The Crooked Shall Be Made Straight (Someday?!)

Korea -- First day of class!

A day in photos!  

 

Introductions!  Isn't she adorable!

Cute!

Prewriting!

 

Sharing "Where I'm From" maps in pairs!

 

First draft!

Writing groups -- first attempt at revision

The strategy:  Add, Subtract, and Rearrange!

Sharing their first drafts!

Aren't they the cutest kids EVER!

  

Evidence of adding, subtracting and rearranging!

Break time!

See how I arranged the room so that we can meet with the whole groups and then break out into small groups!  

How incredibly awesome is that!  

Sweet!

Red bean ice cream after 6 hours of teaching!

Delicious!

 

I had an awesome day!

I'm going to try and practice the examen process each night while I'm here.  It is explained below.

It is about asking ourselves two questions: For what am I most grateful? For what am I least grateful? These questions help us identify moments of consolation and desolation. For centuries, prayerful people have found direction for their day and for their life by identifying these moments.

The two questions can be asked in other ways, such as: When did I feel most alive today? When did I feel life draining out of me? Or, what was today's high point? What was today's low point? 

So, here goes ...

When did I feel most alive today?

I felt most alive working with the 8th graders who make up my first class, which runs from 9 am until noon.  They were funny and joyful and creative.  We made name tags and discussed three objects/symbols that reveal what we most wanted everyone in the room to know about us.  

Then we wrote "Where I'm From" poems, worked in writing groups on revision, and read aloud what we'd written.  It was delightful.  There are only 10 students in the class, and the classroom is big enough for us to have a place to sit as a whole group as well as three separate tables for us to break out into writing/sharing groups.  

Can I just say that it was TEACHER HEAVEN, pure and simple!

I also felt ALIVE and WELL when a kid named Steven figured out how to get my MAC to connect to the internet.  Whoohoo! 

(Insert "happy dance" here!)

I had thought I was going to be "suffering" using a PC with all the desktop icons labeled in Korean!  

(Insert jumping for joy and clapping my hands here!)

Steven is my ROCK STAR!  Making it work involved IP addresses, Pinging, Routers, and all kinds of other rigamarole that I know nothing about!

When did I feel the life draining out of me?

I don't know if it's the same thing as "the life draining out of me," but I feel utterly exhausted right now.  My feet are swollen and I'm physically POOPED from the long day(s).  

But it is a GOOD tired. 

The second class period wasn't as fun as the first period.  The students were more reluctant to participate, and it was a bit more like "pulling teeth" than it was with the first group. The class just had less energy due to the fact that it is held after lunch from 1 pm until 4 pm. (Or was it, perhaps, that I HAD LESS ENERGY?!)  ;-0

So that's it for today!

Ta da!

 

TA DA!
49.6 pounds!

If I weren't brain dead (completely!), then I'd tell you about

1.  My bladder turned kidney infection and how I'm waiting for a new antibiotic prescription to be filled. I've NEVER had a bladder infection before!  Owww!  (MOSTLY, I'm better.  Just some lower back pain at the moment, so that's good!)

2.  My orange hair (and the 5 hours last Thursday and the 3 hours yesterday that I spent in the salon!)

 

(This is when it's waaay better!)

3.  My TV and how it blew last night while I was packing and how the guy who is house-sitting for me was SO excited that I have cable and pay-per-view, etc!

4.  Or, maybe I'd tell about my 3 trips to the dry cleaners to pick up my clothes and how on my third attempt to fetch my favorite blouse, they admitted they couldn't find it.

5.  Or, I might even bore you with the fact that while I was making xerox copies of the instructional materials that I need for Saturday (my first day of teaching!) that my printer ran out of the ONE cartridge that I did not have a replacement for!

But, if I told you about all that, you might think I'm overly dramatic and all, and I wouldn't want you to think that -- even though it's TOTALLY true! ;-0

My friend, Julie, showed up at 8 pm and talked me down from the ledge!  It's always good to have a cheerleader! 

My flight leaves at midnight tonight, and I will arrive in Seoul on Friday morning at 4:30 am.  They are 16 hours ahead of me and Cheri, 14 hours ahead of Blognut and 13 hours of Diane who lives in Pigsnuckle. (Just so you know when you're missing me!) 

I will LOSE Thursday and NEVER get it back!  Now, that's just weird.  I'm glad it's not my birthday!

To the children: We believe you!

I finally had to turn off the TV.  If I see one more image of Michael Jackson surrounded by body guards - tall, husky fellas whose job was to protect him - I just might projectile vomit right onto the screen. 

