'tis of thee

This is going to sound really weird, but as it's been on my mind so much lately, it must be said: I am so grateful to be an American.

In South Africa, they often speak of ubuntu, which in essence means, "I am because you are, and you are because of me; we could not exist without one another."

That is how I am feeling about my country right now. It may sound ridiculous, but for the first time in my life, I see that America is not simply a place filled with people - it is those people. And we have the power to define our country, to build it and shape it any way we want. In doing so, we also define and create ourselves. It doesn't get much more powerful than that.

It's sort of like a church - yes, there's a building we call "church," but the real church is made up of the hearts and minds that gather together in that building.

You could've told me all this in the past, and I probably would've agreed (heck, there has to be an Obama speech somewhere with a similar message). But understanding with your head is one thing; to have something truly resonate in your heart is quite another.

I've been pretty sick these past few days, tucked up in bed sipping veggie broth, so I'm having trouble articulating exactly what I'm feeling. At the same time, it's such an intense feeling that I don't think I could ever fully put it into words. It's gratitude, it's love. It's idealism and activism and passion and hope. It's everything I think America can be. And, in her more transcendent moments, everything America already is.

polska

OK, I confess.

Yesterday I was a big ol', I-come-from-the-U-S-of-A-with-camera-and-wallet-in-hand tourist.

I know. I can't believe it, either.

I went to Poland, where I did nothing but buy pottery, photograph castles from the back of a minivan, and eat pierogies. I didn't meet lots of interesting locals, experience lesser-known parts of the land, or learn any of the language (although, c'mon, "Polska" is an easy one).

And you know what?

It was still fun. I had a great time. And I bought some very cool stuff you can't get anywhere else, from the people who actually make it.

Giving my Polish cheese lady and baking dish a bath.

Maybe sometimes the do-it-like-it's-Disney version of travel is all right? Maybe? It's definitely not my first choice, but so goes life. (Plus, I have the advantage of being able to disguise myself by speaking German. Then people usually think I'm from Holland or France because of my accent. Which, when the only other Americans that tend to travel to the town in Poland you are visiting happen to be loud, demanding military wives decked out in stars and stripes, is one BIG advantage. In my opinion, anyway.)

Nothing like a bowl of coffee in the morning! I filled this baby up twice today - glorious.

Here's to a successful (and restful) weekend. Cheers.

my favorite poems - part III: witty irreverence

And now for the last installment, a poem that makes me laugh as I shake my head and contemplate its brilliance every time I hear it. It's the kind of poem that leaves me hungry for more more more. (Note to writers, authors, and the like: Craft a poem like this, and you will instanly convince me to buy everything you've ever written. Just saying.)

Diane Burns
SURE YOU CAN ASK ME A PERSONAL QUESTION

How do you do?
No, I am not Chinese.
No, not Spanish.
No, I am American Indi-uh, Native American.

No, not from India.
No, not Apache.
No, not Navajo.
No, not Sioux.
No, we are not extinct.
Yes, Indian.

Oh?
So, that's where you got those high cheekbones.
Your great grandmother, huh?
An Indian Princess, huh?
Hair down to there?
Let me guess. Cherokee?

Oh, so you've had an Indian friend?
That close?

Oh, so you've had an Indian lover?
That tight?

Oh, so you've had an Indian servant?
That much?

Yeah, it was awful what you guys did to us.
It's real decent of you to apologize.
No, I don't know where you can get peyote.
No, I don't know where you can get Navajo rugs real cheap.
No, I didn't make this. I bought it at Bloomingdales.

Thank you. I like your hair too.
I don't know if anyone knows whether or not Cher is really Indian.
No, I didn't make it rain tonight.

Yeah. Uh-huh. Spirituality.
Uh-huh. Yeah. Spirituality. Uh-huh. Mother
Earth. Yeah. Uh'huh. Uh-huh. Spirituality.

No, I didn't major in archery.
Yeah, a lot of us drink too much.
Some of us can't drink enough.
This ain't no stoic look.
This is my face.

my favorite poems - part II: soul-shaker

The first time I ever read this poem (while sitting alone on my parents' screened-in porch one summer), I promptly burst into tears, then could not stop crying. I have some inkling as to why, but never you mind. For whatever reason, this is my security blanket poem, the one that's been folded, unfolded, and refolded so many times the paper is falling apart. It's my desert island poem - as in, if I were abandonded on a desert island and could only have one poem with me, it would likely be (perhaps quite irrationally) this one.

