The picture above makes me smile. It fills my heart with joy. Great writing fills my heart with joy. As we head into our winter break, consider the ways in which your life is brimming with good fortune and relish those things that make you distinctly happy-- whether that's Hot cheetos, a steaming bowl of ramen or time with a friend watching familiar movies.
Have a terrific break. Read on to my next blog. Thanks.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
The Chicken and the Egg
Do you ever wonder if the tension and anxiety that always precedes a major break from school is because people are honestly burnt out, or do you think that knowing we're on the verge of a break causes a break down? I always wonder at this time of year if the exhaustion I feel is because I let myself feel it since I know break is coming or whether I am actually genuinely tired. Many schools, for example, have school into next week. If that was the case with us, would the "get me the heck our of here's" have started this early or kicked into gear next Monday?
What are your thoughts?
Will I get sick this weekend? More than likely. I tend to always have a break down of my immune system when we're out of school. Anyone find that similarly happens to them?
Who has big goals for break-- things they want to accomplish? I already feel like every day of my break is consumed with activity and responsibility... How do people do it when they work all year long without the breaks we enjoy from school? I have had a winter break since I was old enough to attend school.
Who here is good at relaxing or knows how to unwind in healthy ways?
Misc. note: The last day to post an assigned December blog for partial credit is January 1st.
Today's writing task: Muse about the above thoughts or write about anything that moves you.
What are your thoughts?
Will I get sick this weekend? More than likely. I tend to always have a break down of my immune system when we're out of school. Anyone find that similarly happens to them?
Who has big goals for break-- things they want to accomplish? I already feel like every day of my break is consumed with activity and responsibility... How do people do it when they work all year long without the breaks we enjoy from school? I have had a winter break since I was old enough to attend school.
Who here is good at relaxing or knows how to unwind in healthy ways?
Misc. note: The last day to post an assigned December blog for partial credit is January 1st.
Today's writing task: Muse about the above thoughts or write about anything that moves you.
A Warmer Wednesday
First off, props to everyone who rides the city bus. My partner Luke spent probably 2-3 hours of his day yesterday on mass transit. Wild.
Today, we are going to begin Part II of the work you started with your
Alphabet Year in Review. Now that you've put some thought into the
high and low lights of your year, I want you to consider what you would
CHANGE about your past year. More specifically, I want you to think
about something YOU could have changed about the year. Sometimes,
things happen to us that are tragic or wierd and they're out of our
control. Thankfully though, there are things within our domain of
control. In a reflective blog, write about what you might change about
yourself. This can be a behavior, a habit, a way of thinking... a
pattern... Then, in today's blog, establish why this is a worthwhile
thing to focus energy on.
Why? Because we're going to resolve to change something about how we
live, think or act and we're going to use your blog to track your
progress on that goal.
Some of you may have experienced this project in the past. I call it
the Pygmalion Project after the play by Bernard Shaw. You will
chronicle your journey to amend something about yourself. Very
exciting.
Happy Wednesday!
Today, we are going to begin Part II of the work you started with your
Alphabet Year in Review. Now that you've put some thought into the
high and low lights of your year, I want you to consider what you would
CHANGE about your past year. More specifically, I want you to think
about something YOU could have changed about the year. Sometimes,
things happen to us that are tragic or wierd and they're out of our
control. Thankfully though, there are things within our domain of
control. In a reflective blog, write about what you might change about
yourself. This can be a behavior, a habit, a way of thinking... a
pattern... Then, in today's blog, establish why this is a worthwhile
thing to focus energy on.
Why? Because we're going to resolve to change something about how we
live, think or act and we're going to use your blog to track your
progress on that goal.
Some of you may have experienced this project in the past. I call it
the Pygmalion Project after the play by Bernard Shaw. You will
chronicle your journey to amend something about yourself. Very
exciting.
Happy Wednesday!
Monday, December 15, 2008
2008 Alphabet- Round 2
O: Obama. There's so much to say on this topic. Let's start with this: whenever I'm out and about shopping, my eyes are peeled for inter-racial couples and the beautiful bi-racial babies they make. I love that the generation my son will grow and learn with will look like... well, everyone. Heck, even at the in-home daycare where I take him M-Th, four of the 6 little kids are bi-racial. The election of Obama is a symbol of our country moving forward and in him, I see the hope and promise of my son. It's not only 2008 that will be impacted; just this morning on the news they were talking about the 10 million strong group of Obama people who are still meeting to discuss how we can empower and support Obama in office. Amazing.
R:
T:Tina Fey. She's brilliant and I wish I could be more like her. She's terribly funny and a terrific writer and let's not forget- she was a darn funny Sarah Palin. Luke and I both love watching 30 Rock, her show, and when she pens her memoir (which is said to be in progress) I think I'll buy it:)
U: Unique Thrift Store. This actually pertains my mother's regular reports about what she finds at Unique. She proudly shares the great deal on an item that was such and such brand name. My Mom has been poor for 20 some years now and I wish that Unique had existed back in the day. I love that on her limited budget she can have new infusions to her wardrobe and it makes me laugh that she always insists on mentioning the brand name since she scolds me when I even consider having something with a label for Quinn:)
V: Victory Ford. That's the name of one of the characters in Lipstick Jungle. I've never actually caught an episode on tv, but I've watched all of the episodes on-line and I like it very much. What was my motivation to watch this show? Andrew McCarthy- member of the Brat Pack and hugely famous in the 80's and a former crush of mine. He stars on the now canceled show and it made me hugely happy to see him earning a living as an actor.
W:
X:
Y:Yarn. For a while, I was a big knitter... or a wanna be knitter. I was never very good, but I liked the hobby. After Quinn was born, all of the needles and yarn got packed away. This summer, I finally purged all of my yarn, knowing that I won't be using it any time soon. I see kids crocheting and knitting and I long for the time to do it, but I'll have to wait until Quinn is old enough to be too cool for me.
Z- Zohan, or Don't Mess with the Zohan. This year at Thanksgiving, my family gathered at our place for dinner. During 2007 we didn't host much because the side of the duplex we lived on was without, shall we say, aesthetic beauty and so we avoided inviting people over. SO, I made a very nice meal and then we ended up watching this movie. Growing up, I remember that some of the only moments when my family wasn't fighting was when we were watching comedy movies. The laughter we shared over the movie was our version of bonding. Nowadays, we race around with Quinn, laughing about his antics. The movie, by the way, is strange.
R:
T:Tina Fey. She's brilliant and I wish I could be more like her. She's terribly funny and a terrific writer and let's not forget- she was a darn funny Sarah Palin. Luke and I both love watching 30 Rock, her show, and when she pens her memoir (which is said to be in progress) I think I'll buy it:)
U: Unique Thrift Store. This actually pertains my mother's regular reports about what she finds at Unique. She proudly shares the great deal on an item that was such and such brand name. My Mom has been poor for 20 some years now and I wish that Unique had existed back in the day. I love that on her limited budget she can have new infusions to her wardrobe and it makes me laugh that she always insists on mentioning the brand name since she scolds me when I even consider having something with a label for Quinn:)
V: Victory Ford. That's the name of one of the characters in Lipstick Jungle. I've never actually caught an episode on tv, but I've watched all of the episodes on-line and I like it very much. What was my motivation to watch this show? Andrew McCarthy- member of the Brat Pack and hugely famous in the 80's and a former crush of mine. He stars on the now canceled show and it made me hugely happy to see him earning a living as an actor.
W:
X:
Y:Yarn. For a while, I was a big knitter... or a wanna be knitter. I was never very good, but I liked the hobby. After Quinn was born, all of the needles and yarn got packed away. This summer, I finally purged all of my yarn, knowing that I won't be using it any time soon. I see kids crocheting and knitting and I long for the time to do it, but I'll have to wait until Quinn is old enough to be too cool for me.
Z- Zohan, or Don't Mess with the Zohan. This year at Thanksgiving, my family gathered at our place for dinner. During 2007 we didn't host much because the side of the duplex we lived on was without, shall we say, aesthetic beauty and so we avoided inviting people over. SO, I made a very nice meal and then we ended up watching this movie. Growing up, I remember that some of the only moments when my family wasn't fighting was when we were watching comedy movies. The laughter we shared over the movie was our version of bonding. Nowadays, we race around with Quinn, laughing about his antics. The movie, by the way, is strange.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
2008 in Review
Well, it's started. The holiday cards are trickling in and anecdotes and pictures abound from loved ones. I always put off writing the annual Christmas letter because there's so many levels and variances to the kind of relationships I have with friends and family. One letter might be a complete over-share to one relative and another might seem too prosaic or verbose to another. Usually, I try to land somewhere in the middle with a well-written, but not terribly revealing missive. Do people want to know about Quinn's reconstructive circumcision, for example? Do you? (Laughing). I digress. This morning I went to nytimes.com because I love reading my news on their site; it makes me feel cosmopolitan and I like their take on national news and ideas. As always happens, I stumbled upon something I thought would be of interest for school- the ABC's of Ideas in 2008. For example, under the B's was a bubble wrap key chain designed in Japan that has sold millions. Can you imagine the sheer joy of that key chain? The bubble key chain always re-inflates itself! Fantastic.
