26 in 2014

Merely three days back on the east coast and you know what I've noticed? Although the temperatures are comparable to those in Boise, it seems colder here. Although there is a stronger windchill and definitely more snow in Boise, it seems more frigid here. My heart and soul were warmer in Boise.

Although Boise certainly isn't my home, my parents are. This most recent visit has solidified that thought for me. My brother told me on the phone tonight that he sits back and watches me interact with others and thinks, "man, what an empowered, loving and giving woman she is." I am staunchly independent, incredibly playful, compassionate to a fault, painfully stubborn and eager to learn, but my parents, well, my parents are my heartbeat. Their words, their passion, their love and their zest for life runs through my veins. In fact, it seems unfair for me to even take a shred of credit for the person they have created and fostered.

In the two weeks I was home, I tried to soak it all in. Soak in their wisdom, their silliness, their strength, their oddities, their love and like a well written book, I was left wanting more.

I am very blessed. I am an incredibly blessed woman because I have such a unique and open relationship with my parents. I spent New Years Eve with them, eating fondue, drinking Sam Adams' finest and gobbling up left over pumpkin pie. We rang in the New Year and at 12:05am, promptly went to bed. I wouldn't have changed a thing.

During my two weeks "home", my parents and I had some of the most fruitful conversations and some of the most silly (a-hem Scarlet Fever a-hem) conversations of my life. At the end of those two weeks, after three days back, I feel that my desires as a 26-year-old seems to boil down to this:

1) Love. I want strong, supportive, loving and heart-warming relationships in my life. I don't want to half-ass anyone. I want those that I love to know that I love them and why.
2) Joy. Like pee-your-pants, over-the-moon, smile uncontrollably, joy. Nothing thaws a winter storm faster than a group of people basking in each other's joy.
3) Taking advantage. When opportunities arise, coin the phrase, "there's no time like the present." On the grand scale, I am going to Europe this summer. On the small scale, I am writing a postcard to a friend every week. I want to build on my joy and love I have in my life so I need to take advantage of the wonderful people God has gifted me in my life. OR when someone calls, I no longer hit the "ignore" button. Taking advantage of opportunities, joy and love and seeking those opportunities are my major action step as a 26-year-old.
4) Embracing myself. God made me; He gifted me with my parents to raise me into this woman I am. Who I am to throw it away or hide it. I wear onsies, I love Jeopardy and shoes with good arch support, I am engrossed by puzzles, love the smell of rain, love children's movies and trashy TV and Top 40 music; I cry in every movie, sing flat most of the time, think my voice is too nasally and I bite my nails. But I love people; I believe in people and I believe that we all belong to each other...26 is about embracing all of that.

26 in 2014 is about thawing my heart when it's away from my home. 26 in 2014 is about loving joy and living to the fullest while embracing every imperfection, because at this point, let's face it, am I going to change that much? 26 in 2014 is about being grateful. Grateful to God, grateful to friends and most importantly, grateful to the two human beings that I had the privilege of bringing in 2014 with. I feel it in my bones. It's time. Things are beginning to thaw out, out east.

Week 8: The Pre-K Diaries

Well, I've made it through eight whole weeks of Pre-K. Although there was apprehension, fear, excitement and a dash of doubt, I have survived the first five weeks of school and more importantly, so have my students.

I have an interesting band of 17 misfits with big personalities and even bigger needs. It's definitely been a challenge to learn what motivates them and what manipulation techniques I can use to persuade them to follow the rules or "make good choices" as we say in my classroom.

With that said, here are the top ten Pre-K moments so far with my band of misfits:

10. Reminding me that They are Little People Still Learning Right From Wrong: Don't know why this is number 10, but yesterday a student went into the bathroom and after I shut the curtain behind him (not more than two minutes) I heard a huge crash in the bathroom...he broke something...well, it turns out he pushed the cover off of the toilet lid and it smashed to the ground. Not sure how he lifted it or why he did it but when I asked him if it was a good choice, he didn't know. Needless to say, now he doesn't get the curtain shut behind him anymore and the toilet has a cardboard box over the tank.
9. Their Sense of Justice: Since day one, I have repeated the line: "Pre-K is fair" to my students with the hopes that they'll gain a better understanding of sharing. Well, this week,one of my students with an IEP (specialized plan for children with special needs) was watching as another student run up to the schedule and tear off the arrow pointing to where we were in the schedule. B was so appalled by this action, apparently, that he got up from the carpet, took the arrow from the other student saying, "No, N, that's not OK. You're not making good choices" and he put the arrow back on the schedule. I didn't have to say anything...B felt a sense of injustice and wanted to right the wrong.
8. Creativity: during an assessment, one of the questions is - does he/she know his/her full name? I asked one little girl what her name was and she said, "Claire". Then I asked, "Claire? What? What's your last name?" She stopped, thought for a second and smiled brightly while screaming, "Claire Polka Dot!"
7. Their Grasp on Reality: I took my students on a listening walk but before we went, I asked them, "what do you think we'll hear on our listening walk?" Their answers go as follows: -a firetruck -a car -a dog -a plane -a tractor trailer and my favorite, a  princess turning strawberries into frogs. I love that in my job description, I am not allowed to correct them, this was a brainstorming activity and you never know, we might've heard a princess turning strawberries into frogs on our listening walk.
6. The Innocence of their Thoughts: It's inevitable that a handful of my students are going to be listening to the same music as I. I recently heard a few students singing Robin Thicke's "Blurred Lines" which is 100% about sex. My students kept repeating the same lyric over and over: "I know you want it. I know you want it." So I finally asked them, "What do you think he wants?" and without a beat they responded, "I don't know, a cookie?"
5. Their Emotions: The emotions they have are so pure and raw and honest that it's beautiful. When they give you a hug, it's the best hug you've ever gotten. Yesterday a student was very sad after his mom left and my youngest student turned to him and said, "it's OK, mommies always come back" as she rubbed his back.
4. Their Ability to Roll With the Punches: We were reading Caps for Sale and it was my third read through and by this point they knew most of the words in the story because a few lines repeats over and over again. I read one of these repetitious lines, "Caps! Caps, for sale! 50 cents a cap!" and they read it with me. When it came time for the line again they anxiously yelled, "Caps! Caps, for sale! 50 dollars a cap!" I stopped, and smiled in disbelief and said, "wait, wait, wait, is this because of inflation?" And they screamed, "yes, caps are expensive!"
3. Their Ideas of beauty: while playing beauty parlor with my hair, they have pulled out probably half of my scalp...but as they constantly tell me, "it's all to make you more beautiful" and then one little girl screams, "we need more grease!" Still trying to figure this one out.
2. Discovering Little Boys' Problems with Being Easily Distracted: I learned very quickly that when a little boy is using the bathroom, that is the WORST time to say his name (unless, of course, you don't mind cleaning up urine off the floor, toilet seat, walls, step stool, his clothing and yours as well).
1. Potty Humor: I had a little boy who went #2 on the toilet and as I popped my head in to see if he was OK and asked, "hey, man is everything alright in here?" He lit up, hopped down from the toilet, turned around and bent over (spreading his cheeks wide open in front of me). I looked at his bum and then him and said, "you can wipe. Ms. Katie doesn't wipe" and walked away.  

Measuring Our Success

In my Pre-K classroom the measure of success isn't with the things one would usually expect. Yes, academics like knowing your letters, counting, knowing the shapes and colors are all very important but the thing that the parents ask for the most and the assessment that carries the most weight is the one measuring their child's level of personal/social interactions and empathy.

I made the silly mistake on my first home visit of being overly prepared to report to the parents all the letters and numbers their child knew and I even brought some example writing samples their child had done but the funny thing was when we started talking they didn't really care about the materials I had prepared. They wanted to know how their son was interacting with other children. And when it came time for them to make a "goal" for their child it wasn't for him to master writing his name or being able to read, but it was for him to make a friend and sympathize better with his peers.

That got me thinking, how do we get from those goals of empathizing with our peers to turning a blind eye to the needs of others. With the "recent" government shutdown, it's been a bit of a mess here in DC. Many are furloughed and many are in danger of not being able to pay their bills. I have friends who aren't getting paid but are still working and are nervous about how their rent will be paid.

Even though these realities exist it's amazing to me that there are people (a-hem, FOX news) that voice their opinions in between chuckles, "so a few tourists won't be able to see Statue of Liberty or the National Parks, this isn't a catastrophe like the democrats are trying to say it is."