Walt Whitman
SONG OF THE OPEN ROAD

Allons! The road is before us!
It is safe – I have tried it – my own feet have tried it well – be not detain'd!
Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the
        shelf unopen'd!
Let the tools remain in the workshop! Let the money remain unearn'd!
Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher!
Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! Let the lawyer plead in the
        court, and the judge expound the law.

Camerado, I give you my hand!
I give you my love more precious than money,
I give you myself before preaching or law;
Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me?
Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?

my favorite poems - part I: the bigger picture

Elizabeth Barrette

ORIGAMI EMOTION

Hope is
folding paper cranes
even when your hands get cramped
and your eyes tired,
working past blisters and
paper cuts,
simply because something inside you
insists on
opening its wings.

________________

Wendell Berry
THE PEACE OF WILD THINGS

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

________________

I am so tired of dealing with smallness. Of mind, of heart, of self. These poems help release me from that tight, sinking feeling I get when I'm unable to avoid absorbing the negativity and narrowness of others. They help me wrap it up and say, "I don't want this, you can have it back." After reading these poems, I am settled, and I remember that I can choose to paint my life with a broader, more joyful brush.

oh, and another thing

Two Three things, really.

Besides updating my blog for the first time in weeks and going through piles of school stuff, I can't stop watching these videos. I feel like I should've known about this already. (It may or may not be a discovery I made on this blog after Googling "how to survive student teaching.")

This wise use of my time turned up a few more gems, namely:

I think I'm going to change "Leaving Brooklyn" to "Student Teaching:" and turn it into a giant, folding poster to put over my head whilst I slump exhaustedly at my desk and cry.

I also really want this clock I found at uncommongoods.com. It's particularly apt considering the week ahead: We're starting a unit on time in maths.

On the bright side, I'm easing into it by teaching the children some choice songs, such as the "Months of the Year 'Macarena'" and theme from Happy Days. Nothing like horrible earworms for the sake of education! Hmm, that gives me an idea: "Earworms for Ed," a website devoted to finding classroom-worthy songs on the internet...

Or not.

And now it's time for actual work. And yes, I do mean practicing the Macarena.

l  l  l  l  l  l  l  l  l  l  l  l  l  l  l  l  l  l  l  l  l  l  l  l  l  l  l  l  l

>>UPDATE<<

I did not actually practice the Macarena. (Seeing as I spent hours doing that when it first came out many moons ago and have been at countless weddings since, there's really no need). Instead I made this:

We've just started "Can Buildings Speak?" in Art, and this past week in Literacy the kids labeled pictures of famous buildings and created glossaries of building terms. I've taken those words, plus some of our other discussion vocabulary and created a Wordle. Highly recommend making your own. Very good stuff.

perfectionism is anything but perfect

Sorry I haven't been writing. The lack of blog activity probably has something to do with the fact that I spend all my time working on school stuff, and the moments in between wondering, How am I EVER going to do this? Or at least do it even moderately well.

I should probably stop comparing myself to Rafe Esquith.

It's hard to quit a lifelong habit, so ingrained that it frequently threatens to define who I am. I mean being a perfectionist, of course, which is probably why my expectations are too high. Seeing as this is starting to seriously inhibit my teaching, it's a problem. Oddly enough, the more I aim for perfection, the crappier life seems to become.

Mostly I just need some babies to cuddle, I think. If I can't get someone else to hold me, I may as well do the holding. (For now, I've decided to replace hugs with the Hamam.) (Though there's really no substitute for baby-cuddling.) (I can be such a girl sometimes.)

At least there's a little laughter in the classroom. It comes suddenly at times, in between reminders that, "You only have five minutes, and I WILL be marking this, so you'd better do less talking and more writing."

We begin lessons by zipping our lips, opening our ears, and putting our thinking caps on. The other day, a little boy just sitting down to start his maths worksheet said, "Oh wait, I don't have my thinking cap on!" and proceeded to mime pulling a hat over his head. I laughed to myself at that one, which eased some of the tightness building up around my heart, as well as the knot that has made itself a permanent fixture in my stomach.