So, what I would like us to do for the next two days is to develop an ABC's list of your year, filled with anecdotes, tales and adventures. Memorable people, events and epiphany's should fill your ABC's.
Here goes my start to my ABC's. You can duplicate letters if you like. My list needs a bit more emotional ummph. Hopefully as I continue this tomorrow, I'll add that more emotive element. And again, here's a preview of my year:
A: Asha visits. Since I was in 2nd grade, Asha has been one of my dearest friends. Even though she lives just on the East side, months could go by without being able to visit. This year we got into a habit of weekly dinners and rotated who did dessert and the main course. She's fantastic with Quinn, a supportive friend and someone I admire and trust. In August, she helped me put together a last minute garage sale and lead the way to emptying my house of tons of junk.
B: Brisingr. A couple years ago, I started reading the Inheritance Cycle of Books, including Eragon and Eldest. They were written by a 14 year old boy (at least the first one was) and they're fantastic books. The third book in the series came out and I was SO happy to read it. Plus, the author has added the fourth book to the series, though that probably won't be out for a couple years. Caleb is a huge fan too so we got together with a former colleague for a book club brunch, which was way fun too.
C: Chocolate Chip Eggo Waffles. Quinn has had a flurry of issues related to eating solid foods. We finished up our work at the Feeding Clinic with an occupational therapist this summer and his consumption has improved. Still, the temperament of a toddler means that we can be a little bit picky. For our family, Chocolate Chip Waffles are the go-to, anytime kind of food. He eats them before bed, for breakfast or for an afternoon snack. And to be honest, his Dad and I like them too:)
D: Dark Knight. My brother Matt and I used to go to movies together pretty frequently. Since Quinn arrived, a movie is a rarity. Somehow, Matt and I managed to find time to see this film together last summer. The last Christian Bale movie we saw together was American Psycho, a seriously freaky movie. Dark Knight was excellent though and I'm sure it will be added to our movie collection soon.
E: Elysha's Summer Visit. My best friend from senior year of high school (seen in the picture on this blog) came to town in August and we got to spend a few days together catching up and enjoying one another's company. Elysha is a middle school math teacher in MA. She introduced me to blogger.com. We were trying to blog back and forth about our attempts to be healthy. Though we both fell off the wagon, the writing was fun.
F: Fishing Trip 2008. This year, while Luke was away for his annual week-long fishing trip, I moved the family to the other side of the duplex. Our new home is completely re-furbished inside with new floors, walls, etc. It is well-lit, we have a dish washer now and the woodwork is beautiful.
G: Gays in Plays. This year I've been teaching some new courses (Blogging among them) and I'm really enjoying the newness to the courses and the great literature. As CAHS considers increasing in size and space, I know that some stricter provisions surrounding scheduling will occur. For now though, I am relishing a teaching experience that provides curricular freedom-- and the community that engages in GLBTQ literature.
H: Hamline University. Once again, I am resuming my efforts to complete my Master's Degree. All that remains in my final paper, called a capstone. I already paid to write this paper once and now I've done it again, meaning it's imperative that I complete the darn thing unless I want to continue "donating" to Hamline. Wish me luck!
H: Honda Civic. My "beautiful" 2001 Honda Civic is now mine. I made the last car payment last month. It is bruised and battered, rusty and it's missing a rear view light, but it runs and I'm glad to own it-- finally.
I: Izzy's Ice Cream. I shop at Target. I buy clothes from chain stores. I don't do enough to support local businesses, unless you include my love of ice cream. Izzy's Ice Cream is on Marshall Ave. in St. Paul and they make their ice cream using the energy from solar panels on their roof. In a word, their ice cream is: perfect. Quinn and I made a habit of heading to Izzy's last spring after school and continued this trend through summer. Down the street from Izzy's is Choo-choo Bob's, a favorite spot for Quinn. Good times, good times.
J: Jennifer Weiner. The author of books like Good In Bed, In Her Shoes and Certain Girls is one of my favorites and the sequel to one of her greats (GIB) was released this summer (CG). Her characters are relatable, smart and outside of the formula female protagonist. Great books make life better.
K: Kisses. Quinn can make the kissing noise and will kiss an injury when asked. His cars kiss and he kisses his baby (and then proceeds to toss said baby back into the toy bin). I kiss my son maybe a hundred times a day and it makes me blissfully happy.
L: LA Fitness. I've done it again. In September, the family joined the new gym on University. I've been a member at two other gyms and I always start off well, but eventually end up "donating" my membership fee. Still, it's a new start and Luke has joined too.
M: Minnesota Public Radio. I love my public radio. I don't like driving, but I do like listening to my news and music through the Current and MPR. I always find that what I hear prompts interesting conversations in my life and profession.
N:New Kids on the Block. One of the best times of my life occurred in October when I attended the NKOTB concert at the XCel Energy Center. My friend Carolyn invited me to join her in the 3rd row for the event and it was hysterically funny, blissfully sublime and seriously cool. I have a NKOTB ringtone now and it makes me happy.
O:
P:Park and Rec. This spring, the family spent a lot of time at local parks watching pee-wee baseball. Quinn loves baseball and the free entertainment was great for us all. It meant that we were outside walking and Quinn got to see something he loves LIVE, as opposed to on TV. We also traveled to the St. Louis Park Splash Pad a bunch this summer and tried out the new Jimmy Lee Rec Center indoor poor.
Q: Quantum of Solace. Daniel Craig is hot. Luke and I went to see this film recently and it was entertaining. Luke is a huge Bond fan so any new film in the series is a time for celebration in our household.
R:
S: Sex and the City- the Movie. I am a huge SATC junkie. Seeing the movie was a joyful event and I am hoping to receive it this Christmas. Even though I have little in common with the individual profiles of the 4 NY ladies, I loved the show's stories and style. I used to watch episodes with a pal every Sunday night and I own the DVD's, though they're constantly loaned out to friends.:) Sharing SATC is just spreading the joy:)
T:
U: Understanding.
So, what I would like us to do for the next two days is to develop an ABC's list of your year, filled with anecdotes, tales and adventures. Memorable people, events and epiphany's should fill your ABC's.
Here goes my start to my ABC's. You can duplicate letters if you like. My list needs a bit more emotional ummph. Hopefully as I continue this tomorrow, I'll add that more emotive element. And again, here's a preview of my year:
A: Asha visits. Since I was in 2nd grade, Asha has been one of my dearest friends. Even though she lives just on the East side, months could go by without being able to visit. This year we got into a habit of weekly dinners and rotated who did dessert and the main course. She's fantastic with Quinn, a supportive friend and someone I admire and trust. In August, she helped me put together a last minute garage sale and lead the way to emptying my house of tons of junk.
B: Brisingr. A couple years ago, I started reading the Inheritance Cycle of Books, including Eragon and Eldest. They were written by a 14 year old boy (at least the first one was) and they're fantastic books. The third book in the series came out and I was SO happy to read it. Plus, the author has added the fourth book to the series, though that probably won't be out for a couple years. Caleb is a huge fan too so we got together with a former colleague for a book club brunch, which was way fun too.
C: Chocolate Chip Eggo Waffles. Quinn has had a flurry of issues related to eating solid foods. We finished up our work at the Feeding Clinic with an occupational therapist this summer and his consumption has improved. Still, the temperament of a toddler means that we can be a little bit picky. For our family, Chocolate Chip Waffles are the go-to, anytime kind of food. He eats them before bed, for breakfast or for an afternoon snack. And to be honest, his Dad and I like them too:)
D: Dark Knight. My brother Matt and I used to go to movies together pretty frequently. Since Quinn arrived, a movie is a rarity. Somehow, Matt and I managed to find time to see this film together last summer. The last Christian Bale movie we saw together was American Psycho, a seriously freaky movie. Dark Knight was excellent though and I'm sure it will be added to our movie collection soon.
E: Elysha's Summer Visit. My best friend from senior year of high school (seen in the picture on this blog) came to town in August and we got to spend a few days together catching up and enjoying one another's company. Elysha is a middle school math teacher in MA. She introduced me to blogger.com. We were trying to blog back and forth about our attempts to be healthy. Though we both fell off the wagon, the writing was fun.
F: Fishing Trip 2008. This year, while Luke was away for his annual week-long fishing trip, I moved the family to the other side of the duplex. Our new home is completely re-furbished inside with new floors, walls, etc. It is well-lit, we have a dish washer now and the woodwork is beautiful.
G: Gays in Plays. This year I've been teaching some new courses (Blogging among them) and I'm really enjoying the newness to the courses and the great literature. As CAHS considers increasing in size and space, I know that some stricter provisions surrounding scheduling will occur. For now though, I am relishing a teaching experience that provides curricular freedom-- and the community that engages in GLBTQ literature.
H: Hamline University. Once again, I am resuming my efforts to complete my Master's Degree. All that remains in my final paper, called a capstone. I already paid to write this paper once and now I've done it again, meaning it's imperative that I complete the darn thing unless I want to continue "donating" to Hamline. Wish me luck!
