Saturday, September 20, 2008

PSA for Jonathan Kozol.


"But for the children of the poorest people we're stripping the curriculum, removing the arts and music, and drilling the children into useful labor. We're not valuing a child for the time in which she actually is a child."

Jonathan Kozol.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Staring at a Wall


I was never much of a trouble maker. I did an activity at work today where I had students create a life map. A piece of art with words and images that explained their journeys thus far. I made one too. I presented mine. I realized life has been nice, privileged really. I realized that my map was quite different from the maps of my students and in a neatly wrapped 40 minute period of time, I learned a great deal about humanity.
I started remembering though...I came to a place that held the memory of the fifth grade. I received detention for talking during the pledge to the flag. How dare I interrupt our salutation to America, our gratuity to John Adams and the lot, our momentary pause for solemn reflection. It was simply un-American. Detention followed. At St. Stephen's, they did not have you sit mindlessly in a room doing nothing. I was told to sit for two hours staring at a concrete wall while talking...without stopping. It was very an eye for an eye. I remember the pale yellow paint of the somewhat bomb shelter-like wall texture. I remember a hanging cardboard decorative squirrel (strange but absolutely true). I talked, and when I paused, I was reminded to begin again. It was my first time in trouble, and it was my last time at detention. You see, silence at Catholic school was often the utmost sign of respect. I have come to think of respect as much more than silence, and I guess as I get older, I keep getting myself in trouble again and again for opening my mouth maybe too much.
This election has me talking, and I apologize to my family that has endured endless commentary on the state of the country and how crucial this decision is. I am sorry that I get heated---my husband noting that I have taken to commenting on the 6am Morning Joe show with a strange amount of indignation for such an early hour. I just can't be silent right now. It feels so big. I just feel that silence now would be disrespectful. Our country is too great, our potential just so exciting, but our direction seems so vulnerable. I promise to watch my words at times and listen a little more or a lot more, but I just can't press pause. Not now.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Like a Bicycle

I'm Back.
It is sort of strange to go on hiatus and then return to a job. The strange thing about working in public education is that many things change dramatically over the years, but there are some things that never, ever, ever change. I take comfort in the 1950's styled teacher break room and the broken copy machines. I also love this box of chalk I found in my cabinet that looks like it is from the early 60's. Vintage chalk from the past, I wonder what teacher tucked them away in the cabinet for some future lesson or maybe just to plan some sort of punitive activity. It feels good to teach again, to create, to look at the world again through the eyes of someone looking for ideas and connections for a new class or specific lesson. On the other hand, I can't shake the feeling that it just seems unnatural to be away from S. I miss her, and I wonder if she misses me. I hope she doesn't realize I'm not there, but she is more and more aware of her world with each day. Everyone keeps telling me that I am so lucky I was able to stay with her for seven months. I am lucky for that, but it isn't like she is about to start driving. Why does society seem to make people grow up so fast? I still talk to my mom every day, and I am almost 29. I guess I just have to keep thinking about this situation and see how it goes.

Monday, September 1, 2008

The First Day of School.

Dear S.
I have been formulating this letter in my head for a few months now, and I am not sure I will get this right. I looked at your little neck the other day, and I was reminded of you as a newborn. Your neck used to resemble a little robin, but it is now stronger and holds your head up proud. I don't really know where to begin, but I wanted to tell you that I never thought I was the mom type. I never really babysat children, I wasn't one of those women that ooh and ahhed at new babies, and I could not imagine not working. (well, I guess I could imagine that:) And then you came along, and I fell victim to every cliche in the book.
I love, love, love you.
It is surreal to look at your child for the first time. When we met, you looked right into my eyes and stared for awhile. You still do this now, and I admire the curiosity you have while viewing the world. I loved you before we met, and I have to admit somewhere in the back of my mind and heart, I knew I would have a little Sophia at some point. And here you are, napping in your room. The last seven months have been a constant flux of change, growth, and new identity. I think we have both grown over these months, and I am not the same any longer. I think you have made me a more loving person, and you reminded me of parts of myself that I needed to be reminded of. You also allowed me to reflect on what matters in life, and I think my priorities are more sound because of you.
I am going back to the classroom tomorrow, and I will be home quickly. You probably won't even notice I am gone. I know you will enjoy reading, singing, traveling, and talking with your family members and when I get back, I will tell you all about my day and I want to hear about yours too. Thank you for being exactly who you are, this joyous person that laughs and smiles at her parents. Make sure Maggie behaves herself, we know she can be a difficult puppy.
You make me very happy, little Sophia.
You have my heart.
Love Always,
Mama.

