth sharing? Well, I could at least put in a certain number of minutes per day. 30 minutes? Yes, fine. Good.

Counting Down to June 1

My students this year were quite a splendid bunch and I'm going to miss them all. These last few weeks are turning out to be hard enough, though, that I'm also going to be full of relief on June 1. The building is too hot, the kids are antsy and keep staring out the windows, and despite all my efforts to keep them busy learning, we keep finding ourselves with too much time to fill. I'm always exhausted on Fridays and usually come home and crash, but today the crash was particularly intense. I'm still surfacing from a deep nap and can barely move my legs. That's what I get for taking Dance Dance Revolution to our Outstanding Attendance party.

I still can't get over the joy of being done with my own 25 years of schooling. I'm the kinda kid, still, that has a hard time relaxing and enjoying any type of formal education experience (except when I'm the teacher!). I always feel pressure to impress the professor, to be perfect, to master every concept, to write pristine papers, and to get straight A's. When I'm taking any class, I have a constant buzz of anxiety. My grad school GPA, by the way, was a 3.9. So was it worth it? Certainly. I can now afford to continue doing the work I love, for at least thirty more years.

The Mormons

I liked the PBS documentary. Overall. There were parts where I felt the representation was unfair, and furthered stereotypes, but there were also many beautiful scenes that got at some of the complexities and paradoxes of our rich history and faith. I also just finished watching Doug Fabrizio's Utah NOW program discussing the film. There are two delicious surprises that all this has uncovered for me. First, I have a very strong interest in mormon/utah history. (Another inheritance from Jim.) I have a huge appetite to read and learn much more of this history---from all perspectives. And, fortunately, I have plenty of time for this pursuit now that I am no longer in graduate school! The second surprise for me is how much spiritual affinity I feel toward the faith of my childhood. Enough time has gone by that I can approach the whole thing from a calmer and less guilt-ridden or bitter place. And from this place I can start to recognize an intricate, beautiful theology that came from an incredibly complicated history. A theology that I still love. It's exciting to suddenly realize that I can appreciate Mormonism's theology, honor its myths, even believe fully in many of its tenets, and yet I'm not required to believe anything that's unacceptable to my conscience. Much of the analysis of the documentary focused on how outsiders vs. insiders understand Mormonism and one way that I'm lucky is that I'm free to firmly embrace both of those orientations. I can appreciate and believe in many things. I can honor the faith and sacrifices of my ancestors. And yet I can also look in, from outside the fold, and not suffer the choking pressures of conformity or the weight of spiritually damaging doctrines. I can have my mormon cake and eat it too. yum.

my baby girl

I just found Easter sleeping, alone in her room, with the lights on, with a book open under her arm. To really understand why this discovery almost made me cry, though, there are a few things you need to know. Reading is still very hard for Easter. She isn't yet able to read independently. Almost everyday she reads out loud to me for at least 30 minutes. I do my best to always be positive and loving about our reading time, but some things are hard to hide, especially from a kid who is so astute. I think she knows that I wish she was making faster progress and that I sometimes feel frustrated. And---she often sees me reading to myself, in my bed.

At Barnes and Noble this afternoon she asked me to help her find a chapter book, "to read to myself in my bed." So we picked out a hard cover Magic Tree House book. In the car, on the way home, she was reading it, but she was struggling with so many words that it was hard to follow the story. I told her we'd read it together, later. But I was talking on the phone all evening and didn't go in to read with her until she'd already fallen asleep. But she didn't give up. She so wants to become a strong reader, and make me feel happy and proud, that she layed in that bed and tried hard to read it on her own. And I so love her for how hard she's trying, and for her lovely spirit, and for her sweet, sweet heart. She'll get there, someday, and I'll do my best to assure her that she has my love, regardless of how long it takes.

Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, it's back to work i go....

Well, I managed to get some solid hours of restful idleness in this past week. We are loving our new DDR game, and I think it even qualifies as legit cardio exercise. I quite enjoy how I can compete and exercise and dance, all at the same time. Plus--spend some quality recreational time with my bambinas.

I finished my master's project Friday and emailed my paper to my adviser. I hope the rest of the process isn't going to be too painful. I hope the whole thing is good enough, so that I can graduate already.

So, it's back to work tomorrow. There are only about six weeks left in this school year. And then we will see if I can continue to have hours of restful idleness, or if not working will make me crazy.