H: Honda Civic. My "beautiful" 2001 Honda Civic is now mine. I made the last car payment last month. It is bruised and battered, rusty and it's missing a rear view light, but it runs and I'm glad to own it-- finally.
I: Izzy's Ice Cream. I shop at Target. I buy clothes from chain stores. I don't do enough to support local businesses, unless you include my love of ice cream. Izzy's Ice Cream is on Marshall Ave. in St. Paul and they make their ice cream using the energy from solar panels on their roof. In a word, their ice cream is: perfect. Quinn and I made a habit of heading to Izzy's last spring after school and continued this trend through summer. Down the street from Izzy's is Choo-choo Bob's, a favorite spot for Quinn. Good times, good times.
J: Jennifer Weiner. The author of books like Good In Bed, In Her Shoes and Certain Girls is one of my favorites and the sequel to one of her greats (GIB) was released this summer (CG). Her characters are relatable, smart and outside of the formula female protagonist. Great books make life better.
K: Kisses. Quinn can make the kissing noise and will kiss an injury when asked. His cars kiss and he kisses his baby (and then proceeds to toss said baby back into the toy bin). I kiss my son maybe a hundred times a day and it makes me blissfully happy.
L: LA Fitness. I've done it again. In September, the family joined the new gym on University. I've been a member at two other gyms and I always start off well, but eventually end up "donating" my membership fee. Still, it's a new start and Luke has joined too.
M: Minnesota Public Radio. I love my public radio. I don't like driving, but I do like listening to my news and music through the Current and MPR. I always find that what I hear prompts interesting conversations in my life and profession.
N:New Kids on the Block. One of the best times of my life occurred in October when I attended the NKOTB concert at the XCel Energy Center. My friend Carolyn invited me to join her in the 3rd row for the event and it was hysterically funny, blissfully sublime and seriously cool. I have a NKOTB ringtone now and it makes me happy.
O:
P:Park and Rec. This spring, the family spent a lot of time at local parks watching pee-wee baseball. Quinn loves baseball and the free entertainment was great for us all. It meant that we were outside walking and Quinn got to see something he loves LIVE, as opposed to on TV. We also traveled to the St. Louis Park Splash Pad a bunch this summer and tried out the new Jimmy Lee Rec Center indoor poor.
Q: Quantum of Solace. Daniel Craig is hot. Luke and I went to see this film recently and it was entertaining. Luke is a huge Bond fan so any new film in the series is a time for celebration in our household.
R:
S: Sex and the City- the Movie. I am a huge SATC junkie. Seeing the movie was a joyful event and I am hoping to receive it this Christmas. Even though I have little in common with the individual profiles of the 4 NY ladies, I loved the show's stories and style. I used to watch episodes with a pal every Sunday night and I own the DVD's, though they're constantly loaned out to friends.:) Sharing SATC is just spreading the joy:)
T:
U: Understanding.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Tales of a High School Cashier
From ninth grade on I was employed. Prior to that, I baby sat on a regular basis. Through my friend's mother, I located a job for ninth and tenth grade that was "interesting" at best. Still, since finances in the family were stretched this gave me some flexibility to pay for my clothes and social activities. After school each day, I would walk about a half a mile from my high school to a nearby church. In this church was a pre-school where my friends Mom taught. Once I arrived, I would spend the next hour cleaning the school. Then, I'd spend at least the next half an hour waiting for my Mom to pick me up; she was notoriously late. One of the downsides to the job (aside from the obvious cleaning) was that I had to take out the garbage before I left. Normally, I wouldn't mind this task but one of the cute skater boys I liked hung out in front of the church... very near where I had to take out the trash. There are many things that might make a young girl look intriguing or even simply cute to a guy, but garbage removal is not one of them. Ah, the embarrassment. After two years at this job, I was now 16 and ready to apply for a "real" job.
First though, I went to Germany:) The summer after my sophomore year I studied abroad for about a month in Germany. Earlier that year we had hosted a student and now it was my turn to attend school and live with him. I fundraised my butt off in order to go but I did it. Anywho, I came back from Germany in late July to find that most summer positions were filled. Asha, one of my best friends, had been hired at Menards so I headed there first for work. As "luck" would have it, I was hired. Imagine if you will bright orange, cheaply made polos. Or, bright orange cheaply made v-neck sweaters. At some point in my tenure there we were given bibs and thus had some more apparel flexibility. My time at Menards taught me the value of 10 minutes. For an eight hour shift you had two ten minute breaks and a half an hour. Your ten minutes began the moment that you stepped off the floor. If you wanted to go to the bathroom or get a pop, you were down by 3-4 minutes. You were able to sit for all of 5 and then race back downstairs from the break room to cashier more of your life away.
From the time I was a young child, I loved the beeping sound that items made when they flashed across a checkout counter. Who knew it would be so anti-climactic. I mean, yes, I did find it satisfying to beep things, for a while, but it lost its fun when people were grumpy or impatient, which seemed to be the temperament of most customers. Back in the day, checks were the norm and we had to always ask for ID. This was a horrific experience for some customers, for inexplicable reasons, and I seemed to take a verbal beating for this request daily. I became a ten key master. I could type in the numbers without looking as I stretched myself over the counter to see the SKU number on a giant bag of salt. It felt good to be proficient at something. However, such proficiency made you see how one could become a lifer. There were several cashiers who had that weathered, I've been here for a long time, look. This frightened me. Or, women had started as cashiers and been promoted to head cashier, which meant wearing a head-set and responding to our "dings" for help. This power trip for them was huge and they wielded it over us like a sword... or something.
There were several more creepy guys who worked there, wearing their tool belt like a badge of honor. A young girl could have more than one icky relationship with an older Menards employee if he or she wanted to. Ick. Still, there were a decent amount of cute, high school aged boys, namely a trumpet player from my high school named Mike and a super nice guy from the rival high school named Jeff. These two members of the Menards staff were the reason I requested to move to the hardware department. Let me be clear: I have no knowledge of hardware or any real interest, but I liked the freedom to walk around my department as opposed to being relegated to the cashier box-- and, I liked these two boys. More often than not, I was sent to the screw and nail aisle and asked to straighten. When it was the holiday time, I was the one who set up and decorated all of the trees. Eventually, with no sign of a relationship with either of these two guys in sight and with more than enough anecdotes to merit a sexual harassment suit from the other men in the department, I returned to cashiering.
The world of cashiers can be as political as the next office. Who is put on what register, for example, determined the level of freezing cold you were exposed to during the winter months. The slow lanes were often counted out first, which meant going home. I can recall a busy Sunday when I was supposed to be off work at a certain time so I could attend my brother's confirmation, but for whatever reason, things were backed up in the money room and I was left on my register. I remember Nancy, a grumpy but occasionally funny head cashier, snapped at my brother when he told me wearily that we needed to go. Getting off work at Menards, on-time, was a rarity. Each cashier had to total their checks and credit card receipts and if things didn't match, we had to stay until they did.
I recall one cool story from Menards that involved extortion and theft. Our office manager, who counted out our drawers, was voiding out checks and taking the cash equivalent of the money. She made out with at least 100,000 dollars. Her demise meant that her assistant manager could kiss any hopes of a promotion good-bye because they faulted her for not noticing it earlier. Bummer.
I saw high school peers of mine stay on at Menards long enough to become head cashiers. I went to Iowa for school and they stayed behind. It was strange to see your peers follow one life path while I was on such a different one. On all of my breaks from college, through my sophomore year, I worked at Menards. College was wicked expensive and even though I had work study there, it went straight to my tuition. The money I made over breaks was my only means to pay my portion of the cable bill or buy snacks, etc. At the time, I resented this. Other friends returned from college and spent the whole of their breaks socializing and avoiding their parents. I donned my blue smock and cashiered a way. Still, it made me appreciate the luxury of college. When I got back to my small dorm room and had only to walk across campus to eat or attend class, I was grateful for the freedom and privilege of a college education.
Interesting notes:
* For whatever magical reason, Jeff from hardware and I did become good friends. He was quiet and shy by nature and it used to be a pattern for me to try and "peel the onion" as it were with those kinds of guys. We came pals and even went to a formal at my school together. Nice guy.
* On the summer after my freshman year of college I was moved up to the returns desk, a mini promotion of sorts, which meant I did exchanges, etc. and got yelled at a whole lot more for my request for a receipt.
* The summer after my first year of college I agreed to a date with one of the older guys in the store. It was a lame date. Truly. I think we bowled. Lame.
* In addition to working at Menards once summer began, I picked up an extra job at the video store in the next town. I'd work days at Menards and then close up the video store around 10. Then, since we are nocturnal at this stage of our life, my friend would pick me up and we'd hang out with two buddies of ours- Mike and Mark. There wasn't as much cashiering and typing at the video store, but I got free movies so this was a perk. On a gross note, video update had an adult section so I met my fair share of creepy people and was also astonished by the number of "normal" people who ducked back into that section to check out our selection. Possibly the most heinous of situations was renting a porn to a former high school teacher. You can't imagine the indignity and embarrassment.
