Sunday, June 28, 2009

Behind

Looks like the sprinklers are finally turned on...
Welcome summer!
Check out the photos section to see what I'm up to these days-

Music: "Funk Soul Brother" Fat Boy Slim

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Holden’s Goodbye and Mine, too

When I craft a great assignment students usually step up and produce amazing work. That’s what happened with this Goodbye Freshman Year homework assignment. In fact I was even thanked by a student for giving the work. When does that happen? Here's the assignment:


The Catcher in the Rye Reflection assignment Homework-worth 50 points Due: Tuesday, June 9th

“What I was really hanging around for, I was trying to feel some kind of good-by. I mean I’ve left school and places I didn’t even know I was leaving them. I hate that. I don’t care if it’s a sad good-by or a bad good-by, but when I leave a place I like to know I’m leaving it. If you don’t, you feel even worse.” (Salinger 4)

Moving one year further away from middle school and having just about completed your first year at GHS brings you to the summer before your sophomore year. Though you may not be saying goodbye to GHS with any sense of finality, you are saying goodbye to your freshman year.
What memory will you conjure up to help you feel a sense of goodbye? Retell the memory clearly. After retelling it describe why that memory is the one that will capture your freshman year.
Type the assignment (1.5 or double spacing), make it great writing, and enjoy these last moments of freshman year!

While I read the sixty student responses I was truly impressed. It was apparent that most students put great thought and time into writing this one. Reading them was a pleasure, except for the obvious proofreading errors, but more than enjoyment I felt pride. My students got it. Among the stories of sports team participation, field trips (the U.N , Six Flags, Puerto Rico, Virginia Beach), band moments, picnics, sleepovers, and parties, lunch table laughs, proud academic success, new friendships, hallway exchanges and bus rides, every student managed to articulate that CONNECTING to others and to themselves was most memorable.

What’s maddening to me about Holden’s repeated failed attempts to connect to others is that he doesn’t accept his deep losses and admit that he needs people. All he wants is to be seen and heard, like his dream job of catching the children from the cliff, and yet no one has caught him. I ache for Holden every time I read that story. Yet I can never understand what it’s like to lose a brother, see a dead body, and have nonexistent parents. But I still identify with him. I strive to connect with people, literature, and the arts; and the most meaning in my life comes from those connections.

At the end of class today, the last classes of the 2008-2009 school year, I had a bit of a speech for my students. I put these two quotations on the board:

“It’s just the talking. It’s just bein’ with another guy. That’s all.” Crooks to Lennie in Of Mice and Men (Steinbeck 71)

“’Anyway, I like it now,’ I said. ‘I mean right now. Sitting here with you and just chewing the fat and horsing-‘
‘That isn’t anything really!’
‘It is so something really! Certainly it is!’” Holden to Phoebe in The Catcher in the Rye (Salinger 172)

And I told the class about how I felt reading their goodbye papers.

I want you to know that you got it. You got what life’s about- the connections you make with the people around you. It’s not about the acceptance letter to UPENN or the huge house and lucrative job or the failed Spanish test; it’s about who you turn to to share those moments. The people in your life enrich every experience you have. And those laughs and even the harder times are best shared with the people you love. It may be one person or fifteen people.

When I crossed the student center today in my urgent trek towards a coffee and the best chocolate chip muffin I’ve ever had, I was struck by how close everyone was standing in the freshmen section. It’s like you know. This is it. This is the last time we’ll congregate in this section, walk to these classes, and feel this close to these people. So make the most of these last days as a freshman. Tell your friends how you feel. Share your goodbye moment piece of writing with the people you wrote about. Hug them. Tell them you love them.

This year is significant for me, too. You’re a special class because you’re the first students I’ve taught in my new role as a mother. I’ve been completely changed. And I can tell you that your number one fan, the people who root for you no matter what, are your parents. Your parents are proud of you and love you more than anyone else. Now I know that. You should know that you can talk to your parents about anything and turn to them whenever you feel like it; they’ll always be there for you.

My goodbye. The moment I’d conjure up happened a gray weekend when my husband and I knew we needed to get Jacob out of the house for awhile. That’ s every weekend, really. But this time we went to The American Museum of Natural History. I hadn’t been there for at least five years or so and I’ve never been there with Jacob despite the fact that he’d been there plenty of times with his nanny and with Bart. I never went.

We went down to the big whale room with the dim lighting, wide open floor, and lighted up cases along the periphery of dead animals. (Yes Holden, they haven’t changed.) It’s a weird concept and seeing the polar bears devouring a seal sort of unnerves me. Jacob loves it-po’bear he says, po’bear and points to the window. A bunch of other kids ran across the center wooded dance floor and Jacob chased the older boys with glee abounding.

We love watching him play. Pure joy. After following him around and going up the stairs and down the glass elevator three times I decided to settle him down for a snack. Man that kid burns calories like a furnace. Bart packed watermelon in a Tupperware tucked in a bag on the stroller. We were sitting on the far corner of the room and no one was directly around us and the whale hung magically above casting a bluish hue of comfort. Jacob sat on my cross legged lap and I fed him a few pieces of watermelon. Then he dug his hands into the container and pushed the watery red juiciness into his little mouth. Bart and I were content and had no place to go. It could have been Sunday or Saturday. As I was taking in the moment, Jacob reached up to put a piece of watermelon in my mouth. I leaned forward and ate it right from his fingers. My eyes might’ve welled up if I was in touch with the love I felt. I savored the refreshing snack and that instant. It was perfect. It still is.
That’s my goodbye memory.

There’s no goodbye at all- except that it’ll never be the first year of my teaching as a mother ever again. Previous years I always carried papers and the weight of educating young minds with me wherever I went; this year was different. I didn’t consider the hours I needed to invest in grading and planning at that moment. When I’m with my husband and my son, I’m with my husband and my son. I love that time.

Music: "Nothing Gives Me Pleasure" Josh Rouse, Under Cold Blue Stars

Tuesday, June 02, 2009

Happy Birthday Uncle Michael!


Happy Birthday Uncle Michael!
I loved seeing you, Aunt Michelle, Grammy and Duke and spending time at your beautiful home.
Thanks for all the love, and the yummy food too!
Here I am in one of the golf carts eating an apple. After this photo I put my juicy little fingers all over the score card.

Monday, June 01, 2009

Cars





Hello! It's June and summer is almost here.

Jacob loves moving vehicles: cars, buses, bicycles, motorcycles, tractors and garbage trucks.

Here he is at his 18 month appointment (28 lbs 9 oz, 33 in) looking at his Trucks book with Dadda.
Language acquisition is truly amazing. Jacob says at least 30 words and is learning new ones rapidly. Jacob says cars, one of his favorite words, frequently. Yesterday Jacob found my car on 85th Street parked among all the other cars. While saying cars and pointing to them, he looked at my nondescript black car and said Momma. Bart told me he did this on the way to the playground. I found it hard to believe; but when Jacob did it again on the way home I was truly surprised. How can he know my car among all the other cars? Really?