Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
They gave me candy and called me their light...
The past two days have been emotional for me. So emotional that I don't know how to write about them, but I'm going to try.
For the past three years I've taught AVID at my school. AVID (Advancement Via Individual Determination) is a program that aims to help students in the middle who have potential, learn the skills and take the rigorous classes necessary to gain admission to a 4 year university upon graduating from high school. I believe in AVID. I believe because I've seen it work.
My school, due to budgetary concerns, has cut the AVID program for next year. My students and I have known about this for quite some time, but it's still a hard pill to swallow. I've spent three years with these kids, taught them organization skills, how to work effectively in groups, how to write better papers, how to talk appropriately with their teachers and peers, SAT and ACT test taking skills..... and now the class is no more. I'm heartsick. I'm going to miss ending the day with my kids.
I didn't always feel this way about them. Freshman year was rough, and I spent many afternoons in my classroom crying in frustration. That was the year I:
1. repeatedly shot down the idea that AVID was special ed,
2. constantly had to command them to stop touching each other innappropriately,
3. reminded them almost daily that they were in high school, not elementary
4. was present for more than one disciplinary hearing,
5. filled my recycling bin with the contents of 1 student's disgusting backpack at least 3 times.
6. lost the lid to my Candy Jar after the class decided to see how far it would fly,
and
7. thought I was incapable of loving them.
Sophomore year was better, but I still wondered if this group would EVER catch the vision and get with the program. Halfway through the school year I realized that I truly loved my class, warts and all. This was also the time when one of my students gave up completely and began to act out in such a terrible manner that I had to write my first referral in 5 years. I had to kick a lot of kids out of AVID at the end of Sophomore year, and that hurt, but it was the right thing to do.
This year AVID has been the best part of my day. I was blessed to have AVID for my 8th period class and so we ended each day together. On the first day of school my AVID students walked in and we were just so happy to be together again. We talked about the year and the challenges they would be facing. They asked me intelligent questions about the SAT and ACT tests they'd be taking. I finally saw that although it didn't seem like it, they'd actually been listening to me.
We worked hard this year, and my students challenged themselves to a level they'd never done before. We loved AVID and we loved each other. We had finally become a family. Gone were the cliques and hurtful names, gone was the drama that had plagued our first two years. What we had left was a group of kids that worked incredibly well together, that wanted to help each other succeed.
Then, halfway through this year came the news that AVID had become another victim of our economy. I kept the news from my students as long as I could, but by the beginning of 2nd semester I had to tell them. They took it badly. We cried. We were angry. But we kept working.
My AVID students continued to participate in tutorial groups even when we had no tutors. They continued to listen to my *ahem* wise words of advice. They carried on. They embodied as a group the words of one of their classmates who said "We are AVID. They can cancel the class, but they can't get rid of AVID because it's inside of us."
On the day of finals, I planned a special awards ceremony where I talked about each student and gave them an award. We cried through the entire thing and had to hug it out when it was over. I thought, "Well that was tough, but at least it's over now."
Notsomuch. Today they all came into my class during the break between finals to present me with a scrapbook they'd made for me. Each student wrote me a letter and they'd also put in pictures I took of each of them wearing my graduation robes from UNLV. They wrote that they would be friends forever, and that they were ready for what lay ahead. The last page states "This is not the end..."
It made me cry. BIG SHUDDERING UGLY SOBS and reminded me of the end of Dangerous Minds where Michelle Pfieffer's character decides to continue teaching even though it nearly killed her. Her friend says "How'd they get you to stay?" She replies, "They gave me candy and called me their light." and he says, "That'll do it."
He's right. That'll do it.
For the past three years I've taught AVID at my school. AVID (Advancement Via Individual Determination) is a program that aims to help students in the middle who have potential, learn the skills and take the rigorous classes necessary to gain admission to a 4 year university upon graduating from high school. I believe in AVID. I believe because I've seen it work.
My school, due to budgetary concerns, has cut the AVID program for next year. My students and I have known about this for quite some time, but it's still a hard pill to swallow. I've spent three years with these kids, taught them organization skills, how to work effectively in groups, how to write better papers, how to talk appropriately with their teachers and peers, SAT and ACT test taking skills..... and now the class is no more. I'm heartsick. I'm going to miss ending the day with my kids.
I didn't always feel this way about them. Freshman year was rough, and I spent many afternoons in my classroom crying in frustration. That was the year I:
1. repeatedly shot down the idea that AVID was special ed,
2. constantly had to command them to stop touching each other innappropriately,
3. reminded them almost daily that they were in high school, not elementary
4. was present for more than one disciplinary hearing,
5. filled my recycling bin with the contents of 1 student's disgusting backpack at least 3 times.
6. lost the lid to my Candy Jar after the class decided to see how far it would fly,
and
7. thought I was incapable of loving them.
Sophomore year was better, but I still wondered if this group would EVER catch the vision and get with the program. Halfway through the school year I realized that I truly loved my class, warts and all. This was also the time when one of my students gave up completely and began to act out in such a terrible manner that I had to write my first referral in 5 years. I had to kick a lot of kids out of AVID at the end of Sophomore year, and that hurt, but it was the right thing to do.