Just what did he need to be protected from?  He used his money and power and fame to get away with molesting children, and who was protecting them?  WHO IS PROTECTING THEM NOW?

I, for one, know just how crazy making it is to have someone in power abuse you and get away with it.  It's maddening.  It causes you to doubt your own experience.  It makes you double over inside and withdraw into a knot of bewilderment and horror, especially when the abuser calls it LOVE.  And if you don't know true love, it can really suck you into a state of mind that may very well destroy any sense of self or well-being you have.  But this isn't about me.

The boys, the ones Michael Jackson molested, are no doubt horrified at how their abuser walked away seemingly unscathed.  They are probably questioning their own reality, what really happened to them, because for fuck's sake, the whole wide world seems to think Michael Jackson was some kind of saint. 

Certainly, MJ was a disturbed individual who was a victim himself, but that does not excuse the way he preyed on innocent children.  And just because he wasn't convicted doesn't mean he didn't do it!  He did, and he called it love. He used a soft, "sweet" voice and proclaimed that he loved those boys and then he tried to manipulate the world into thinking that those of us who could see straight through his perverted ways were dead wrong about him.  Well, we weren't wrong! 

And yesterday, today, and tomorrow, we must not forget that he victimized and harmed children.  He used those boys' need for REAL love and attention, and seduced them right into a web of lies, deceit and perversion.  And then he made them feel crazy for thinking he'd done anything less than love them.  That's sick!

And those boys will never get over that!

So, today, I'm going to stand with Cheri,  Blognut,  and Amber, and form a virtual circle around those children MJ preyed upon and say, "WE HEARD YOU.  WE BELIEVED YOU.  WE WILL ALWAYS BELIEVE YOU!"

"It's so good, I hate myself."

I went to see the movie, DEPARTURES, by myself tonight.  It was a beautiful film, and it will go on my list as an all time favorite. But I wept like a baby.  I even shamelessly wiped my nose with the sleeves of my sweatshirt. That's how hard I was crying and snot-ing all over myself.

It was so lovely I felt like my heart was expanding inside my chest.  It's a Japanese film about ceremony and family and loss, AND how the bodies of loved ones are prepared for their final "departure." 

I was so captivated by the process and the grief of the loved ones and the beauty of the life cycle that it actually hurt physically. 

And THEN there was the part about the main character and how he couldn't remember his dad's face (the dad had left the family when the main character was just 6 years old), and that part of the plot nearly did me in!  But in a good way, if that's possible.  It was particularly meaningful, given what I wrote recently about not remembering my dad. 

Man, this movie is stellar.  The mix of beauty, sadness, grief, love, and humor is perfect -- the acting exquisite!   The music score and the cinematography are equally breathtaking! 

I felt as if this film swept me up (or was it away) in some very surreal and beautifully poignant and powerful way.

And when I walked outside and into the moonlight, my entire body trembled with my own, now fully triggered, grief. 

So, I did what any normal person would do, I went to Target and walked the aisles aimlessly until the store closed. 

It only cost me $194.00!

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PS:  If you want to know what the title of this post means, you have to go see this film! 

PPS:  This film so enraptured (Is that the right word?  That's what it felt like.) me that I wasn't even able to take notes.

I'm leaving on a jet plane (soon!)

(I'll be in Pohang, right on the coast!)

 

So next week, I'm off to Korea for the month of July.  I'm going with this program of which I'm a fellow.  They invited me, and are paying to get me there, and then paying me MORE just for going -- so, while it's not Italy, it is a trip, and I do love to travel (mostly)!

I'll be implementing a creative writing program with other fellows from the same program. 

My time in the blogosphere will be limited, I'm guessing.  I may post regularly as I'm expected to keep a journal, but I don't know how much I will be able to read and comment while I'm there.

I have a long list of things to do to get ready!  (Blech.)

I'll keep you posted! 

I may actually have full blown anxiety attacks if I can't text while I'm there.  I'm going tomorrow to see how the phone thing works while one is in another country!  ;-) 

The Bronte Sisters are Wussies and Apparently, So Am I!

Picture this.  I'm all snuggled in bed.  Surrounded by pillows.  One under my head.  One on each side of me.  Emily Bronte is sprawled out on top of the pillow on my left.  I turn off the evening news and click on my bedside lamp so I can read for a while.

Emily jumps off the bed. 

I think nothing of it.  She often leaves when I begin to read.  It means I'm done petting her. 