Oy and vey.

I try to remind myself that I already have a job lined up. (In case you didn't get the memo, I'll be starting a short-term post at BBS in January as a Year 3 Classroom Teacher.) But that's kind of stupid, because it generally makes me feel worse: "OH NO! They hired someone completely inept, and they'll probably change their minds at any minute!"

Also, I do not want to live my entire life telling myself, "I can do anything short term, I can do anything short term," over and over again. Multiple years of "getting through" have robbed that coping mechanism of its power.

Maybe I'll replace it with a line from Ani: "I've got myself a new mantra/It says: Don't forget to have a good time!"

Speaking of good times, ask me to recreate Miss K's Magic Maths Shop for you the next time we're together. Explaining it here won't do the hilarity justice. What a ridiculous person I am. Those poor children don't know what's hit them.

Anyway.

Pictures soon, cross my heart. I just have to take some first. . . . xx

worth it

Student teaching is fantastically exhausting. You teach all day, then stay after to discuss how everything went and where everything is headed (plus prep materials and make displays). When you finally do get out of the building, it's only to go home and spend all night planning the next day. And in this case, it's doing that while adjusting to the ins and outs of a different educational system. In a foreign country.

I need a hug.

But despite feeling a bit like a headless chicken most days (one with its heart on its sleeve, no less), it helps to remember the roomful of reasons that makes it all worth it. That's all it's ever really about, anyway.

last taste of summer

Last week, at the suggestion of my lovely friend Laura V., we spent the day in Friedrichshagen and Koepenick on the Mueggelsee.

I met Laura in 2004 when I was living in Tuebingen (I actually lived with her family for a short time). She is one of the kindest, most genuine people I've ever met, and she happens to be studying law in Berlin at the moment. It's amazing to have a good friend so close. We went to her place in Kreuzberg for brunch today, and it was as cozy and chaotic as ever - exactly the things I love about her.

There are very few people in my life that have ever been in the running for kindred spirit (much as I may have wished otherwise, especially in my early teens), but Laura would certainly be one of them. I'm completely blessed to know her.

The palace at Koepnick

With another Laura - my flatmate and fellow teacher from the States

Palace entrance

Laura V. (right) and her flatmate Katharina

written in the stars

"Don't hurry the process; everything will unfold according to its own rhythm if you show up consistently and do your best."

Today's Capricorn Horoscope by Rick Levine

Normally I'm not one to put much stock in the stars, apart from their potential entertainment value (especially as per The Onion). However, the line above sort of...settled me when I read it. Besides, it's not so much a prediction as it is a truth, at least for me. "The universe unfolds as it should" is one of my oft-quoted lines, and it was nice to be reminded of that.

happy weekend

Perfect lunch spot.

In the gardens at Schloss Charlottenburg, where I planted myself on a bench, stared at the lake, ate a sandwich made with a fresh roll from our local outdoor market, and did puzzles in my new Sudoku book.

The path leading to my aforementioned lunch spot.

Perfect card.

Turns out there's Bikram yoga studio 20 minutes from my house. Ten days for ten euros. Glorious.

Perfect present.

Lovely daisies and gourds from my lovely roommate. I bought her a giant (and I mean GIANT) hydrangea as a congrats/stay positive present in her first week of student teaching. Today I came home from yoga to find my own wonderful surprise waiting in my room.

Aren't they beautiful? Yes, yes they are.

Perfect dinner.

I finally busted into the mac'n'cheese I brought from home. And it was sooo good.

In honor of Frau Rutz :)

Yep. It was the perfect day.

run, lasagna, run

We ventured into Mitte and stumbled upon the marathon...

Since we were already there, we figured we'd get a better look.

Box of lasagna running. If you look to his right, there's also a fork.

The city views weren't bad, either.

As Eloise might say: Ooooh, I absolutely LOVE this place!

like a fish to water...or maybe it's land

My favorite part of my bedroom - the shelf by the window, complete with a recently purchased plant the florist said was "winter hearty."