Saturday, August 30, 2008

The Election.

The Republicans are getting to me.


More later.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

I woke up this morning and...


my love for New Order is back with a vengeance. If this doesn't make you dance....nothing will.
(the picture is from Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette)

Age of Consent- New Order

and for your viewing pleasure...Radiohead covering New Order's Ceremony. I really could watch this all day.
Radiohead-Ceremony Cover

and to just bring it together historically....Joy Division's greatest song ever...Love will tear us apart.
Joy Division

Hope the links work now...
(New Order has aged quite well.)



Sunday, August 17, 2008

The Most Beautiful Mullet I Know.

I have just realized that one day I may be one of those people that Oprah uses in her television show when addressing people that hoard, collect, and refuse to throw out their personal items. My closet has a couple skirts I wore in high school, my mail is piled in the office, and I have boxes from wedding presents stored in the basement just in case. In the trunk of my car, I have books from my early teaching days, mix tapes from high school, running shoes from college, and a plethora of coffee mugs from various points of my life--some with coffee still embedded. It seems, however, that the fates have aligned and are forcing me to edit myself somehow. It all began when my good friend came to visit.
While happily playing with little Soph, she noticed some hair that was longer in the back of her head. Upon further inspection, she noticed it looked like a mullet, ahh the business in the front party in the back variety, or even a little rat tail, which actually reminds me of hellish middle school years in the 90's. Anyways, it is longer than the rest of her hair and is beginning to stand out in a strange way. To be honest, I have noticed it too. I look at it lovingly as I give her a bath, and the hair spills down lower with the water. I see it when she wakes up from a nap, and the extra hair in the back sticks out from its contact with the sheet. I brush it some times and think about how dark it used to be when she was just born. But she is older now, and my very stylish friend is truly advocating for little S. Do I want to be the kind of mother that lets her daughter have a mullet? The answer is no, but there is something that still is holding me back. I can't cut it yet. I look at her clap her hands with new pride or wiggle around on the ground with her back side held high, and I can't believe how fast she has come into her own, finding her way through the world, trying to figure things out with her thoughtful eyes and inquisitive nature. And I love her little long baby hairs that wave at me from the back, dangling down her little neck, recounting the days when we first met.
Tonight I gave her a bath, sang some songs, and brushed her hair, tucking the little long hairs back with the comb. She fell asleep on her own, didn't need rocking, hair underneath but still there, tucked in safe and sound.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Vegas Baby

Dear Greg,
Today is your 24th birthday. You are in Las Vegas with our brother and 20 of your closest friends. It seems like such a short time ago you were running around the house like a maniac and complaining about our dance recitals.
You have become such a responsible, hardworking adult but have maintained your ever-present quick wit.
The Short List of Greg's Finest Qualities:(random order)
1. Ever-present optimism that Buffalo Teams will one day triumph
2. Great for political discussions
3. Loyal brother and friend
4. Knowledge of Spanish allows us to have real conversations while at work
5. Patient listener
6. Financial wiz
7. An appreciation for bulk candy (that is more old school)
8. Formidable backyard pool swim opponent
9. Patient with Sophia's spit up extravaganza/Good Uncle
10. Maintains cool in all situations

Happy Happy Birthday...Love, Your Sister.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Old Blue Eyes.