First though, I went to Germany:) The summer after my sophomore year I studied abroad for about a month in Germany. Earlier that year we had hosted a student and now it was my turn to attend school and live with him. I fundraised my butt off in order to go but I did it. Anywho, I came back from Germany in late July to find that most summer positions were filled. Asha, one of my best friends, had been hired at Menards so I headed there first for work. As "luck" would have it, I was hired. Imagine if you will bright orange, cheaply made polos. Or, bright orange cheaply made v-neck sweaters. At some point in my tenure there we were given bibs and thus had some more apparel flexibility. My time at Menards taught me the value of 10 minutes. For an eight hour shift you had two ten minute breaks and a half an hour. Your ten minutes began the moment that you stepped off the floor. If you wanted to go to the bathroom or get a pop, you were down by 3-4 minutes. You were able to sit for all of 5 and then race back downstairs from the break room to cashier more of your life away.
From the time I was a young child, I loved the beeping sound that items made when they flashed across a checkout counter. Who knew it would be so anti-climactic. I mean, yes, I did find it satisfying to beep things, for a while, but it lost its fun when people were grumpy or impatient, which seemed to be the temperament of most customers. Back in the day, checks were the norm and we had to always ask for ID. This was a horrific experience for some customers, for inexplicable reasons, and I seemed to take a verbal beating for this request daily. I became a ten key master. I could type in the numbers without looking as I stretched myself over the counter to see the SKU number on a giant bag of salt. It felt good to be proficient at something. However, such proficiency made you see how one could become a lifer. There were several cashiers who had that weathered, I've been here for a long time, look. This frightened me. Or, women had started as cashiers and been promoted to head cashier, which meant wearing a head-set and responding to our "dings" for help. This power trip for them was huge and they wielded it over us like a sword... or something.
There were several more creepy guys who worked there, wearing their tool belt like a badge of honor. A young girl could have more than one icky relationship with an older Menards employee if he or she wanted to. Ick. Still, there were a decent amount of cute, high school aged boys, namely a trumpet player from my high school named Mike and a super nice guy from the rival high school named Jeff. These two members of the Menards staff were the reason I requested to move to the hardware department. Let me be clear: I have no knowledge of hardware or any real interest, but I liked the freedom to walk around my department as opposed to being relegated to the cashier box-- and, I liked these two boys. More often than not, I was sent to the screw and nail aisle and asked to straighten. When it was the holiday time, I was the one who set up and decorated all of the trees. Eventually, with no sign of a relationship with either of these two guys in sight and with more than enough anecdotes to merit a sexual harassment suit from the other men in the department, I returned to cashiering.
The world of cashiers can be as political as the next office. Who is put on what register, for example, determined the level of freezing cold you were exposed to during the winter months. The slow lanes were often counted out first, which meant going home. I can recall a busy Sunday when I was supposed to be off work at a certain time so I could attend my brother's confirmation, but for whatever reason, things were backed up in the money room and I was left on my register. I remember Nancy, a grumpy but occasionally funny head cashier, snapped at my brother when he told me wearily that we needed to go. Getting off work at Menards, on-time, was a rarity. Each cashier had to total their checks and credit card receipts and if things didn't match, we had to stay until they did.
I recall one cool story from Menards that involved extortion and theft. Our office manager, who counted out our drawers, was voiding out checks and taking the cash equivalent of the money. She made out with at least 100,000 dollars. Her demise meant that her assistant manager could kiss any hopes of a promotion good-bye because they faulted her for not noticing it earlier. Bummer.
I saw high school peers of mine stay on at Menards long enough to become head cashiers. I went to Iowa for school and they stayed behind. It was strange to see your peers follow one life path while I was on such a different one. On all of my breaks from college, through my sophomore year, I worked at Menards. College was wicked expensive and even though I had work study there, it went straight to my tuition. The money I made over breaks was my only means to pay my portion of the cable bill or buy snacks, etc. At the time, I resented this. Other friends returned from college and spent the whole of their breaks socializing and avoiding their parents. I donned my blue smock and cashiered a way. Still, it made me appreciate the luxury of college. When I got back to my small dorm room and had only to walk across campus to eat or attend class, I was grateful for the freedom and privilege of a college education.
Interesting notes:
* For whatever magical reason, Jeff from hardware and I did become good friends. He was quiet and shy by nature and it used to be a pattern for me to try and "peel the onion" as it were with those kinds of guys. We came pals and even went to a formal at my school together. Nice guy.
* On the summer after my freshman year of college I was moved up to the returns desk, a mini promotion of sorts, which meant I did exchanges, etc. and got yelled at a whole lot more for my request for a receipt.
* The summer after my first year of college I agreed to a date with one of the older guys in the store. It was a lame date. Truly. I think we bowled. Lame.
* In addition to working at Menards once summer began, I picked up an extra job at the video store in the next town. I'd work days at Menards and then close up the video store around 10. Then, since we are nocturnal at this stage of our life, my friend would pick me up and we'd hang out with two buddies of ours- Mike and Mark. There wasn't as much cashiering and typing at the video store, but I got free movies so this was a perk. On a gross note, video update had an adult section so I met my fair share of creepy people and was also astonished by the number of "normal" people who ducked back into that section to check out our selection. Possibly the most heinous of situations was renting a porn to a former high school teacher. You can't imagine the indignity and embarrassment.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Tales of a High School "Torrid Affair"
I met Erik in one of the school computer labs. I was after school working on the school newspaper or literary arts magazine; I was a junkie for publications and writing even then. Who knows why he was there. Erik wasn't on my girl radar for a few reasons: he wasn't in band and rather than excelling in English, like myself:), he was a Math genius, which I was not. Sometimes in high school we are defined by our gifts and while that identity can be positive, it also streamlines who we know or feel we should get to know. Erik and I had different groups of friends and in a large high school you can function without butting up against another social group with relative ease. I don't think I saw him at all throughout the day, but with some anticipation, I knew that staying after school meant seeing him.
Erik didn't fit my standard profile of cute guy- brown hair and thin, band geek and one of my classmates. Erik had dirty blond hair and was, well, skinny too. Smart, but far from pretentious about it and that was intriguing to me since I had been sucked into the AP world. Regardless of what circles we ran in, we wound up visiting in the computer lab every afternoon while I did my thing and he did his. Then, we would walk down from the 3rd floor lab together, visit and head to our respective activity bus'. I remember him once carrying my bag for me. It was laden with every textbook we were required to study from and was quite heavy. What brought on the adolescent chivalry? We liked one another.
Details about our timeline are fuzzy but I know we were trading ridiculously cheesy, but inflamed phone calls over Thanksgiving break. Back in those days, my separated parents still got together for holiday meals because they thought it was good for my brothers and I. In retrospect, my mother probably knew that we wouldn't see our Dad at all if we didn't include him. For some reason, my Dad hosted Turkey Day that year, which seemed to add to the allure of phone calls back and forth from a place I rarely spent any time.
If I may pause for an aside: couples of today (heck, people, in general) have a different kind of access to their loved ones than my generation. With no cell phones in sight and the fear of a parent answering a phone, talking to your significant other could be a chore. Conversations tied up a single home phone line and one found themselves pestered by others who needed the phone. Or, you found yourself receiving a busy signal again and again and again. Plus, calling your loved one meant speaking to a parent and if you called multiple time, annoying said parent. Finally, you couldn't keep insane relationship hours because no one's home phone was ringing past 9 unless there was an emergency. In our house, we had two phones, one in my Mom's room and one in the kitchen. It would be years later before we had a cordless phone.
Back to high school relationship #1: My high school was all about dances. Every month there was a themed dance sponsored by different school activities. Dances were huge fundraisers so everyone counted on hosting one. We had two semi-formals, Sadie Hawkins and a flurry of other casual goofy-titled dances. Erik and I shared company at one dance, though we arrived with our respective friends, not together. Surely there were slow dances that night that fed into a romantic ideal of mine and when we- PG-13 alert for anyone who doesn't want to know this much about Becky- kissed for the first time that night in the (insert gagging noise) parking lot, I was stunned. With what was surely glee and embarrassment, I hopped into my friends car and he returned to his. We followed relatively the same path to our homes for a bit and at the intersection where my ride went left and he continued forward, we got a little carried away with our waving and Erik managed to hit another car. Crash. He was ok physically and so was the other driver but I think most people can imagine the angst of a new driver and their first crash. Not good. And young male drivers are expensive to insure.
Later that night I had my Mom drive us past Erik's house to make sure he was ok. Note: I didn't go up to the house and I didn't call since it was past 10. Why the drive by? Erik had alluded to a dysfunctional relationship with his Dad and I was worried that crashing one of the family cars was going to bring down the thunder. Since the exterior of his home offered little proof of his emotional or physical safety I slept poorly that night, but still give my Mom props for agreeing to drive me past his house to pacify my nerves.