10 Great Things About My Girls

1. They are worthy opponents on Dance Dance Revolution
2. They love Calvin and Hobbes
3. Easter and Clara both aspire to become teachers at Washington Elementary
4. They do all the dishes
5. They like to play outside
6. They like basketball
7. They have great taste in movies, i.e. Lord of the Rings, Shrek, and Star Wars
8. They are kind
9. They are funny
10. They are beautiful

Trudging Along

Bryan, my advisor for my master's project, hasn't responded to any drafts that I've emailed him in the last two weeks. So, I'm just plugging along, assuming that it's all fine. It's going much better these days. I wrote my "theoretical framework" and "methodology" sections, and now I'm just filling in examples of how the whole Lesson Study mentoring model worked out this year, according to these standards of success that I've already established. I've found that I can get about three pages of solid writing in every morning. Something happens to my brain at around 12:30 p.m., and I can't really get much more academic writing accomplished after that. It's a bizarre, but manageable phenomenon, this inability to write very much in a day. This week is Spring Break so I can afford to move along at this snail-like pace. As long as I can keep up the three pages per day, I'm on track to be done by Sunday.

I've been working a lot on my book blog. I might start leaving comments with a link to it on some of the kid lit blogs I'm always lurking around. I want it to be very presentable.

subsonic love poems

Gabe, Jessie's best friend and "homie for life" went into hoodie-pulled-over-his-eyes, super-sad-and-shut-down mode during recess today and made me cry real tears for a few minutes, too. It is quite sad for all of us to lose one of the brightest lights of our classroom. I've been carrying around a little orange orangutan stuffed monkey which I refer to as "The Spirit of Good Jessie". This monkey finished Jessie's science project, sat in his chair for math, and gently slapped the cheeks of lots and lots of kids all day. There's nothing wrong with using my imagination to cope for a few more days. But I have to lose the monkey crutch next week: gotta be half as brave and strong as my little grandbaby homie hero was for his last month with us. And he was extremely brave and strong.

The thing about feeling so broken is that it opens me up, somehow. I don't really know how to explain this opening up of my heart accurately. It's as if a damaging earth quake shakes my steady normal world and the fissures, fault lines, and pain remind me that I'm a very fragile human, and that I'm walking around, every day, among lots and lots of little fellow fragile humans. Somehow my crumbly, broken spirit is better able to hear the whale songs of comfort that the universe is singing through the voices of all the Washington kids and I'm also able to sense the subsonic poems of love that are still the fabric of my classroom.

brokeness

Yes, I jumped off a chair, got my feet all twisted in the back, fell hard with only my hands to stop my fall, and broke both my arms. Both breaks were "minor", although all kinds of painful for about 48 hours. The triumphant leap off the chair, to look at the beautiful cursive alphabet that I'd just finished hanging in my brand new classroom, happened on Saturday, Feb. 17th. My bones are healing well. The doctor told me to move them and do as much as I can. They're not the kind of break that needs casts. I've already got a lot of mobility and range of motion back. It's just strength that I still need to build up now. I'm still in the process of figuring out worker's comp. and where to go for physical therapy.

A different kind of brokeness, that's still painful and in that killer initial 48 hours is happening to my heart right now. I said goodbye to Jessie today. Goodbye, forever. I followed a still small voice of inspiration and went over to the homeless shelter for an hour before I drove home this evening. I wanted to talk to his mom--say thank you, congratulations, and by the way, sorry, but Jessie's suspended from the bus again, just in case you were considering sending him to school one last day tomorow. She didn't make it back to the shelter before we had to leave, but Easter and I hung out with Jessie, his 8-year-old sister Angel, and his 11-year-old brother Nico. We sat on the floor in the hall of the shelter and chatted and joked and just enjoyed each other's company for a tender, final hour. Jessie brought out their four little books of family photos and showed me each one and told me all the accompanying names and stories. At one point Nico was teasing him about how he used to be bad. And then Jessie said this unforgettable line about how, yes, he had to do community service for getting in trouble a few times, "But," he says "that was before I met you." And the cutest, sweetest, most heart-breaking thing about that line, is that he didn't mean that it was a long time ago. He's saying it's becuase of me--or because of our relationship, rather. For the last eighteen months he's worked very hard at being good, he's worked hard at being good for me.