My grandfather was and is summer to me. As I sat this evening in the backyard, I could feel a soft summer breeze cool me down. It was a welcomed change from the level of mugginess that possessed the last few days. He and my grandmother,however, would sit in 90 degree heat, and he would even at times have a wool sweater near by just in case. My brothers and sister and I would sit there, sweating, taking a quick break by picking tomatoes from their backyard or investigating what was really in the mulch pile towards the edge of the lot. I don't think I ever saw my grandfather sweat. On the radio, the summer staple was Frank Sinatra's Summer Wind. We would listen to that song over and over; he adored that Sinatra song. The lyrics though are a bit different to me now as I sit here missing my grandfather on this lemonade drinking, icy pop eating, sunkissed skinwearing, classic summer day.

"Like painted kites, those days and nights - went flyin by
The world was new, beneath a blue - umbrella sky
Then softer than, a piper man - one day it called to you
And I lost you, to the summer wind"

I know he would of loved this evening, would have seen the robins and felt the heat, maybe would have hit a few golf balls, or took a nice swim at Joseph Davis Park. Maybe he is in the summer wind that brushed by my family's hair, cooled us off, and reminded us about the beauty of the unencumbered every day.

For Thomas O'Laughlin and Margaret O'Laughlin



Thursday, July 3, 2008

Workin 9 to 5 What a Way to Make a Livin...

Work. It is perhaps the true mark of adulthood. Whenever I think of work, I think of a quote from T.S. Eliot's poem, The Love Song of Alfred J. Prufrock, "I have measured out my life with coffee spoons." I first read that line somewhere during my four years of high school, and it has been haunting me a bit since. Coffee is another one of those adult experiences, and each job I have had (and there have been many from exotic bird watcher, administrative assistant to barista, manufacturing worker, and teacher) coffee has been my morning companion. There is something so adult about drinking your cup of coffee on the way to work, it is like you are a part of this large sea of humanity participating in the same ritual, each motivated by different reasons and desires. The drip of the coffee slowly into the pot reminds me of this clock that my grandparents had that recorded each second with an even more deliberate tone, time passed by quickly but distinctly. Eliot's image of coffee spoons, however, seems so specific and controlled. Each moment is then free of spontaneity or excitement. As my English teacher read those lines in high school, I remember taking them in as a warning. In high school my dreams of work consisted of anything from the next great American novelist to independent filmmaker to many other jobs that I actually knew nothing about. I just knew that I wanted something "different", something free from those coffee spoons, something that would provide meaning to my identity, a job that mattered.
And then I had some jobs, and I started to see meaning in many different ways. Everyone works for different reasons, and I think I was misguided by thinking that jobs were solely the path to fulfillment. Work is noble in many ways, and I can't think of many things more beautiful than a person working to support his or her family, devoting their lives to provide for the people that they love.
I have been not working for the last five months since I had a baby, and I have to say that taking care of baby is more than a full-time experience. Nonetheless, it has afforded me the chance to step out of the working world (although I work in a high school which is unique in its own way) and experienced what it is like to exist out of a normal schedule. A few months ago I started to notice that I heard more birds chirping, I started to write again, and I actually had pretty flowers growing in my backyard. One day I woke up and I realized that I am really happy. I have always been happy, but I feel extremely happy and satisfied. Perhaps it is that my work now consists of being with my daughter and exploring the world all over again, but I also think that my time off from the grind has forced me to find myself again, nurture my own identity a bit instead of focusing on all other work responsibilities. My time is almost up though, and I am going back to work in a couple of months, but I think I am returning more refreshed and reminded that I have a responsibility to make my work life something that I truly desire. I am not sure where this will bring me, but my "time out" made me more aware of the possibilities. I don't want to be the consummate pragmatic adult. In essence, T.S. Eliot is reminding me of that question I have asked myself since high school, "Do I dare, Do I dare."
This morning when I made my coffee I was sure to scoop the coffee, letting the grinds spill over, adding each bit to make a cup of coffee that was both exuberant and adult. And I sit here drinking it, enjoying the boldness and depth on this rainy but lovely July morning.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

My Bob Dylan Moment


The amazing thing about a 4 1/2 month old is that she actually thinks it is her momma singing when Bob Dylan is belting out Like a Rolling Stone.
I am going to try Bebel Gilberto next.