I call her back, patting the bed with my hand while making a kissing sound with puckered lips.  She usually comes right back, but this time she doesn't. 

I glance over to see where she is and discover her hunched down, FROZEN, and STARING at this!

That is one CREEPY LOOKING son of a gun! 

Evidently, Blognut finds scary shit on the beach in Mexico, and I find it on the floor in my bedroom! 

I immediately go into full force FREAK OUT! 

How the hell did you get in here?

I get out of bed (I REALLY COULD USE A HUSBAND UNDER THESE CIRCUMSTANCES!) and chase Emily away.  I don't want that damn thing going under my bed.  It'll be all over then. 

Shit.

I rush around the living room.  What do I do?  How do I get that bugger out of here?

I'm doing a bit of a heebie/jeebie jig by now. 

In a fleeting moment of clarity, I know what to do first.

I flit over to my purse, which is on the dining room table.  I root around for my camera, pull it out, turn it on, and snap a few "memory maker" photos of this little f*cker! 

The camera flashes, and it doesn't move!

I think maybe it's dead.  Wouldn't that be lucky? 

Well, yeah, it would, but when have I ever been LUCKY?

Next, I run into the kitchen and get a plastic bag, thinking I'm going to pick up the sucker and toss it outside. 

I bend over, inch the bag right down over the little guy, and prepare to pounce!  As soon as I touch it, IT MOVES! 

Insert a series of profanities HERE!

I squeal, drop the bag, and run into the living room squirming around like I have to pee. 

Charlotte is now on the scene.  She is tentative at first, but then decides to bat at the damn thing.  It runs behind the bedroom door and emerges looking like this.

So, you know how I have someone ELSE do my laundry?  Evidently, I NEED someone to SWEEP for me, too!  But that's beside the point.  So not important right now because I'm totally flipping out!  

"I hope you're not allergic!" I say to the little f*cker! 

"Thanks fer dustin' while you was back there!  Obviouslee, you desire ta earn your keep.  That's mighty nice a you," I say with my best Texas accent. (I like to entertain myself. What can I say? It calms my nerves!)

I pick Charlotte up by the scruff of her neck and and put her on the bed.

She's back on the floor in a split second engaged in a stare down of sorts. 

"BE A DAMN CAT, and KILL THE THING, WILL YA?  THIS IS NOT A GAME!"

She flashes me a disconcerted look, "Hey, I've been an indoor cat for 12 years, what do you want from me?"

I run outside to the patio where I put the latest Amazon boxes.  Shit.  There are none there.  I must have put them in the recycle bin.  I grab a big brown mailing envelope and head back in.

By now Charlotte has chased our new renter into the bathroom.  I shut the door, like that's gonna help.  Me, a cat, and some kind of lizard locked in a bathroom!  Smart.

Charlotte's on one side and I'm on the other with the envelope open like a dust pan.  "Come on, Charlotte, chase it in here!  YOU CAN DO THIS!  You're a cat, remember? Activate your instincts!" 

The three of us scurry around on the bathroom floor for several minutes.

Finally, the lizard freezes.  I say, "Come on, get inside the f*cking envelope, and you will SAVE yourself from the FELINE, I promise!  It's a sweet deal, really.  I'm trying to save your sorry trespassing ass!  Get INSIDE.  NOW!"

No one in this getting-crazier-by-the-minute-scenario is listening to me! 

All of a sudden, I feel like I've been transported back into my classroom-filled-with-graduating-seniors-who-somehow-have-forgotten-during-the-final-days-of-the-year that I AM, INDEED, STILL IN CHARGE!

Only, the joke's on me.  I'm SO not in charge here because NOW, the LARGER THAN LIFE LIZARD IS UNDER MY BED.

And Charlotte is under there with it! 

Just  G R E A T!

All I want to do is read my book!

I get my fat ass down on all fours and look under the bed to see if I can spot it.  I'm soooo not going to sleep with that thing under there.

I can't see it anywhere. 

I get up and go into the kitchen looking for a box.  I find a one of those GLAD reusable plastic bowls in the sink.

I head back to my room and start pulling everything out from under my bed. 

Suddenly, and out of nowhere, it appears and scares the bejesus out of me!

Insert ANOTHER series of profanities HERE!

I QUICKLY slap the plastic bowl on top of it like this and then drag its sorry ass all the way to the back door where I toss both IT and the bowl onto the patio and SLAM the door!

 

Then I do the heebie/jeebie jig all over the living room while Emily does this.