Here's a copy of his goodbye letter. If you call me in the next week or two, ask how my arms are healing, but also ask me about my heart. I think my arms will be completely healed before my heart gets all its strength back again---I love this child so much. It's always been hard for me to have faith but I have to trust and believe that some kind of higher power will take good care of him.

Dear Jessie,

Thank you for always working so hard. You have always done everything I’ve asked you to do. Last year, you worked hard as part of our basketball team. You came to practices and kept playing even though we didn’t always win. You’ve always finished your assignments in class and you’ve always done thoughtful, great work. You haven’t always turned in your homework but I know you’ve been doing it, most of the time. You’ve improved your reading a lot this year and I think you’ve learned at least sixty new vocabulary words. You helped the little kids and me with Read Naturally without ever complaining. You’ve been an incredible friend to Gabe and to many other students. You’ve been an excellent leader in our class this year. I am so proud of you. Thank you so much for doing all of these things.

Remember how much I believe in you. I know you can make good choices all of the time. You’re so smart and talented. I believe you will accomplish all of your dreams. You will go to college, play football and become a scientist, an engineer, a newspaper editor, a teacher, a mathematician, or whatever you want to become. Keep your grades up. Don’t quit school. Hang out with friends that will help you make good choices. You have a great family and I know you’ll make them all proud. You will be strong like Jackie Robinson: strong enough to BE KIND, strong enough to NOT FIGHT, and strong enough to NEVER GIVE UP. Remember how Jackie was strong on the inside and the outside—you also have that kind of inside strength.

Give people (adults and kids) a chance to get to know you and they will like you. Remember the goals on your Y contract: follow directions and be kind. These two goals are like a magic spell that will help your new teacher and other adults see how incredible you are.

I’ve really enjoyed having you as a student.

With much love,

My Current Books and Movies List

A Drowned Maiden's Hair: A Melodrama---This book just won a CYBIL award, which is this award for children's literature that was created by all these bloggers. I'm liking it so far. I predict I'll finish it before Sunday.

The Battle of Jericho--I'm not really into this one. I might skim read it, just to find out what happens to these teenagers, but I'm not hooked.

Silent Thunder--non-fiction about elephants. I'll finish this one. It's a captivating read about everything elephant: communication, social structures, ecology, etc. etc.

Dear Mem Fox, I Have Read All Your Books, Even the Pathetic Ones--I was expecting a book similar to Radical Reflections, which I really loved, but this is more like a memoir, with lots and lots of stories about her personal life. It's too early to say if I'll finish it. Maybe.

To Remain An Indian: Lessons in Democracy from a Century of Native American Education-- well, I'll finish this, cuz it's for this professor book club that I agreed to be part of, but I don't think I'll enjoy it much. It's quite depressing. I might learn something useful, though. We'll see.

God Laughs & Plays--I bought this out of pure loyalty to David James Duncan. It's not his best work, and that's being kind. I'll finish it, though, cuz I really am a DJD groupie.

Teacher Man--I'm listening to this teaching memoir on DVD. I'm enjoying the performance so far.

United 93---I might watch this one tonight, to get the blasted hours to disappear already. I am so anxious to get into my new classroom tomorrow--it's like fifty Christmas Eve's all smashed together right now.

The Fallen--this is an escapist mystery book, which I will certainly finish, maybe even tonight. The main cop character has this interesting, but believable ability--a kind of sythesisia that makes him see people talk in colorful shapes that tell their emotions and whether or not they're telling lies.


Five people were shot and killed last night at Trolley Square. The shooter was a Bosnian immigrant teenager that lived near our home, here in Rose Park. I don't know what a blog equivalent of a moment of silence might be, but here's mine:







.

3 Quotes

You were made and set here to give voice to this, your astonishment.

-Annie Dillard


The ocean is really huge. When you get out on a little boat, you know it. You're clinging to a cork … And out there, rolling around and swimming through and perfectly at home in the waves are these enormous animals. And by golly, they're singing … And so what that has done for me is to make me feel that what lies ahead is absolutely limitless. We are not at the pinnacle of human knowledge. We are just beginning.

-Katy Payne


I would gasp, kneel, and ache in admiration before the altar of these tiny human souls, all day, if not for the bizarre confusion such wild acts would engender in their spongy little minds.