Been having trouble sleeping the past couple nights. My eyes get heavy and I'm physically exhausted, but my mind just won't settle down enough for me to actually drift off. I can feel this ball of excitement in the pit of my stomach; I seriously can't wait for the next day to start. Thoughts of exploring my neighborhood and new parts of the city, sitting at an outdoor cafe drinking coffee, visiting the kids in my class again....These are the things that keep me up at night. It's like the positive version of anxiety, if that makes sense. I'm even excited at the thought of breakfast!! But who wouldn't be when it involves Nutella-smeared, fresh-from-the-bakery goodness? (Ok, so I admit to getting excited for breakfast a lot, even in the States. Usually it's the hot cup of coffee I drink first thing, while still lounging in bed. Yep, I'm that dorky. Or Zen. It's a matter of perspective.)

On a bench in the gardens at Schloss Charlottenburg.

Today was a glorious day. Not only was breakfast fab (I ate in bed, naturally), but so was lunch. A German(ish) meal, cooked by moi. SO satisfying.

Creamed spinach, potato dumplings, and a (veggie) bratling. ::Sigh:: AND I ate it on the balcony. AND there were leftovers. Cook once, eat at least three times, that's what I say. Er, at least, now I do, because we don't have a microwave, so cooking actually takes time. Who knew? (Though BBS - the Berlin British School - happens to have one in the staff room, which should make reheating leftovers quite convenient...!)

Speaking of BBS, yesterday I visited the Middle School (where I'll be working) for the first time. "Middle School" is British for "Year 1 to Year 5," which is British for "Kindergarten to Grade 4."

No, this is definitely not the school - it's a villa in the palace gardens.

I know. It's confusing. I'm certainly confused. Or I was, but I think I'm getting there. Years 1 and 2 comprise Key Stage One, while Years 3 through 5 fall under Key Stage Two. So I'm working in Key Stage One, Year 2, made up of 6- and 7-year-olds. But I don't work with students - I work with pupils (yes, that'd be the British version of students), many of whom are German. This means English is not their first language, so a few are designated EAL: English as an Additonal Language. (Whereas in the US we obviously have ELLs, English Language Learners. The education gods do love their acronyms, don't they?)

Ohhhh, man! Clearly, this is going to be somewhat exhausting. I'm definitely going to be learning AT LEAST as much as the students - oh no, wait, I mean PUPILS. Pupils, pupils, pupils, pupils....Drill and repetition, right?

Er, hold on - do they have that in the UK???

A meadow intended for lying about. Necessity? I'm going with yes.

mein zuhause

I drew the above sign my first night in Germany, when I was all alone in the apartment and couldn't sleep. After discovering some chalk hidden above the closet door, I decided to make a sign to greet Laura when she arrived the next day. It's the first thing you see when you come in the front door.

Another view from the front door (you can kinda see a bit of the chalkboard in the lower righthand corner). There used to be a massive painting of a woman's wide-eyed face, but Laura and I both agreed it was beyond creepy. So we promptly put it in a closet and hung this street scene in its place.

Continuing down the hall, you enter the living room on your right, via the doors in the photo above. It all feels very grand :)

But not quite as nice as having these French doors (in the living room - this is a corner) as the entrance to your bedroom. The gilded pair above opens into Laura's room. (Sorry, don't have any photos of it for you because, well, that'd be a bit weird. Also I don't think she particularly wants me randomly snapping pics of her room when she's not around.)

The living room (a bit dark, but here it is anyway. Audrey's on the wall, Buddha's in the corner, and my computer's on the ottoman.)

View from the right side living room window.

Our kitchen. Again, dark but there. It has both a washing machine AND a dishwasher. Let me just say, after a year in an apartment without a dishwasher (or washing machine, for that matter), this is HEAVEN. Modern appliances, my heart beats for you!

All the images of my bedroom were ridiculously dark, to the point where it was pretty much impossible to see anything. Plus, my bed wasn't made and had stuff piled on it. So all you get is the view from my bedroom window, of our courtyard below. Which isn't so bad, if I do say so myself :)

A biking/jogging/walking trail that goes through the gardens at Schloss Charlottenburg (Charlottenburg Palace), just one U-Bahn stop and a five minute walk from my apartment. I strolled there yesterday, this morning, AND tonight. More photos from those walks to come, along with a few from my trip to the zoo. But it's gute Nacht for now - I can hardly keep my eyes open!

less than 48 hours

Totally.