Monday, June 16, 2008

Giant Hail and Its Indelible Mark on My Psyche

I just closed windows and brought the dog in the house as the gigantic dark clouds loomed over my neighborhood. As I quickly turned off the electronic devices, I had a little flashback to my first experience watching The Wizard of Oz.
I was terrified, so scared that in one swoop, life could inevitably change. It was so close to the feeling that I had when first watching Ten Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, I was terrified that the gigantic octopus would rise up and snare me underwater, forever taking me away to some deep oceanic haze. Of course this fear was somewhat ridiculous as few octopi? ever resided in suburban above ground pools.This childhood fear continued when viewing David Bowie's movie, Labyrinth, but I won't even go there. I suppose all of this, as I sit here pounding the keys, has followed me my entire life...like I was always able to escape these little disasters and fears. I am afraid of the unknown, the uncertainty that life offers, and I think the more I love people and care, the fear grows. We are chased by our fears and perhaps that is what makes us human. As I look at this dark sky and some monster size hail, I just want to gather my loved ones and hide in some secret corner where we too can escape, safe from what can change or subtract.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Tim Russert, One of Buffalo's Finest

I am sitting her still stunned and saddened about Tim Russert's, moderator of Meet the Press, death. There is something special about Buffalo, and I have traveled many places in the world and found that this place is incredibly misunderstood. Tim Russert grew up from modest beginnings and made his mark on politics, journalism, and writing. He never forgot his home, and he embraced this place throughout his many successes. I am sad for his family as no one should ever lose someone so young and so suddenly. I am also sad for this community as our number one advocate has passed away.

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

Sick of the advertisements geared towards women...we are more than lip gloss, weight loss, and namebrands.

a poem.

Maybe Donna Reed Missed the Memo- K.P.C.

Sitting in rows during eleventh period English class I learned

The origin of Hysteria

We were learning Greek and Roman Mythology
Venus and Aphrodite, Athena too
Hestia, with her veil and those virgins,
Goddess of the hearth
That word hysteria
Came up somehow, though I doubt those goddesses really misbehaved
I hope they did though.
Hysteria, a condition thought caused by the womb
Like the witches from the Crucible
Those times when we are connected to the moon
Howling at the moon
Maybe when we are not even supposed to
Maybe it was all those goddesses, so hard to live up to
Standing in their robes, hair flowing, looking down on us mere mortals
Pawns sometimes to those women who seem untouchable
Like women on billboards or our shiny new Miss America’s
Towering over us once again
In those stiletto high heels
That often leave marks.

Monday, June 2, 2008

Question of the Week.



Hello.

On this Monday morning, I would like to pose a question. I have been thinking a lot about the upcoming presidential election, especially as I went to fill up my gas tank at $4.10 a gallon and read that another local soldier was killed. This election has already been sidetracked by various personal attacks, and in an effort to stick to the issues, I started to think about what issue was the most important to me. It is difficult to select just one, and as a teacher, I am destined to perhaps select education. It seems that education is one of the major issues, which connects to all of the other problems, that has not been discussed in detail. In my eyes, the system is not working, and it needs some revolutionary changes.

What is your definitive issue for the 2008 presidential election? What keeps you up at night or what do you feel impacts your life or the lives of others the most?

Feel free to post a reply. (Mike another shout out, perhaps? This means you may have to relinquish your Switzerland political status)

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

A poem.

I wrote this awhile ago....just thought I would put it up. Greg...here is a sample of my writing.

I Have the Monday Night News Blues-K.P.C

I wonder what a man thinks of moments before he dies?

Does the earth stop somehow to memorialize the passing,

Silent and still, as if we all could pause and pay reverence for a life.

I imagine all of the signs of new life coming,

First cries, stretches in this new world, occupying space on this planet for the first time.

I wish we could usher in each other, so full of hope and potential to do something,

To be someone, to love.

And I am sitting here thinking about death lately as I calculate my own breaths

Gliding in and outside of me, and I don’t want to be on that other side

Don’t want to see that light yet, clinging on to my own piece of this planet,

Clinging to people that walk in and out of my minutes.

I’m tired of going to funerals and wakes, tired of saying sorry,

Because it’s not enough, but some moments are too much for words, and the spaces between people are filled with that feeling, sorrowful and confused as it may be,as we all sit and contemplate why something must end.