-Amy Simbe

Saturday Chores

Harriet hates doing "Saturday Chores". She's developed this opinion based on characters on Disney channel programs and books like 100 Ways to Bug Your Parents. So, her solution, to this dislike, for the last two weeks, has been to thoroughly clean the entire house on Friday afternoons, before I even get home from work. She knows, of course, that the house must be cleaned each week, but figures that by doing it all by herself, on Fridays, she can help us all avoid the dreaded "Saturday Chores." What a delightful and wonderful child, that one.

I'm smack in the midst of breaking a resolution to stay off the computer for 24 hours and get some reading done already. But it's okay, cuz I've read a lot today. I'll blog in my book and movie blog about some of the books I've been reading, and I've ordered two amazing new picture books for birthday gifts (but I can't say for whom!).

Suzette wasn't at our last writing group meeting, but she asked me to email her my "spiritual moment" essay, which I did. She marked it up, very thoughtfully, and sent it back to me as a PDF. In addition to having feedback and an audience, the best thing about writing group is that it's encouraging me to become more and more interested in and thoughtful about the writing process. I've been reading a lot of books about reading and writing. This reading, and the ensuing conversations, have led me to begin to develop a new sense of myself as a writer. They've led me to rewire some of my internal maps in ways that I think are leading me to become a more focused and stronger writer. For example, I've become certain that the two genres in which I will be able to create some quality (possibly publishable) writing, in the next year or so, are essays about teaching, and short stories or fiction for ten-year-olds.

Here's one funny irony about the role I see myself assuming as "a writer": I really want a funky, spicy, bohemian type of writer's notebook. I imagine this notebook to be full of sketches, new words, poem fragments, and quirky observations. But I also adore this new pearly white mac that has become my constant companion. And I'm far more comfortable typing out my thoughts, than I am writing them out long hand. Although, it must be said, I often have more developed and careful thinking when I'm writing long hand, because I'm forced to S--L--O--W D--O--W--N. Maybe I can have both. A funky writing notebook, and a stylish lap top. Both.

Jessie update: he's still with us, he's still being brave and strong, and the one thing I wished most for him, around Christmas time, he has been given: a positive male role model in the form of Mr. Chatter, my brilliant student teacher.

Goodbye January

The last few weeks have been super cold. A brief snow storm cleaned the air a bit, last night, but it's also been smoggy. Goodbye and good riddance to January, 2007. Jessie hasn't left yet. I'm still thinking any day, or week, but who knows. I got a letter from a former favorite student. It was sweet and positive and he sent his report card along, too, which was outstanding. I love remembering the big picture.

Facing the Truth

Damn, saying goodbye to this child is killing me even more than I predicted. He's making it hard on purpose, the little punk, cuz it's easier to lie than to face the truth. I've been struggling to find some words to help him understand all this, but it's hard. He's just a kid. But maybe "you are strong enough to face the truth" are some words that he'll understand. I'm going to tell him that he can choose to be strong enough to face the truth and truth is this: that he is scared to leave and sad to leave, and that he's going to miss us as much as we're going to miss him (honestly, more, of course) But scared and sad aren't very acceptable emotions for baby homies, so I understand the need to lie, but I'm going to flip this screwed up version of masculinity on its pathetic ass and help this child be sad and scared and admit to those feelings and stop acting out lies like "I hate it here anyway, and I don't want to be here anyway." Cuz that kinda nonsense is making it too hard on me. Am I just selfish? Should I let him create his little lie of a fantasy world so it will be easier for him. No, cuz I really believe that it takes more strength to tell the truth and I still, even though we're down to our final days together, want him to learn this important kind of strength. It's okay to feel sad, it's okay to feel scared, and it's even okay to express these feelings.

Mr. C

My student teacher this year is incredible. First and foremost, he adores the kids. He enjoys their wild, wonderful spirits, listents to their stories with rapture, and fills the playground with his own raw energy---running, screaming, and playing hard.

He's in charge, all day, everyday, starting next Tuesday. I hate being away from my class, but that's just cuz of my selfishness. I like being surrounded by little people who love and need me. But they will still learn plenty because they are in good hands. And Mr. C is going to learn that he can do it on his own, that he is not only able to hold things together, but that he is a capable teacher.