Overwhelmed.

(A two word post? This is more like "tweeting" than blogging, isn't it? Ugh, how disgusting. Oh, well! Commence packing.)

a walk in the woods (ish)

I'm up in North Dakota for the week spending time with Andy before I leave (sidenote: BAHHG! It's just a couple weeks away! AGHH!). He started classes on Tuesday, and I took advantage of the gorgeous weather/free time to hike Turtle River State Park.

The trails go through the prairie, marsh, and forest, and they are really very beautiful. My camera died before I came to a grove of young birch trees - kinda disappointing, since it was probably the most gorgeous/surreal part of the whole excursion.

Did manage to snap one of the bajillion toads hopping around, though. Seriously, they were EVERYWHERE. At one point, I basically had to hike in slow-mo and on tiptoe to avoid crushing any.
Now, I may be blurry in the above shot, but it's the background that's important. What do you notice? That's right - hills! What? You didn't see 'em? Welcome to Grand Forks, where even the slightest sign of rolling terrain becomes a big deal.

Besides twisiting my ankle when I slipped on a rock while coming down one of the aforementioned hills, I'd say it was a successful adventure. Satisfying, too - everything's better outside, especially on beautiful blue-sky days.

where i get sorta sentimental

This summer I've been nannying for my three cousins a few days a week, trying to stash away some funds for Berlin. Whenever I'm with them, I can't seem to help taking a whole bunch of pictures - they're just so dang sweet! A few weeks ago, the older two girls decided to have a picnic with their dolls in the backyard. Meanwhile, I pushed the youngest in her swing, stopping to take photos here and there. Several of the resulting images had a sort of timeless, nostalgic quality to them, which I decided to emphasize:

They seem like something you might find in an old shoebox when cleaning out the closet, especially the last two. I know I've talked before about how I am certainly NOT a photographer, but it's hard not to love any picture of these beautiful girls!

brain food

Recently I spent several days in Minneapolis. For whatever reason, my time there is always heavenly - lots of sleeping in, good food, and hours spent drinking coffee/reading/ wandering/etc. It all amounts to me eventually drifting into this peaceful, contemplative state, where I don't want to do anything but observe, experience, and make stuff. (So, in essence, I guess it's really me getting back to my true nature.) Fitting, then, that on this particular trip I began reading The Creative Brain by Nancy Andreasan (see the sidebar for a link).



In short: I love this book. I find it entirely fascinating. It took just a few pages for me to begin scrawling out choice quotes on whatever scrap paper I had available. Here's one, from the preface:

"[H]ow many geniuses had been born - had been given the creative nature - but were unable to realize their gifts for lack of nurture[?] Half of the human beings in history are women, for example, but we have had so few women recognized for their genius. How many were held back by societal influences[?]...I cannot believe that women are innately less creative than men. But the problem goes beyond gender. It includes racism, prejudice, poverty, wars, lack of education, and a host of other forces that prevent the seeds of human creativity from sprouting. We cannot afford to waste human gifts" (xii-xiii).

The emphasis on that last sentence is mine. The whole passage really struck me as I first sat reading it (while sipping coffee in Dinkytown - what else?). What occurs to me now, however, is that it could sum up one of the main reasons I'm going into education. This is why I want to teach, and why I am so committed to helping children that may otherwise be ignored and underserved. That might mean impoverished children in high-need schools or the exceptionally gifted child bored in the back of the room. Having money doesn't excuse someone from being misunderstood, something I'm learning more and more.


So, here I come, teaching profession. We'll see how it goes.

and the hole just grows

The death of my aunt is much more complicated than it might seem. It has tapped into all kinds of political issues, from city regulations to immigration. The news report can be found here.

In the meantime, I found the full quote from Harriet the Spy mentioned in my previous post.


Everything’s the same as when Golly was here.

It looks the same...

it smells the same...

but there’s this tiny hole inside me that wasn’t there before.

It’s like...

like a splinter in your finger...

only this one’s right above my stomach.


I love how she describes it as a splinter right above her stomach. It seems to me that's just about right.