Alas, this wasn't a well-timed relationship. My very best friend Stephanie moved away at the beginning of December and her absence (as well as her twins, who I was also close to) made me wearily sad. Combined with my growing awareness of my Dad's devoted membership to the Super Loser Dad club, our perpetual poverty and family problems, I hit a wall. I stopped eating and entered a mighty depression. That trimester that I met and "went out with" (having gone on maybe one date) Erik I also missed school 20 times and my ability to maintain the illusion of do-everything (well) girl disappeared. Thus, I wasn't a super fun gal to date, let alone understand.
I think I got dumped in a note that I opened during AP European History class. Male teachers don't like to see girls cry; it's like they've asked for a hug and a tampon at the same time-- that's how uncomfortable they look, so my teacher gladly excused me to cry in the bathroom stall. If memory serves, the note was kind, but alluded to the many complicated issues I was facing and suggested this wasn't "our" time. I'm sure I read that as both a hearty rejection and also an allusion to our lasting love. (Insert barfing noise). And that was that.
Except for a brief summer reunion...
Erik went on to marry the girl he dated immediately after me. Senior year for him was a pot-hazed time. We actually had a class together senior year but I had disdain for his druggy ways and poked fun at him with my friends. Rumor had it he was never prepared for his Calculus class. Ohh, the intrigue and the tragedy. Erik and his girlfriend got pregnant right away and his chances for college (remember, he was a math smartie pants) were dashed.
A couple months ago Erik and I found one another on Facebook. He has three kids (14, 12 and 2) and is re-married to the post-Becky girlfriend. Life has been difficult for him, his emails suggest, but he seems to be in a good place now. I wish I could tell you that 15 years after high school you'll be DONE with the drama from those days, or at least let go of some of that emotional baggage. To a large extent that is true. I have precious few high school memories. But, when it comes to the "first" sort of experiences, like Erik, our mind is careful to preserve those thoughts... and I'm glad of that.
Erik didn't fit my standard profile of cute guy- brown hair and thin, band geek and one of my classmates. Erik had dirty blond hair and was, well, skinny too. Smart, but far from pretentious about it and that was intriguing to me since I had been sucked into the AP world. Regardless of what circles we ran in, we wound up visiting in the computer lab every afternoon while I did my thing and he did his. Then, we would walk down from the 3rd floor lab together, visit and head to our respective activity bus'. I remember him once carrying my bag for me. It was laden with every textbook we were required to study from and was quite heavy. What brought on the adolescent chivalry? We liked one another.
Details about our timeline are fuzzy but I know we were trading ridiculously cheesy, but inflamed phone calls over Thanksgiving break. Back in those days, my separated parents still got together for holiday meals because they thought it was good for my brothers and I. In retrospect, my mother probably knew that we wouldn't see our Dad at all if we didn't include him. For some reason, my Dad hosted Turkey Day that year, which seemed to add to the allure of phone calls back and forth from a place I rarely spent any time.
If I may pause for an aside: couples of today (heck, people, in general) have a different kind of access to their loved ones than my generation. With no cell phones in sight and the fear of a parent answering a phone, talking to your significant other could be a chore. Conversations tied up a single home phone line and one found themselves pestered by others who needed the phone. Or, you found yourself receiving a busy signal again and again and again. Plus, calling your loved one meant speaking to a parent and if you called multiple time, annoying said parent. Finally, you couldn't keep insane relationship hours because no one's home phone was ringing past 9 unless there was an emergency. In our house, we had two phones, one in my Mom's room and one in the kitchen. It would be years later before we had a cordless phone.
Back to high school relationship #1: My high school was all about dances. Every month there was a themed dance sponsored by different school activities. Dances were huge fundraisers so everyone counted on hosting one. We had two semi-formals, Sadie Hawkins and a flurry of other casual goofy-titled dances. Erik and I shared company at one dance, though we arrived with our respective friends, not together. Surely there were slow dances that night that fed into a romantic ideal of mine and when we- PG-13 alert for anyone who doesn't want to know this much about Becky- kissed for the first time that night in the (insert gagging noise) parking lot, I was stunned. With what was surely glee and embarrassment, I hopped into my friends car and he returned to his. We followed relatively the same path to our homes for a bit and at the intersection where my ride went left and he continued forward, we got a little carried away with our waving and Erik managed to hit another car. Crash. He was ok physically and so was the other driver but I think most people can imagine the angst of a new driver and their first crash. Not good. And young male drivers are expensive to insure.
Later that night I had my Mom drive us past Erik's house to make sure he was ok. Note: I didn't go up to the house and I didn't call since it was past 10. Why the drive by? Erik had alluded to a dysfunctional relationship with his Dad and I was worried that crashing one of the family cars was going to bring down the thunder. Since the exterior of his home offered little proof of his emotional or physical safety I slept poorly that night, but still give my Mom props for agreeing to drive me past his house to pacify my nerves.
Alas, this wasn't a well-timed relationship. My very best friend Stephanie moved away at the beginning of December and her absence (as well as her twins, who I was also close to) made me wearily sad. Combined with my growing awareness of my Dad's devoted membership to the Super Loser Dad club, our perpetual poverty and family problems, I hit a wall. I stopped eating and entered a mighty depression. That trimester that I met and "went out with" (having gone on maybe one date) Erik I also missed school 20 times and my ability to maintain the illusion of do-everything (well) girl disappeared. Thus, I wasn't a super fun gal to date, let alone understand.
I think I got dumped in a note that I opened during AP European History class. Male teachers don't like to see girls cry; it's like they've asked for a hug and a tampon at the same time-- that's how uncomfortable they look, so my teacher gladly excused me to cry in the bathroom stall. If memory serves, the note was kind, but alluded to the many complicated issues I was facing and suggested this wasn't "our" time. I'm sure I read that as both a hearty rejection and also an allusion to our lasting love. (Insert barfing noise). And that was that.
Except for a brief summer reunion...
Erik went on to marry the girl he dated immediately after me. Senior year for him was a pot-hazed time. We actually had a class together senior year but I had disdain for his druggy ways and poked fun at him with my friends. Rumor had it he was never prepared for his Calculus class. Ohh, the intrigue and the tragedy. Erik and his girlfriend got pregnant right away and his chances for college (remember, he was a math smartie pants) were dashed.
A couple months ago Erik and I found one another on Facebook. He has three kids (14, 12 and 2) and is re-married to the post-Becky girlfriend. Life has been difficult for him, his emails suggest, but he seems to be in a good place now. I wish I could tell you that 15 years after high school you'll be DONE with the drama from those days, or at least let go of some of that emotional baggage. To a large extent that is true. I have precious few high school memories. But, when it comes to the "first" sort of experiences, like Erik, our mind is careful to preserve those thoughts... and I'm glad of that.
Drafting
I've composed two additional short passages about my Teen years but they seem incomplete or the title I started with ended up not fitting the content. I think this is a normal writing phenomenon and one that we should embrace. Good writing can occur in fits and starts and does not always emerge from our finger tips fit as a fiddle. In fact, revision is nearly always necessary and prudent. It is wise to rethink and reconsider, to tweak and to play with our art. Take a look at a painting up close, for example. There's rarely a single layer of paint, but instead several different layers of mixed, blended and shaded colors. That's how we make things beautiful and mature our art. SO, please embrace drafting and celebrate every stage of your writing. Post what you write. Write every day. Practice your craft. Hone your voice. Refrain from censoring yourself too much.
Have a terrific day of writing. See my new post below.
Have a terrific day of writing. See my new post below.
Tales of a High School Singleton
Where does it come from, that horrible sense of worthlessness that accompanies being single in high school? Naturally, my self-esteem was measured against the most beautiful and wealthy girls in my high school. It also hinged on whether or not any boy paid attention to me. In retrospect, I should have simply relished the "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants" time afforded to me, but even those girls get boyfriends eventually. I had quality friends throughout high school, having left behind the angst of middle school cliques. The big high school experience allowed me to find a niche that went unnoticed by the popular group, or at the very least, those kids came to understand that the "advanced" academic students were going places in life. Even with marvelous friends to laugh, bond and "mature" with, we spent the bulk of our time focused on the opposite gender the mystery of relationships. I can recall one girl in my freshman class who dated a senior nearly all year long. She was one of the privileged few to attend prom, a privilege afforded to only juniors and seniors-- unless you were lucky enough to be asked by one. Hallie- that was her name- had a tanning bed in her home and was perpetually bronzed. She wasn't terribly bright, but she was cute, always wore the right thing, and was a very good basketball player who made the varsity team. I didn't have any of that on my resume. I was Asian and one of maybe 4 kids of color in my class of 450. I wasn't in sports and I never had more than maybe one name brand item in my closet. Life might have been ho-hum Hannah Montana Cheery if not for one thing: I was constantly crushing on some or a few different guys. For example, the junior skater/artist fellow who never spoke or the pretentious but keenly interesting editor of the literary arts magazine. There was always a drummer or two that caught my eye, the tenor saxophone section of 2 consisted of 2 very talented and smart boys.. the list went on and on. I didn't devote, or so my memory may deceive me, too many tears to my rarely expressed crush, but I'm sure I spoke and wrote of it too often and too tragically. I don't think it was until my junior year that I stumbled into my first boyfriend unexpectedly...