As I turned on the news tonight, cameras congregate in California as we are set to watch

Another man’s death, sanctioned by the state, sanitized by appellate courts.

And he was a bad man, but I am wondering about redemption these days because I can feel it and maybe he felt it, and perhaps other deaths don’t need to be memorialized in this way.

Maybe we all need to just stop for a minute, if only the world could hit the pause button for a moment. Maybe it would just take a moment, to look one another in the eye, to look at ourselves,

To stop ourselves before we tarnish our humanity with all of this hatred. And maybe it’s the Joan Baez in me, but I want to write a protest song. And maybe someone out there will listen.

I don’t have a guitar, all I have are my words.

Maybe they’ll travel around, these little insignificant letters on a paper,

Maybe we can all try to fill these pages.

The Martha in Me

Alas it is 52 degrees in Buffalo right now, but in the spirit of spring and an impending summer, I am posting the link to a good recipe for a Capirinha, the classic Brazilian cocktail. You can add different fruits too....

http://www.recipezaar.com/95199

Insert beach waves and sun here....

Things I (You) Want to do...

Hello everyone....or probably just Mike for you are my most frequent reader.
I have been inspired by some other blogs I have been reading and decided to create a Things I want to do List....I am not going to put a finite timeline on them, but I just wanted to say them, write them, so in some way, I am obligated to actually see them through, my little bit of perfectionism won't let me fail this task....hopefully:)
So here it is, a list of things I would like to accomplish and experience. They are randomly ordered:
1. Go back to Capri where Mike asked me to marry him.
2. Go to Kyoto, Japan.
3. Learn to cook some different meals that are exotic and interesting.
4. Publish a book, any kind of book...
5. Write more.
6. Play with Sophia in the sand- This can be achieved when the Capuana clan hits Siesta Key!
7. Go to Argentina.
8. Regain my fluency in Spanish.
9. Drive up with my family to see Prince Edward Island, a place I thought about as a kid while reading Anne of Green Gables.
10. Climb Macchu Picchu with Mike and Sophia
11. Rent a house with the Pastore Clan in the Caribbean
12. Go back to Middlebury for more creative writing workshops
13. Shake Nikki Giovanni's hand
14. Run a half marathon (don't want to get too ambitious here)
15. Clean my closet out.
16. Collect more scarves--my signature element of style
17. Learn Italian
18. Rent a house and spend a summer in Italy
19. Keep all of my friends, thus get better at communication long distances
20. Make homemade pasta
21. Drink a cafe con leche in Plaza del Sol in Madrid again
22. Have my sister take me on a tour of her favorite places in Chicago
23. Fit into my pre-pregnancy jeans...(I'm getting close)
24. Read my grandparents letters with my Mom
25. Swim in the pool more with my Dad
26. Plant more trees and flowers in our backyard
27. Recycle every thing that is possible to recycle and not be lazy about keeping the earth green.
28. Go to the public library once a month
29. Learn to use chopsticks appropriately
30. Drink Capirinhas in Brazil with Mike on some fabulous beach
31. Teach Sophia to ride her bike


more to come...

Friday, May 9, 2008

The Lemon Law

Ah, the innocence of puppies. They come home all sweet and quiet, tired and just happy to snuggle on a blanket or with their new parents. It is a love fest for the first few weeks and then..... The puppy fully begins to embrace her puppydom, her true personality emerges and there is no way to predict the mayhem that will ensue. Wheaton Terriers, loveable, funny, silly dogs with a penchant for eating toliet paper, tearing up any type of periodical, and gnawing on all types of furniture. Take a look at the possessed eyes of 6 month old.....
Gone is the day when we brought her home, the sun shining and the grass green. She is now extremely into taking walks and ingesting any garbage on the way, jumping on anyone that enters the house, and chewing on only our favorite shoes.

Thursday, May 8, 2008

Just for Men..