To put some perspective on it, and to share an interesting fact; the District of Columbia has a budget controlled by the House. We have no "rainy day funds" or state funds backing us up. Meaning, this Tuesday will be the last time teachers in the public schools will be paid and charter schools (like mine) will lose funding on Oct. 25th. It appears that two sides are arguing and fighting over things that (in my opinion) seem minuscule compared to libraries, schools, trash companies, post offices and food inspection companies being shut down. The stubborn-ness and lack of compassion (and empathy) for those they are hurting is appalling.  So, I wonder, is it funny now? When does it become a catastrophe, my friends? When do citizens start to demand more and cry out in disgust and anger?

In my classroom if two students are arguing and can't come to a resolution we talk it through to see both sides until a resolution is met that both parties can deal with; and if that doesn't happen, they sit in time out. Does our government need a time out? Maybe equal treatment like their paychecks being withheld? Or maybe just a return to Pre-K so they can remember what we should be measuring success by: empathy.

All I Need is a Mix Tape

Call me a modern day woman or (more likely) correctly identifying my Love Language but I am struck by a song a just heard on the radio which prompted a conversation with my roommate about what I'd want from "my man".

I was listening to Bruno Mars' song, "If I was Your Man" and felt a little funny about it because the chorus goes: "Well, I should've bought you flowers and held your hand. Should've given you all my hours, when I had the chance. Taken you to every party, because I know how you like to dance."

Now, I'm not one to argue with the wisdom of pop music now-a-days (especially since the 2012 hit, "Instagram that Hoe" came out) BUT I do believe women are expecting more from their significant others than 1) flowers 2) hand holding and 3) dancing. I mean, are we that simple?

This conversation pushed my roommate to ask me, "well, Katie, if he was your man, what would he be singing?"

Never one to shy away from an interesting and slightly silly hypothetical, here is my answer:
If he was my man, he would ---- offer me an honest, loving relationship based on equality; give me hugs even when I'm PMS-ing, eating a pint of ice cream on the couch and have a nice dot-to-dot of zits on my chin; let me have time with my friends but smile when I text him periodically throughout the night; love watching football with me; put away my clean laundry for me out of the blue one day because he knows I hate doing it; ask me about my day; want to meet my family and friends and join in on their crazy banter; dance when he wants to; laugh when he can and cry when he feels like it; compete against me in trivia and not judge me when I know nothing about our country's history prior to 1942; let me take care of him and most importantly, make me a mix tape*.

Flowers can be bought at a store anywhere, heck even the street vender sells them right by my apartment and sure, diamonds are shiny but a mix tape, now there is something from the heart. Think about it, he picks songs specifically that remind him of you and the relationship you share. He's put in a few hours to pick which ones are perfect, sprinkling in a few silly songs like "Make Love in This Club" by Usher or "Can't Get Enough of Your Love" by Barry White and conclude the tape with the song that will surly epitomize your relationship together. It's that simple and dare I say it, that cheap. Just get me something thoughtful, something that means a lot to you and I'll be happy. That's the secret, that's the key...not dancing, not flowers, not hand holding; just a mix tape.

*To modernize it a bit, a mixed tape can be replaced with a compact disc. :)

Relationship Blessings

When visiting my sister, she mentioned that her 10 year high school reunion was coming up and it made me reflect on the seven years I've been out of high school. I thought about the relationships I still have, the ones I no longer have and the new ones that are just now forming.

As I reflected I thought about the people I've had the privilege of meeting on the east coast. I formed relationships with all sorts of people: young, old, neighbor, bus driver, roommate, community mate, Bills fans, bartender, teacher, councilor and plain ol' friend. Their stories and their love has formed me into the person I am today. But it definitely came with a trade off. For the three years I've been on the east coast, I've missed birthdays, weddings, taco Tuesdays, movie night, going away parties and babies being born with my friends on the west coast (and they laid the foundation for who I am).

At my hostess job, I strike up conversations once in a while with men going to watch "the game" and they ask where I'm from. When I tell them, they say, "wow, that's really far. Why are you still here?" I always come up with a cutsie response like, "well, this bar needs me" or something like that. In actuality, I feel like the luckiest woman alive...as my new assistant teacher would say, "I am blessed."