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Tales of a High School Girl with Bad Hair
My mother tried to be culturally competent and take me to events for adopted Korean kids. In middle and high school I was part of a teen group and my Mom would drive me from the burbs to St. Paul for the bi-monthly meetings. Looking back, I think that in addition to the cultural support groups, I craved more subtle accommodations too-- like a woman who knew how to cut my thick, course, stick straight Asian hair.
Her name was Donna and she had been cutting my hair since 3rd grade. Each haircut was much the same: a too short bob with too much layering and dreaded bangs. While I was learning to assert myself at home and in the classroom, in Donna's chair I would freeze up and let her do whatever she wanted with my hair. Awful. Let me paint a picture for you: 5'2, 100 pounds, no butt or bust to speak of, and too short hair cuts that made me look younger than I was. And this "do" on top of my head was what I was forced to shape and primp each morning. I have very few distinct memories from this time of my life but I know that on the day of school pictures in 9th grade I actually cried with frustration because my hair was that unattractive. The braces, facial acne and pastel blue and pink sweater certainly didn't help, but at the core of it was a haircut I detested. Why didn't I ever ask for a new stylist? Because adolescence can box you into thinking that your reality is the reality. We had little money and Donna- no surprise- was reasonably priced.
I did all the things a person might do to save a haircut and look. I blew dry my hair, curled things and then added product. Every day. I even wore make-up. But a young girl can only do some much with her hair and if her hair matches her concept of self-- meaning, out of sorts, not fashionable, hopelessly unattractive-- well, then, she isn't going to search for a new salon because she figures her hair fits who she is.
When I think back on all of the sleep I might have enjoyed if I'd only embraced hair mediocrity instead of working towards it...
Sadly, it was only once I'd finished college that I completely left Donna behind. Now teaching in my hometown, at the rival high school mind you, I could reinvent my high school self. The cut was more expensive and I felt pressed to buy the expensive salon shampoo, but it did free me from Donna and for that I am thankful. Nowadays, I am a hair cut wanderer. After 6 marvelous years with Miss Randy, a friend and fantastic stylist (who has now moved to FL), I survive on 3-4 haircuts a year at varied places. In the last five years I've gone a whole year without a haircut, donated 10 inches to charity, let my hair air dry for about a year, twisted it into a fake bun for about a year... all signs that my measurement of self is not consumed with my image. Or, have I forsaken the concept of beauty...
Her name was Donna and she had been cutting my hair since 3rd grade. Each haircut was much the same: a too short bob with too much layering and dreaded bangs. While I was learning to assert myself at home and in the classroom, in Donna's chair I would freeze up and let her do whatever she wanted with my hair. Awful. Let me paint a picture for you: 5'2, 100 pounds, no butt or bust to speak of, and too short hair cuts that made me look younger than I was. And this "do" on top of my head was what I was forced to shape and primp each morning. I have very few distinct memories from this time of my life but I know that on the day of school pictures in 9th grade I actually cried with frustration because my hair was that unattractive. The braces, facial acne and pastel blue and pink sweater certainly didn't help, but at the core of it was a haircut I detested. Why didn't I ever ask for a new stylist? Because adolescence can box you into thinking that your reality is the reality. We had little money and Donna- no surprise- was reasonably priced.
I did all the things a person might do to save a haircut and look. I blew dry my hair, curled things and then added product. Every day. I even wore make-up. But a young girl can only do some much with her hair and if her hair matches her concept of self-- meaning, out of sorts, not fashionable, hopelessly unattractive-- well, then, she isn't going to search for a new salon because she figures her hair fits who she is.
When I think back on all of the sleep I might have enjoyed if I'd only embraced hair mediocrity instead of working towards it...
Sadly, it was only once I'd finished college that I completely left Donna behind. Now teaching in my hometown, at the rival high school mind you, I could reinvent my high school self. The cut was more expensive and I felt pressed to buy the expensive salon shampoo, but it did free me from Donna and for that I am thankful. Nowadays, I am a hair cut wanderer. After 6 marvelous years with Miss Randy, a friend and fantastic stylist (who has now moved to FL), I survive on 3-4 haircuts a year at varied places. In the last five years I've gone a whole year without a haircut, donated 10 inches to charity, let my hair air dry for about a year, twisted it into a fake bun for about a year... all signs that my measurement of self is not consumed with my image. Or, have I forsaken the concept of beauty...
Monday, December 8, 2008
Ebbing frustration
I won't be able to sleep tonight unless I address something right away.
I just spent some time checking to see who posted and how the stories are forming. It was highly stressful to me to find that some people didn't post at all and others posted very little. Let me be clear: simply because this class is non-traditional in it's format does not mean that my expectations are any different. Choosing not to do in an assignment is not OK. If you post the assignment later in the day, terrific, but choosing not to do it in favor of something that takes you 10 minutes to do is insulting to me. Don't get me wrong: I like the misc. post that is thoughtful and productive, meaning that from beginning to end it shows a meaningful thought process (ie. working through writer's block, processing emotional events). I give you credit for misc. posts because I care about writing for health, for understanding and for fun. However, I also care about writing with purpose, which is what I strive to do. This year, I tell my classes that in response to any question I pose, they need to write at least as much as I do (even if it's just in how I frame the question). I've read my post from yesterday and I wrote a bunch. So, imagine how annoying it is for me to invest x amount of time and to observe .... have to run and see what Quinn just did.. his Dad just called. More later.
Back now. And to see that some people managed to spend 50 odd minutes in front of a computer without composing a single thing. Some people opened their open responses with the caveat of "I'm going to write at home when I'm more focused"; what I admire about those same people is that they use the hour to write what they need to get off their chest so they can LATER write with a story in mind.
I give a lot of thought to what I put into my profession, just as you surely measure how much you give to being a student. I have my bad days, for sure, and then other days where I'm in the zone. With this class, I do my best to show you daily what I'm about and what I value, what I know and what I have to teach/model. Each day I give you a little of my writing voice and a dose of clear writing, and, let's be honest, insight into my life and who I am.
If the nature and frequency of posting does not improve, I will consider revoking some student's access to a computer. I will blog each day for those who wish to use the blogging vehicle to its fullest and I will teach a traditional English class in my classroom for the remainder of students who are not achieving.
Thank you to those students who wrote furiously and energetically yesterday. I look forward to a new day of writing and the continuation of memoirs and stories that intrigue and excite the reader in me.
Cheers.
I just spent some time checking to see who posted and how the stories are forming. It was highly stressful to me to find that some people didn't post at all and others posted very little. Let me be clear: simply because this class is non-traditional in it's format does not mean that my expectations are any different. Choosing not to do in an assignment is not OK. If you post the assignment later in the day, terrific, but choosing not to do it in favor of something that takes you 10 minutes to do is insulting to me. Don't get me wrong: I like the misc. post that is thoughtful and productive, meaning that from beginning to end it shows a meaningful thought process (ie. working through writer's block, processing emotional events). I give you credit for misc. posts because I care about writing for health, for understanding and for fun. However, I also care about writing with purpose, which is what I strive to do. This year, I tell my classes that in response to any question I pose, they need to write at least as much as I do (even if it's just in how I frame the question). I've read my post from yesterday and I wrote a bunch. So, imagine how annoying it is for me to invest x amount of time and to observe .... have to run and see what Quinn just did.. his Dad just called. More later.
Back now. And to see that some people managed to spend 50 odd minutes in front of a computer without composing a single thing. Some people opened their open responses with the caveat of "I'm going to write at home when I'm more focused"; what I admire about those same people is that they use the hour to write what they need to get off their chest so they can LATER write with a story in mind.
I give a lot of thought to what I put into my profession, just as you surely measure how much you give to being a student. I have my bad days, for sure, and then other days where I'm in the zone. With this class, I do my best to show you daily what I'm about and what I value, what I know and what I have to teach/model. Each day I give you a little of my writing voice and a dose of clear writing, and, let's be honest, insight into my life and who I am.
If the nature and frequency of posting does not improve, I will consider revoking some student's access to a computer. I will blog each day for those who wish to use the blogging vehicle to its fullest and I will teach a traditional English class in my classroom for the remainder of students who are not achieving.
Thank you to those students who wrote furiously and energetically yesterday. I look forward to a new day of writing and the continuation of memoirs and stories that intrigue and excite the reader in me.
Cheers.
Blast my home computer
Good morning bloggers. I tried to post from home but we're having some internet "issues", or at the very least, blogger.com is one busy site on the weekends. Excuse the formatting from below. I cut and pasted my post into an email and am not going to take the time to re-space it just now.
Thus far we have done the following: introduced ourselves and personalities to the community; researched other
(in)famous blogs and chronicled both the topics blogs cover and the
diverse voices that compose them; centered our writing on a particular
topic of interest following research and tinkered with our vocabulary,
grammar, poetic license and critique. Now, I think we need a creative
break from our focused energy on writing analysis, research and
reflection. So, this week I would like you to compose a story-- a
progressive one. Each day you need to contribute to your story. Your
story could be action/adventure, romance, memoir or mystery. It could
be fiction or true. I want it to be vivid, entertaining, descriptive
and well-written.