This is absolutely an indicator that I have been watching way to much MSNBC....However, I just want to throw this out there for any Hardball watchers...Is it me or did Chris Matthews just dye his hair. Previously it was a respectful natural white and as I fed Sophia today, I noticed it had turned a strange mixture of blonde and light brown, it is an unnatural color. Is this just a result of HD television....no, unfortunately, it is not. I took comfort in the fact that he had his original hair color, people should, when possible embrace the fact that they are not indeed 22 years old. Now one of my favorite political pundits is looking very Just For Men commercial and I don't like it. Or I guess the all powerful media archetypes even affect the lives of men too....in some way, I am taking comfort in that.
I will try to post a photo of the new look.

This Simple is the Sublime.

this is my family. I think Sophia's favorite song is Mushaboom by Fiest..she is currently smiling to it and I am dancing around.

Teaching: It is more than Summer's Off

Hello..
I am attaching the speech I was asked to write for the Teacher Education Institute at SUNY at Buffalo. I was the commencement speaker, and I had a chance to think about what teaching means to me....it is an amazing profession with many ups and downs...Here is the speech:

I am truly honored and humbled to be standing here today to offer my sincere congratulations to each of you for accomplishing the rigorous and often emotional path to becoming an educator. You have all entered the society of teachers, one that requires true dedication, passion, patience and of course, some inspiration. Throughout the past year, I am sure you have been amazed at the students you have met, tackled challenging course work, reflected and reflected on your practice, visited many schools in this area often being reminded of the great divide of resources that exists between districts, you have cultivated lesson plans, restructured lesson plans and perhaps even changed them on the fly, you have communicated with parents, learned what it is like to operate your life on a bell schedule, experienced the often complex dynamics of the faculty room, learned to fix large copy machines as if you were born Xeroxing, pushed the limits of your creativity to engage your students, felt old for the first time as you realize that you aren’t that familiar with the music your students listen to, walked the line of balancing family, school and work obligations, you have probably even started to be recognized at Wegmans or other local places of commerce as students are amazed that you do actually leave the classroom, but most of all you have started to craft your teaching identity, something that will evolve with you throughout your teaching career, a new part of what makes you unique and integral to this world.

I still remember my first day student teaching in Jim Cercone’s classroom, which was an intimidating position to be in since he is such an amazing teacher. It actually began the night before when I could not sleep. I was running my lesson plans through my head over and over and over again as I am sure you have all experienced.(five years later, I still do this, five years later, I still do not sleep the night before the first day of school) The next day, I arrived at Cheektowaga Central on pure adrenaline, clutching a Sherman Alexie short story. I will never forget the bell ringing for the first time, as I stood in front of 24 seniors in high school, and I was utterly terrified. They all looked at me, I looked back and then we began. We read the story, and the students wrote, and the discussion started. It was not easy, it wasn’t completely smooth, but I was hooked. I hope you all are sitting here proud of accomplishing student teaching, it is no easy task, but most of all I hope that you are sitting here feeling hooked, feeling curious about what is out there for you and the teaching world, feeling excited about where your first job will take you.