 

She's just not convinced it's gone, and frankly (and weirdly) neither am I!

(Stop looking at my dirty floor!  I was supposed to clean today, but I have a summer cold, which I'm milking for all it's worth, and a good book to read.  It's all about priorities!) 

Do you think that thing was poisonous?  Are lizards poisonous like snakes?  Do you think it had babies in my closet or while it was under my bed?  How long do you think we've been roommates? How will I EVER get to sleep tonight?

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So, it's now 2 am!  This whole fiasco started at about 10:45 pm!  I'm WIDE AWAKE! 

I started googling, and I HATE GOOGLE. 

Google, just so you know, MAKES things worse!

My skin has just about crawled right off my body!

(And I didn't have a category for this post, so I tried to copy Blognut's style.  She rocks at creating categories! She's my inspiration!)

I don't remember him

My dad died in a tragic car accident 39 years ago today.  It was 1970, and I was just shy of my 5th birthday.  I made the collage below in 2007 because the anniversary of his death that year was also the same day as Father's Day.

All day I've been thinking of what to write about him, and all I could come up with is that I don't remember him.  I don't know who he was or what he was about.  I know so little about this man who was my dad.  I wanted to write a poem or something.  I wanted to say something profound or at least beautiful, but I just couldn't come up with anything.  I think I'm still a bit mad at him.

Is it odd that I never forget THIS day, though?

I heart blogging (and facebook)!

Stop what you're doing and go straight to my sidebar and scroll down to my "Writing Samples." 

Go ahead. 

I'll wait.

Now, click on the last entry entitled "Where I'm From."  Read the poem if you want, BUT definitely READ the first comment! 

Okay, It IS asking a lot, so here you go!  Just click here.  Now read that first comment! 

HELLO!  George Ella Lyon LIKES my imitation of her work!!!

That's what I woke up to this morning!  How sweet is that?!

Now, go to this post.  YES.  I'm demanding a lot of you, I know!  Pluh-ease! 

Just go. 

I'd TOTALLY DO IT FOR YOU! :-)

And read the last comment from Ashley.  Yep.  That one.  You don't even have to read the entire post.  Just click right back there on the word comment and read Ashley's.

I taught her in 1989 during my first year of teaching (in Houston!  At the end of that first year, I moved to Los Angeles!)

(SHE FOUND ME ON FACEBOOK!  If that doesn't sell you on getting a facebook account, nothing will!)

I remember her vividly in spite of the fact that I was 23 (she was 11!) and didn't know what I was doing.  I'd just been kicked out of church, and I cried everyday after school.  The fact that I survived is miracle enough, but she claims I made a difference in her life.  Whew!  I'm so humbled by that, and it FILLS ME UP to the very top!  I'm so full I can hardly stand myself today!

So, guess what she and I have been up to the last two days:  TEXTING!  Oh yes we have!  Good thing I'm cool like that!  And we WILL talk on the phone this week. 

As I complete my 20th year of teaching this week, I'm in awe of all those years and all my kiddos!  It makes me want to do it all over again in September!

But I DO need a wee bit of a break before then!

Thanks for indulging me!  NOT enough can be said about all you WONDERFULLY AWESOME PEOPLE who choose to read my ramblings here.  I HEART YOU!  (Each and every one of you!)

You love me, right?

If you saw R on the street, you'd think he was in his mid-twenties even though he's just barely 18.  You'd also speculate about whether or not he was in a gang, and you might just cross to the other side of the street because you weren't quite sure about his over-sized white t-shirt and his 4-sizes-too-big-khaki-dockers that gather in big wads around his lace-less sneakers.

Yesterday, R sat in my class signing yearbooks with all his buddies.  I sat at my desk frantically trying to finish senior grades and the project I've committed myself to finishing as my end of year gift to all my classes.

R:  (Yelling LOUDLY)  Ms. S., YOU LOVE ME, RIGHT?! 

Me: (Without skipping a beat!) Yes, R, I LOVE YOU WITH ALL MY HEART!

R: (Looking at the guys sitting opposite him at the table.)  SEE, TOLD YA!

Me:  (laughing!)  What was that all about?

R:  I TOLD them that you have my back!

These kiddos crack me up!

By the way, you'd be wrong about R.  He works two jobs to help support his family.  He's thoughtful and funny.  He drinks hot green tea and eats a croissant for breakfast each day during 2nd period.  He treats his girlfriend like a princess, and he honors all the adults in his life.  He's a complete sweetheart with a tough exterior (wearing the wrong clothes!).