For me, I'm going to try and recollect pieces from my life as a high
schooler. Each day I am going to start the new section with the phrase
Tales of a High School... and fill in the blank with a new word and
series of related anecdotes. It should be a good time:)
Below, is the beginning... or at least a draft of one:)
Tales of a High School...
Band geek. I spent most mornings of high school in the bandroom.
After I'd dropped off my coat and such at my locker, I would head to
the bandroom to drop off my flute. I was pressed to remain in band
through high school, a decision of my mother's that I fought tooth and
nail against. But despite my skilled teenage oratory, my mother
over-ruled me when it came to what classes I could register for.
Needless to say, her wisdom had more foresight than my impassioned
arguments against playing the flute. My closest friends were in band
and we all ran in the same academically over-achieving circles. Our
marching band performed at the World Series in '91 and then at the
Super Bowl televised event at the Target Center. I went to Disney
World through band and maintained crushes on boys throughout the band.
And yet, I never achieved in band. I was a lousy flute player, truly
bad. I was nearly always last or next to last chair. I froze during
auditions every year and almost never practiced for lessons. To this
day, I will have dreams where I realize I've missed a whole term of
flute lessons and I'm now going to fail class. In middle school, we
had to have our parents sign off on our practice sessions. I would
write in my "actual" time in pencil and after my mother signed off on
it, I would adjust it so my grade wouldn't suffer. Of course, my grade
was also comprised of my progress and I made very little on the flute.
Still, the band teachers were nice enough to NOT call me a failure.
There are many things adults don't tell you as a teen and one of them
is that sometimes the kids who are under-achieving, are great company:)
Some of my favorite high school pals were also flute rejects. We
would hold our flutes to our mouths in a mimicry of playing and
especially when tough sections in the music arose, we would smile and
laugh with each other-- they didn't actually think we were going to
"play", did they? Being a really poor flutist also lead to other
opportunities. I was recruited to play the cymbals in the marching
band, for example. To be honest, I would never have memorized the
music on the flute, but I could and did manage to remember when to
crash two pieces of metal together. Impressive, I know. Last, but not
least, I managed to have a crush on someone from nearly every section
of the band, excluding flutes and clarinets which were dominated by
women. Trumpet players, saxophonists, trombonists, drummers... the
names roll off my mind but for privacy sake, I'll abstain from sharing.
Most of all, I felt wholly accepted in the band room and with its
occupants. In the life of an average teenager, that's a pretty hard
thing to find, but it was there, waiting for me every morning when I
entered the band room.
I have printed a story for you to read as an example of one way you could format your story so that you use our class format to your advantage- potentially. Ask me for it:)
If you'd like to respond to the story for extra credit, please do so. If you'd like to respond to my first draft of high school memoirs- for my benefit- please do.
Thus far we have done the following: introduced ourselves and personalities to the community; researched other
(in)famous blogs and chronicled both the topics blogs cover and the
diverse voices that compose them; centered our writing on a particular
topic of interest following research and tinkered with our vocabulary,
grammar, poetic license and critique. Now, I think we need a creative
break from our focused energy on writing analysis, research and
reflection. So, this week I would like you to compose a story-- a
progressive one. Each day you need to contribute to your story. Your
story could be action/adventure, romance, memoir or mystery. It could
be fiction or true. I want it to be vivid, entertaining, descriptive
and well-written.
For me, I'm going to try and recollect pieces from my life as a high
schooler. Each day I am going to start the new section with the phrase
Tales of a High School... and fill in the blank with a new word and
series of related anecdotes. It should be a good time:)
Below, is the beginning... or at least a draft of one:)
Tales of a High School...
Band geek. I spent most mornings of high school in the bandroom.
After I'd dropped off my coat and such at my locker, I would head to
the bandroom to drop off my flute. I was pressed to remain in band
through high school, a decision of my mother's that I fought tooth and
nail against. But despite my skilled teenage oratory, my mother
over-ruled me when it came to what classes I could register for.
Needless to say, her wisdom had more foresight than my impassioned
arguments against playing the flute. My closest friends were in band
and we all ran in the same academically over-achieving circles. Our
marching band performed at the World Series in '91 and then at the
Super Bowl televised event at the Target Center. I went to Disney
World through band and maintained crushes on boys throughout the band.
And yet, I never achieved in band. I was a lousy flute player, truly
bad. I was nearly always last or next to last chair. I froze during
auditions every year and almost never practiced for lessons. To this
day, I will have dreams where I realize I've missed a whole term of
flute lessons and I'm now going to fail class. In middle school, we
had to have our parents sign off on our practice sessions. I would
write in my "actual" time in pencil and after my mother signed off on
it, I would adjust it so my grade wouldn't suffer. Of course, my grade
was also comprised of my progress and I made very little on the flute.
Still, the band teachers were nice enough to NOT call me a failure.
There are many things adults don't tell you as a teen and one of them
is that sometimes the kids who are under-achieving, are great company:)
Some of my favorite high school pals were also flute rejects. We
would hold our flutes to our mouths in a mimicry of playing and
especially when tough sections in the music arose, we would smile and
laugh with each other-- they didn't actually think we were going to
"play", did they? Being a really poor flutist also lead to other
opportunities. I was recruited to play the cymbals in the marching
band, for example. To be honest, I would never have memorized the
music on the flute, but I could and did manage to remember when to
crash two pieces of metal together. Impressive, I know. Last, but not
least, I managed to have a crush on someone from nearly every section
of the band, excluding flutes and clarinets which were dominated by
women. Trumpet players, saxophonists, trombonists, drummers... the
names roll off my mind but for privacy sake, I'll abstain from sharing.
Most of all, I felt wholly accepted in the band room and with its
occupants. In the life of an average teenager, that's a pretty hard
thing to find, but it was there, waiting for me every morning when I
entered the band room.
I have printed a story for you to read as an example of one way you could format your story so that you use our class format to your advantage- potentially. Ask me for it:)
If you'd like to respond to the story for extra credit, please do so. If you'd like to respond to my first draft of high school memoirs- for my benefit- please do.
Friday, December 5, 2008
By the numbers
Let me give you some numbers to ponder this morning. 103.8, 102.9 and 3:30. I realize the last one is a time, but it speaks to the same message. Quinn came home from daycare yesterday with a fever and napped on and off throughout the afternoon and evening. He was awake until about 11ish, however, due to the odd napping. His fever was as high as 103.8 and closer to 102.9 around 3:30 in the morning when the whole family was awake. Then, Quinn wanted a waffle and to watch Nemo. Needless to say, I am not well rested and this blog is harried, at best. Here's another startling number I heard on NPR on the way in to work: 553,000. That's the number of jobs lost last month. Can you even conceive of the number of families impacted by this kind of economic shift? It's staggering and mind-boggling. That many people now need new employment, added the thousands who have been out of work for some time now. I'd love to hear what you think about this. For extra credit, post about the economic downturn, how it's impacting your world and those you know.
For today, please create a writer's profile of your own work. Be fair and honest, critical and celebratory. Use the criteria from yesterday. Please read over your entire blog before you post this profile. I would also like for you to include samples from your writing that illustrate your points.
Remember: Tonight by midnight is the last time to post any late blogs from the month of December. Thanks much!
For today, please create a writer's profile of your own work. Be fair and honest, critical and celebratory. Use the criteria from yesterday. Please read over your entire blog before you post this profile. I would also like for you to include samples from your writing that illustrate your points.
Remember: Tonight by midnight is the last time to post any late blogs from the month of December. Thanks much!
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Computers BLegh
By and large, I love computers and I don't typically have moments where
I swear or tantrum about, say, my modum speed. I accept, for example,
that my computer is older and slower than most. I feel privileged to
have a computer in my home so I don't fuss too much, especially since I
only use email and the internet. Luke, on the other hand, as a graphic
designer, is completely unable to use our home computer because the
programs he needs to design are too massive for our old mac. Anyway, I
digress. This morning, I've been trying to get to this site for about
15 minutes. Firefox keeps locking up or being wierd and in Safari, the
blogger.com start page is wacky too, indicating odd rules for cookies
and such. Needless to say, this short vent was necesary for me to
clear my mind-- that's how long it took me to get here.
Note: I've got some progress reports in, well, progress right now. I
want you to know prior to conferences where you stand so you have ample
time to remedy any writing omissions on your part. Conferences are
Tuesday, December 16th-- the Tuesday evening before holiday break.
Reminder: Tomorrow is the very last day to post anything from
November. Please use your writing time wisely so that you meet this
late credit deadline.
Today's task: I would like you to select one class member's blog to
read. Read the whole darn thing, from start to finish. studioussteen
and sillymermaid9 don't have "feeds" so don't forget them when you
consider who you'd like to peruse. After you've read their body of
work in entirety, I would like you to post a blog about their writing.
Please don't give out their name. What to include:
The personality that emerges from their writing topic choices
Their use of language- proficient, punchy or otherwise
Their practice of grammar, spelling and punctuation
Their knack for descriptive and figurative language
Who their perceived audience is
How their work reads as a whole, stylistically and with or without voice
Level of writing engagement or commitment from them
Based on what you've read, what kind of a writer is this individual?