When I was asked to talk to you a few months ago, I started to look back on the last five years of my life. I thought about the person I was at the beginning of TEI, and I realized that the person has changed. I see the world through a teacher’s eyes and I am constantly thinking about how to bring in what is going on out there into my classroom. In the past five years I have worked at two different school districts, and I have taught over 500 hundred students. Being an English teacher, I have always been drawn to stories. Tim O’Brien, a favorite author of mine, once said “Stories are for joining the past to the future, stories are for those late hours when you can’t remember how you got from where you were to where you are.” When I think about teaching, I think of my stories and they are something that has helped me sustain my energy and allowed me to connect what we do as educators to the larger depths of what it means to be human. I could tell you about the time during a discussion about JD Salinger’s iconic Holden Caufield from The Catcher in the Rye, a character I grew up identifying with, a student introduced the idea that Holden just didn’t get it, Holden had all of these opportunities through education, wealth, and a family that loves him, this student thought he was perhaps spoiled and narcissistic to focus simply on what is wrong with other people without even understanding their story. Since that discussion, my own reading of that book has changed, and in that instant, my own perspective was altered as an eleventh grader wisely understood what it means to recognize certain privileges. I could tell you about the time a student I had for two years and was able to get to know quite well through a girl’s group I worked with lost her mother to a long battle with AIDS. I attended the funeral and was able to meet her sister who was the same age as I was, 27 years old, and was now raising her three siblings and working full time, balancing it all quite gracefully. I could tell you about the time students were working on their dramatic performances during our study of Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew, and in the midst of intense drama with memorized lines and all, a gigantic bee flew in the room ending in a class debate on whether the bee should live or just be stamped out by one of the students shoes, and I could even tell you about this time last year when I was sitting somewhat exhausted after a long day when I received an email from a former student, actually from my first year of teaching, that I thought hated me and my class. In the letter he thanked me for helping him believe in himself and it was my class that he actually first saw himself as a writer. He is now working on his master’s degree in fine arts at Ithaca College and working as a freelance writer. I have my difficult stories to, you are all entering a profession that is truly like no other. There will be days when kids are being kids, when your colleagues may see things quite differently than you, days when the pressures of high stakes testing take hold of a school, or when you realize that the system of education may need some major changes, but I am asking you now to think of your stories, write them down, etch them in your memory because there will be moments when you need them, where you may need to refocus, and your stories will always help you remember.

I also wanted to take a few moments to thank you for becoming teachers. Someone once told me that there is a special importance in the first poster you hang in your classroom, and in mine, there is a poster with a quote from Mahatma Gandhi, “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” My gratitude is to each of you for taking up a profession that is intrinsically linked to the progress of society. We are living in a very complex world, and our community and country for that matter are both facing immense challenges. Each of you holds the ability to help students learn to think about this world whether it is through math, science, music, English, art, foreign language, or history; the power to help students shape their lives, and hopefully develop the tools to make sense of their own paths, to believe that they too can accomplish their largest dreams no matter where they come from, what neighborhood they live in or what school they attend. It is you that can provide a learning environment that brings back the wonder that we all possess as children, a place that our students can learn to understand and appreciate our differences, a place where students can find their own independence through education and perhaps they too will be filled with the willingness to make a difference. In five years, with approximately 120 new teachers graduating this year from TEI, this room will have taught roughly 66,000 students. Imagine all of the possibilities.

So welcome to each of you. As the summer ends and the fall leaves start to arrive, I will be thinking of you as we all prepare for the new school year. I wish for each of you the fulfillment I have found in teaching, it is a calling, and it will enrich your lives. I always thought growing up that a teacher simply influences his or her students, but I have realized that it is also the students that profoundly educate and influence the teachers. I imagine it as one gigantic circle, all of us together, our own teachers and mentors, students, parents, communities, working together to make change and support the next generation, each group invested in the other. Enjoy every moment, embrace them, the silly, the frustrating, the exhausting, the profound, and each fall we will all begin again. Best of luck to you always and congratulations!!


Thursday, April 3, 2008

The view from here.

As I have endlessly perused the blogosphere, I have come to realize that a million people have blogs about their children and parenting and all things family. I think it is amazing that people are engaging in their families through writing, and perhaps I am a bit annoyed that my midnight thoughts of a blog about this new place I have found myself at is maybe not as unique as previously thought. Or maybe it as--we each wander around with experiences and ways of being that although seem similar are perhaps quite different. I am starting this with the hope that my little person, Sophia, can one day read this and know more about her mother. Personally, I hope that this will enable me to connect with people thinking about the world a little bit differently--maybe you recently had a child or maybe you are just seeing the world through a different view. I know each time I have traveled, my world seems to change as the indelible images of another culture and place sink into my own perspective Or maybe..it is 2008 and we are facing a huge election and the world is seeming a bit more disconnected. It is time to reconnect.
Time.
I never fully realized how sacred the moments are and how the pace of life often fights each of these moments. I am trying not to think in terms of minutes and hours, but after having a baby, it is taking a while to reprogram myself to just exist, not think so much about the who, what, where, when often crazy demands on all of us to make ends meet, people happy, or even just to achieve material items. I want to start writing again and I want to live in the now with my daughter who is so in the now and who in only two months has taught me a lot about living and priorities.