I got a little tripped out yesterday when I was planning with him and I realized just how firecely he hangs on every word I say. Also, I'll often notice him interacting with the kids in ways that are very similar to the ways I interact with them. It's a feeling even stranger than watching Easter talk to her dolls like I talk to her---it's a heavy weight of responsibility as I come to understand that I'm shaping this teacher's whole career. Each class he ever has will be full of little people that he teaches in ways that he learned from me. I am overwhelmed by this realization, but I'm also somewhat thrilled by it. I'm grateful that I've been able to do things this year with my own teaching that I can be proud about---I've been true enough to my own ideals of best teaching practice that I can say, with confidence, that I'm glad this is what he's learning.

Grace

About a million crazy things happened at work today. I stormed out of a meeting and was then confronted by Joann in front of six other people. I wasn'’t as articulate as I wish I could have been for this showdown. Later, in the cafeteria, in private, Johnny cried. That was unforgettable. It was while he was comforting me and giving me some really valuable advice---the main point being that if I remember why I wanted to teach in the first place and the kind of things that truly motivate me, there'’s no reason to get so upset over these situations. I don't feel like describing the whole entire situation with my boss today. She was her normal cruel tyrant self, and that's not going to change. (For the record---Johnny doesn't agree, at all, with this characterization of the boss.) But, he said, I still make a huge difference within the realms that I am able to influence, a really huge difference in those little lives. Enough of a powerful, good difference, that I need to focus more on that and less on other people's bad choices. To illustrate this get-some-perspective point of Johnny's: Adrian and Ulises, two former students, visited me this week. It was abundantly apparent that they continue to remember, fondly, their time with me, and I know they continue to benefit, academically, from the things I taught them. And then, not long after this motivating, but very emotional conversation with Johnny, three more tiny moments occurred which have led me to a new commitment, which is so deep and feels so right and final and true to my center of spiritual selfness, that I can't help but use corny phrases like I've found my calling.

The first moment: Jessie told me that his mom, finally, after 15 months of living in the Road Home shelter, got her voucher to move her family into public housing. They are looking for a house in West Valley. So Jessie's leaving, probably not by Monday, but likely very soon. Which is wonderful news for him and his family. This news came up as we were processing this whole kid drama situation today. At one point I said something like, "Well, you know what I believe about you." And he mumbles, nodding, "Yeah, about how I'm capable and talented and incredible." Like these are just the facts, like the floor is dirty and it's hard to make good choices, Ms. Simbe believes I'’m capable and talented and incredible. So even though I knew this day was coming (the day, mid-year, when Jessie would leave) and even though I'm very attached to this child, I feel confident that he'll be okay. I've had more than two hundred fifty days with him and even if he doesn't believe those things about himself, he won't soon forget what I believe.

The second moment: The mother of my new student Juan, who just before Winter Break moved into the Road Home, visited the school today. I was only in the room for about fifteen minutes, but heard her describing the Road Home environment, which I knew was horrendous, but to hear it from this loving mother'’s own mouth helped me understand, even more, how much these kids from the Road Home need a safe, loving, structured place to spend eight hours a day. It reaffirmed everything I did, far and beyond the call of duty, on Jessie's behalf. She was also very grateful for the Christmas present I helped Juan make for her. Juan can barely read at a first grade level, so later in the day, I made sure that his special education services will be intense enough to support his needs in reading.

The final moment: Because of the confrontation with Joann and the name calling and tension that'’s not going to go away, I kept telling myself I had to make a choice, to either make real peace with Joann or to firmly commit to transfer at the end of the year. All day, my whole body and self and emotions were like a tempest storm because it seemed like an impossible choice. But what this raging storm and the lightening bolts of the first two moments I just described, finally pushed me to realize, is that I am committed, fiercely, passionately, outrageously, and obsessively committed, to the kids that come to Washington from the Road Home. And this commitment is the undercurrent of my final answer: I'm staying, for the long haul. I know there are students that I would love and be happy with everywhere, but not kids with the unique needs of those that come to us from the Road Home. Not only do I believe those kids need me to stay, the Jessies and Juans and Regans of Washington, but late this afternoon, in the quiet stillness of my classroom, I also realized in a very spiritual (uncomfortably Mormon-ish) way that this is where I'm "supposed" to be. The vast, infinitely loving, but mysteriously personal, spirit of the universe wants my talents and passions and love to continue to be a well from which these particular children are able to draw. Final answer.

As for peace with Joann--I don't know--it doesn't feel urgent or important anymore, not compared with the grace that I continue to feel emanating from the center of the Universe's loving heart.