Please be thoughtful, detailed and descriptive in your writing profile.
When finished, please go to this site:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/14/books/review/10Best-t.html?_r=1&hp
If it doesn't link, head to nytimes.com and read the article about the
10 best books of 2008. Extra credit to anyone who seeks out one of
these books, reads it and reviews it.
I swear or tantrum about, say, my modum speed. I accept, for example,
that my computer is older and slower than most. I feel privileged to
have a computer in my home so I don't fuss too much, especially since I
only use email and the internet. Luke, on the other hand, as a graphic
designer, is completely unable to use our home computer because the
programs he needs to design are too massive for our old mac. Anyway, I
digress. This morning, I've been trying to get to this site for about
15 minutes. Firefox keeps locking up or being wierd and in Safari, the
blogger.com start page is wacky too, indicating odd rules for cookies
and such. Needless to say, this short vent was necesary for me to
clear my mind-- that's how long it took me to get here.
Note: I've got some progress reports in, well, progress right now. I
want you to know prior to conferences where you stand so you have ample
time to remedy any writing omissions on your part. Conferences are
Tuesday, December 16th-- the Tuesday evening before holiday break.
Reminder: Tomorrow is the very last day to post anything from
November. Please use your writing time wisely so that you meet this
late credit deadline.
Today's task: I would like you to select one class member's blog to
read. Read the whole darn thing, from start to finish. studioussteen
and sillymermaid9 don't have "feeds" so don't forget them when you
consider who you'd like to peruse. After you've read their body of
work in entirety, I would like you to post a blog about their writing.
Please don't give out their name. What to include:
The personality that emerges from their writing topic choices
Their use of language- proficient, punchy or otherwise
Their practice of grammar, spelling and punctuation
Their knack for descriptive and figurative language
Who their perceived audience is
How their work reads as a whole, stylistically and with or without voice
Level of writing engagement or commitment from them
Based on what you've read, what kind of a writer is this individual?
Please be thoughtful, detailed and descriptive in your writing profile.
When finished, please go to this site:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/14/books/review/10Best-t.html?_r=1&hp
If it doesn't link, head to nytimes.com and read the article about the
10 best books of 2008. Extra credit to anyone who seeks out one of
these books, reads it and reviews it.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
In the Moment
Walking in to school today I was feeling sublimely good. I had a hot mocha in my hands, a coffee cake stowed away in my bag for a snack later and I wasn't late to school. In addition to all of that good fortune, I was not wearing a winter coat and was feeling fine. I love that MN conditioning encourages us to layer, but also to be brave about the cold. I see more and more people in fleece zip-ups like the one I wear religiously as opposed to thick parkas. We're down-sizing how we encounter winter. I have to admit too that part of my zeal at being coatless is that I thrive on being a Minnesotan who can tackle the cold. I muse to myself that someone in the south or, say, in CA would be freezing in weather like this, but for me it's no big deal. The great thing about today-- yet another thing- is because I'm not running late (Quinn went to bed at 11 and got up at 7-- go figure!) I can post something for you fresh off my arrival. And that made me think that we all have these moments that we construct in our heads as we experience life vibrantly that are ready-to-write kinds of moments but we're rarely near a pencil or paper when the thought occurs. So, my assignment to you for the next week is to carry a pencil and notebook with you EVERYWHERE and write down whatever comes to mind. Don't worry if they are disconnected or random, but DO keep them. Next week I am going to ask you to share the contents of your daily notebook and develop some of those ideas. Cool. Now, please read my next post because that has my daily assignment for you.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Manipulation
For the past two days, I've had you tweak or at least exercise your more traditional English skills, including vocabulary and grammar. Yesterday (12/2) I asked you to consider how you have acquired language and how the text of that speech influences both your understanding and use of language. Today, I want you to PLAY with language. Please head to magneticpoetry.com and click on "play". Select a kit to begin your composition and then, craft a poem. Once you've completed your poem, please make sure to copy and paste it into a blog for today. Please experiment with at least two different kits and stretch yourself to compose something beyond "Roses are red, violets are blue..."
Have fun and channel your inner poet:)
Have fun and channel your inner poet:)
Monday, December 1, 2008
Tuesday Musings
Today, young scholars, I am sending you back to freerice.com, but this time I would like you to go into categories and test your knowledge of good grammar. My rice goal for you is the same as yesterday, but you'll soon see that determining what "sounds" right is different than the concreteness to knowing the definition of a word versus not knowing. For me, grammar feels instinctive, but surely it came from a legitimate place where I learned rules and guidelines. As far as blogging today, I'd like you to write about the language that surrounds your life. Who are the people who you communicate with most? How do they speak? What is noticeable or patterned about the way they talk to you? Based on the people who've "taught" you to speak and write, what have you learned? What about HOW language has been presented to you shapes how you see the world and that speaker? Read that last sentence again. I'm going deep with this idea. Where does our language emerge from and how does that shape who we become or are? SO, blog on that one for some time and then head back to freerice for some grammar practice. Oh, and please include in your blog the new words you noted from yesterday and how you plan to incorporate them into your daily speech or writing.
Welcome Back, Happy December
A couple years back a speaker for a teacher's workshop opened up our session with a question for a man. Would you swim across a pool of sea water for $10? No. $100. Sure. $10,000. Of course. Now, said the speaker, let's say there's a shark in the water. The man said, "No, not for $10,000". What about a million? The man paused and then said no again. Ten million, the speaker proposed? Maybe, the man considered. What if your child was in the water, the speaker posed? Without pause, the man said, "Yes, I'd get in the water".
I found the question and answer fascinating. How much is our life worth? How much do we value money or what is empowers? How much do we love those closest to us?
A second anecdote from college comes to mind. Back in the days of Freshman Psychology we learned of a case where a woman was brutally raped and murdered outside of her apartment building. Dozens of people watched from their apartment windows while this horrific crime occurred and yet no one, not one single person, called for help.
I believe it's rather extraordinary the way human beings can be remarkably passionate and engaged and also conciliatory and silent. Why do we function at such extremes? And why did a mob of people storm a Walmart and trample a male worker? Were the deals so great that a person couldn't go without? What about mob mentality- a shared thinking and or action- encourages reckless, selfish behavior whether through action or inaction? Puzzling. Feel free to respond.
This week we're going to do a Writing Bootcamp of sorts. Each day I'm going to have you write about writing, practice various exercises, etc. Today, I'd like you to open up with a blog about your weekend and any musings you might have. Please include in this blog your favorite words or expressions and why you have affection for them. Then, I'd like you to go to freerice.com and do the vocabulary exercises. Please strive to donate at least 2000 grains of rice. While doing this, please jot down 3-4 words that you learn and like. Remember them for tomorrow because I'll be asking you to incorporate them into your next post. Note: freerice.com measures your right answers against your incorrect ones and then sets a level of words. If you strive to do well, your level and the difficulty will increase: this is the goal!
Additional note: Friday will be the last day you can post any of the assigned November posts for partial credit. I always award quality writing, even if it comes in somewhat tardily. Shoddy writing that is completed after its original due date will have points deducted.
Happy Writing!
I found the question and answer fascinating. How much is our life worth? How much do we value money or what is empowers? How much do we love those closest to us?
A second anecdote from college comes to mind. Back in the days of Freshman Psychology we learned of a case where a woman was brutally raped and murdered outside of her apartment building. Dozens of people watched from their apartment windows while this horrific crime occurred and yet no one, not one single person, called for help.
I believe it's rather extraordinary the way human beings can be remarkably passionate and engaged and also conciliatory and silent. Why do we function at such extremes? And why did a mob of people storm a Walmart and trample a male worker? Were the deals so great that a person couldn't go without? What about mob mentality- a shared thinking and or action- encourages reckless, selfish behavior whether through action or inaction? Puzzling. Feel free to respond.
This week we're going to do a Writing Bootcamp of sorts. Each day I'm going to have you write about writing, practice various exercises, etc. Today, I'd like you to open up with a blog about your weekend and any musings you might have. Please include in this blog your favorite words or expressions and why you have affection for them. Then, I'd like you to go to freerice.com and do the vocabulary exercises. Please strive to donate at least 2000 grains of rice. While doing this, please jot down 3-4 words that you learn and like. Remember them for tomorrow because I'll be asking you to incorporate them into your next post. Note: freerice.com measures your right answers against your incorrect ones and then sets a level of words. If you strive to do well, your level and the difficulty will increase: this is the goal!
Additional note: Friday will be the last day you can post any of the assigned November posts for partial credit. I always award quality writing, even if it comes in somewhat tardily. Shoddy writing that is completed after its original due date will have points deducted.
Happy Writing!
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Becky at HS Graduation
Becky at HS Graduation
About Me
- Becky
- I am a middle school teacher in St. Paul, Minnesota. I am the proud mother of two: Quinn (7) and Lily (4). I live in St. Paul and enjoy the terrific food and shops of this great place.