There's also a poem I wrote way back when, probably six or more years ago, that keeps popping into my head. Will try and dig it out this afternoon. Until then, then.....

a hole inside

good things (aka, stuff i'm grateful for at present)

-new sheets, soft and stain-free
-chloe sunglasses for a mere fraction of the original cost (thank you, tj maxx)
-that i love what i'm reading, even the stuff for school
-no work tomorrow morning -- getting to sleep in, at least a little bit
-a wonderful weekend with andy, full of good food and conversation -- having a best friend like andy in the first place
-the pillow i made this morning -- that the materials cost me all of three bucks
-that i'm moving to berlin soon
-peanut butter m&m's
-a strong, tight-knit family

------

other things

my aunt passed away tragically and very unexpectedly this weekend. while i've been attempting to focus on the positive (see above) and give my mind a reprieve, it seems to wander back to the same old questions, trying to piece together the incomprehensible. but even amidst the messiness of it all, i know i will remember:

-her handwriting in birthday cards
-the fact that my birthday was remembered each year
-teacher supplies, handed down or bought just because (whether for me or for the kids i happened to be working with at a particular time)
-superior organization skills, especially as evidenced at the time of g'ma miller's death and in putting together the "girls' weekend" at lake geneva
-soap operas on the t.v. in the kitchen during summer weeks in springfield when i was a kid
-receiving my very first weeble, along with an explanation of what it was, one christmas

...among numerous other flashes and feelings.

when ol' golly leaves in the film version of harriet the spy, harriet says, "there's this tiny hole inside me that wasn't there before." my heart goes out to everyone my aunt loved, especially her girls (baby included) and husband. i'm sure for them, it's a big, gaping hole that will never quite be filled as it once was. everything and nothing is the same. and i can't help but shrug and shake my head and think: all we can do is love - life, each other - and keep putting one foot in front of the other. eventually we'll walk ourselves back into a time for dancing.
eventually.

to be heard

I'll be on my way to my practicum shortly, but before I'm out the door, I want to post about something that's been on my mind lately.

A lot of us go into teaching because we want to give - to give back in some way. We're the pleasers and do-gooders of the world. However, what I'm slowly realizing is that a truly gifted teacher has instead mastered the art of receiving. Yes, we can offer our students knowledge, help, etc., but more importantly, we can offer them our ears and an open mind - we can hear them. Receiveing another person's ideas, dreams, stories, laughter - well, therein lies true grace. So maybe it's not so much about what we tell our students (what we have to give) as it is about really listening. After all, everyone wants (and needs) to be heard.

Anyway. Just thinking.

project 55

Are you from Beebe School? Participating in Project 55? If so, a very warm welcome!


Stories and photos from Angels and Starfish Educare in Mandela Park Township, South Africa, can be found here. (Just click the link and you'll be taken to the archives.) Enjoy!

habit-forming

More formula poem goodness...

COLOR POEM: BROWN

Brown is a handful of earth
Branches in winter and
Dry leaves in fall

Brown is chocolate – chocolate-y
The comfort of cocoa or
My cousin’s candy-coated laugh

Brown is rich, full, and warm
The soulful eyes of a friend and
A hand that complements mine

jumping back in

I wrote the following, based on Judith Viorst's poem of the same name, as part of an assignment for class.

IF I WERE IN CHARGE OF THE WORLD

If I were in charge of the world
I’d cancel poverty,
Term papers, and also
Bad T.V.

If I were in charge of the world
There’d be days of endless dancing,
Plenty of just-because champagne drinking, and
(Always) enough food to go around.

If I were in charge of the world
You wouldn’t have small talk.
You wouldn’t have whiners.
You wouldn’t have hair clogging the bathtub drain.
Or “I just don’t think that’s in the budget right now.”
You wouldn’t even have budgets.

If I were in charge of the world
A messy desk would be recognized as a sign of genius.
All men would be great communicators.
And a person who sometimes forgot to say thank you
And other times had trouble holding her tongue
Would still be allowed to be
In charge of the world.

------

Hopefully this is the start of more regular updates. I'd really like to get back in the habit of writing here, as I'll be student teaching in Germany soon and plan to blog about the experience. More to come, then. (Fingers crossed, anyway.)