I have people who have touched my life spanning from Korea to California, from Maine to Texas and Detroit to Seattle. I am blessed and I wouldn't have it any other way. Yes, I am sad that I miss so many amazing things my friends in Washington are doing and the pictures I see or the hour-long phone chats we have make me want to pack up and move back but then I think to myself, "dang, once I move back, I'll have the same longing to be back in DC with my friends there."

My dad always says, "what if history is silly history" but for kicks, what if I had never moved to the east coast? I wouldn't have missed weddings, birthdays, bridal showers, baby showers or taco Tuesdays but think of all I would've missed out on: Cowboy Tito's dance moves, Ms. Angie's humor and friendship, Mr. T in Bridgeport who showed me the true meaning of social justice, watching a student get adopted!, meeting many amazing roommates, seeing major cities in the US, reconnecting with my Jersey family, representing the 'Hawks at bars on Sundays, going to Costa Rica, forming my Miriam's Kitchen family. I have been blessed. Is it possible to have too many blessings? It's overwhelming when you think about it; I mean really think about it. Think of the Christmas or Hannukah cards you get around the holidays...those people love you and were part of some fiber that helped make up you.

Too many blessings...taking a step back to reflect on my choice to move out here has left me feeling full. I feel like the relationships that chose me have been the greatest and most rewarding blessings I have.

Busin' It

Now, I know when people think of DC transportation they usually think about biking or metro-ing. Well, my friends, I tried biking and failed miserably...no need to try and comfort me, I have accepted the fact that I am neither a city biker nor a mountain biker (strictly a training wheel, suburban biker here). AND metro-ing is insanely expensive in DC. Therefore, I am a buser (a muggle as Colleen would say). 

In my two-year long career as an avid bus-rider I have witnessed and experienced a plethora of interesting people and of course, as many young people do, I feel that entitles me to have an opinion on busing etiquette.

Things That Bother Me (and yes, I realize this makes me sounds a million years old):

- Youngins' playing their rap music crazy loud on the bus. Get headphones or don't listen. I heard the "n" word at least 12 times today in one young man's choice of music...I don't want to hear that and I'm sure the 70-year-old women next to me didn't want to either.

-People who talk on speaker phone on the bus. I mean, really? No one wants to hear the gossip about Tiffany hooking up with Angela's boyfriend on loudspeaker; just as much as I don't want to hear your wife telling you what you need to buy at the store. Turn off speakerphone.

-People who are so self-consumed, they don't move to the back of the bus so people don't have to have their noses in someone's armpit. No one likes that, both the owner of the nose and the arm-pit owner. As a short person, this happens to me all the time and it could be remedied if the one bo-zo blocking the way would just continue walking to the back of the bus.

-Youngins' who don't even offer their seat when an elderly person, disabled person or mother with children gets on the bus. OR people who are skinnier than I who intentionally sit in the middle of the two seats and don't scoot over when it begins to get crowded on the bus...you don't need two seats, dude, you weigh 100lbs. soaking wet; I know guys like to sprawl out their legs to let their "man parts" breathe or whatever but close your legs, stop being a jerk and share your seats. Same thing if you have your purse, ladies, it doesn't need a seat either...put it on your lap.

-People sitting in the aisle seat who don't get up when it's your stop. Instead, they just swing their legs over to the aisle and make you climb over them as you try to exit the bus. Come on, people, don't be rude and lazy, just get up and let me off...you don't want my butt in your face and I don't want to slip and land in your lap.

-People who are pigs on the bus. It says don't eat or drink, but heck, I do it. Just don't be a pig. I don't want to sit in your squished Cheeto stained seat after your done. AND (this really happened to Emily and I) do not defecate on the bus and hide it somewhere. From experience, once the bus driver finds it, they kick everyone off and the bus goes out of service...plus it's just nasty; not the kind of present we want to find.

Things I Like About the Bus:

-Talking to strangers. When people are friendly and actually strike up conversation, it's awesome. Makes my bus riding experience 10 times better and we both learn a lot that way. I learned about public pools, directions, grocery stores and thrift shops that were hidden in DC. So start talking, you never know what you might discover.

-The bus drivers can be really awesome. I had one that I saw every morning when I went to school on the 7:17am bus and he learned my name and said "good morning" to me each day. In the rare occasion I took an earlier or later bus, he'd notice too. Such a sweet man.

-It's cheaper than the metro, more direct than the metro and takes you through the city whereas the metro goes underground so you don't get to see any of the city.

-Sometimes has air conditioning and heat. 'Nuf said.

I just wanted to shed some light on the busing adventures in DC. I love to bus, but sometimes, it can be frustrating when people aren't considerate of others.

Heavy Hearted Question

Tonight I am writing with a heavy heart. I don't want my blog to be the birthplace of controversy or to stir up negative emotions but I can't get this out of my head (nor will the media let me).

Picture this:
A guy, in a navy blue hoodie his Grandma bought him for his birthday two weeks ago, walks to a convenient store to get some Starbursts for his little sister...she had been bugging him all week about those stupid Starbursts. After he pays, he thanks the cashier and walks home. He even holds the door open for another customer as she enters. As he's heading home, it's a little chilly, so he puts on his hood. After a little bit, he hears a car creeping behind him. Sure he's just hallucinating or paranoid, he keeps walking...but then he continues to hear it. He clears his blond locks out of his sight and looks over his shoulder only to see a car stopped with its lights on. As strange as it is, it's a sleepy town so he doesn't think much of it and keeps walking. He's the captain of the soccer team for goodness sakes, he can handle this, but he still has a funny feeling about the car so he calls his girlfriend and says, "hey, I think someone is following me." She tells him to run. So he begins to sprint and the car speeds up. He looks over his shoulder again, hair flopping in his face, to see a man getting out of his car, charging him. He turns around to face the man, because he can't run forever and the man starts to punch him. They exchange blows until the man pulls out his gun and the final blow is given. The captain of the soccer team is dead.

You probably knew what I was alluding to once you reached the part about Starbursts...
 Trayvon Martin.

Now, before I ruffle any feathers, I have to say... I am against ANY violence; to animals to adults to children to trees; in riots, in justifiable homicide, in war and in "stand your ground" cases. Murder is murder and killing is killing; even if it is within the law to do so. Anyone who kills should go to jail, in my opinion. But that's not what I'm writing about tonight.

In this scenario, I depicted the Starburst wielding boy as a white kid. If I had a dime for every time I heard someone say, "this wasn't about race" when talking about the Trayvon Martin case, I would be a wealthy, wealthy lady. It is about race; it's always about race. Our country has race deeply ingrained into everything it thinks, says or does. Humor me for a second...

I will never know what it feels like to have a woman clutch her purse and move away from me when I stand next to her on the bus. I will never know what it feels like to hear car doors lock as I pass by on the sidewalk. I will never know what it feels like to be followed in a store by a clerk. I will never know what it feels like to have someone cross the street when they see me up ahead. These are realities for black men. I had a friend in Bridgeport who told me very casually as if it was nothing, that these above listed things happened to him daily and had been happening to him since he was 10. SINCE HE WAS 10! Race is always there and it was there the night Trayvon was killed. This is about race.

Tell me, did you feel sorry for the captain of soccer team that I just depicted? It's OK if you did, heck, I did. I anticipate that if it was a white kid instead of a black kid who was killed, this is the kind of story we would've gotten from the media. Not one depicting him as a "thug" or "fighter" or splitting hairs over whether he was a "boy" or a "man". It would've been a different story and it would've had a different outcome. Dare I say, I even believe this above mentioned story would've remained fiction because Zimmerman wouldn't have followed a white boy home in the first place?

Now, I;m left with a heavy heart because I hate violence, a family lost their son and because racism is still alive today, deep down (we all scurry to lock our car doors from time to time). But also because I am white. I have dated black men, taught black children, comforted and found housing for black adults and laughed and danced with black senior citizens but I am still white. No matter how hard I want to push away or ignore the underlying race divide, it's there. Our country was founded on racial divides and our justice system is insanely broken. For example, "people of color make up about 30 percent of the United States’ population, they account for 60 percent of those imprisoned" and "one in three black men will go to prison in their lifetime" (http://www.americanprogress.org/issues/race/news/2012/03/13/11351/the-top-10-most-startling-facts-about-people-of-color-and-criminal-justice-in-the-united-states/).  These are facts. It's about race.

So I'm left asking myself, in this tragedy and the many that are happening even as I type, what can I do?

(What sparked this post was this article about Barack Obama, take a read if you have a moment: http://nbcpolitics.nbcnews.com/_news/2013/07/19/19563211-obama-trayvon-martin-could-have-been-me-35-years-ago?lite . Per usual, he says it better than I.)