This year AVID has been the best part of my day. I was blessed to have AVID for my 8th period class and so we ended each day together. On the first day of school my AVID students walked in and we were just so happy to be together again. We talked about the year and the challenges they would be facing. They asked me intelligent questions about the SAT and ACT tests they'd be taking. I finally saw that although it didn't seem like it, they'd actually been listening to me.
We worked hard this year, and my students challenged themselves to a level they'd never done before. We loved AVID and we loved each other. We had finally become a family. Gone were the cliques and hurtful names, gone was the drama that had plagued our first two years. What we had left was a group of kids that worked incredibly well together, that wanted to help each other succeed.
Then, halfway through this year came the news that AVID had become another victim of our economy. I kept the news from my students as long as I could, but by the beginning of 2nd semester I had to tell them. They took it badly. We cried. We were angry. But we kept working.
My AVID students continued to participate in tutorial groups even when we had no tutors. They continued to listen to my *ahem* wise words of advice. They carried on. They embodied as a group the words of one of their classmates who said "We are AVID. They can cancel the class, but they can't get rid of AVID because it's inside of us."
On the day of finals, I planned a special awards ceremony where I talked about each student and gave them an award. We cried through the entire thing and had to hug it out when it was over. I thought, "Well that was tough, but at least it's over now."
Notsomuch. Today they all came into my class during the break between finals to present me with a scrapbook they'd made for me. Each student wrote me a letter and they'd also put in pictures I took of each of them wearing my graduation robes from UNLV. They wrote that they would be friends forever, and that they were ready for what lay ahead. The last page states "This is not the end..."
It made me cry. BIG SHUDDERING UGLY SOBS and reminded me of the end of Dangerous Minds where Michelle Pfieffer's character decides to continue teaching even though it nearly killed her. Her friend says "How'd they get you to stay?" She replies, "They gave me candy and called me their light." and he says, "That'll do it."
He's right. That'll do it.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
That's how I'm feeling.
Meh.
That's why I haven't posted.
Don't get me wrong, I've had a good couple of weeks. I got to go to my parents' cabin this weekend, I'm walking on two feet without the aid of the walking boot or crutches, and school's out in 1 1/2 weeks. I should be happy, planning my summer and looking forward to the sleeping in and other lovely things....
But.....
meh.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Well, I can now just up and die of happiness...
Awhile ago I wrote about the wonders of the new BBC television series Robin Hood. I waxed poetic about the fun story lines and cute boys and related the sad news that I do not, in fact, have BBC America, and therefore have to wait until each season is released on dvd.
I thought that would be all I'd have to say on the subject,(on this lil' ole' blog anyway) but I was wrong. Ohhhhhhh how I was wrong.
Because, you see, in series three not only is Richard Armitage
back playing the evil (yet yummy) Guy of Gisborne,
and cutey pie Jonas Armstrong
as the cheeky, yet righteous Robin
but new to the show is,
wait for it.....
My boyfriend Toby Stephens playing Prince John!!!!!!!!!!
And I will love him, even though he wants to kill adorable little Robin Hood.
So let's get this straight. In a British show that I already love, I get to watch
him, and
him, and (be still my beating heart)
him?
As my friend Ricci put it "There could be absolutely no plot and this would still be the best show on TV."
Damn. I'm going to have to get BBC America.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Things You Should Check Out, Volume 4
This beautiful little jewel of a film came out my freshman year in college (1992) but for some unfathomable reason, wasn't released on dvd in the U.S. until last week. I have personally been waiting for this film since I converted my movie collection to dvd a few years ago.
If you don't know what this movie's about, I can sum it up with one word: Love. Love of self, love of others, love of those who are difficult to love, love of nature, love of strangers.
It's the story of four British women who, for individual reasons decide to share a vacation at an Italian castle for the month of April. At first they struggle with themselves and each other, but because one is willing to love unconditionally the castle becomes a home, a "bucket of love". These women are transformed because they step outside themselves and choose to be different than they've always been.
My favorite moment is when Lottie (played by the magical Josie Lawrence) makes the realization that the problems in her marriage were not solely the responsibility of her cold and distant husband. She decides that instead of loving him in the manner he has loved her (not very well), she will love him with her whole heart. What a powerful message.
I also love that these women were miserable and instead of wallowing in it, chose to step outside of their comfort zone and make a difference in their lives. It makes me want to do the same (and a month in an Italian castle wouldn't hurt, you know?)
Finally, it's beautiful. A feast for the eyes.
Of course, this is a woman's movie (I refuse to call it a chick flick. It's too special for that), a period piece, and British. If those things aren't your cup o' tea, I understand, but I'd hate for you to miss it.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Look Ma! Two feet!!
My doctor's visit went well, my foot's healing, everthing's in the right place, and my doctor told me I could start trying to walk without the boot.
He gave me three rules:
1. No Running.
2. No Jumping.
3. No Falling. (Wah wah wah!)
When we left the office my mom and I decided to go to Target, 'cause why wouldn't we? She dropped me off at the door and I took my first non-booted steps. It felt like I was walking on a marshmallow, a magical, pain shooting marshmallow.
Yesterday I was able to walk without the boot through my first three class period, but by the end of 6th period I was hurting. Last night was also our AVID Awards Night, and I didn't want to wear jeans, so I put on a skirt, tights and flats and went with out the boot. It was probably too much, but I looked cute, so I felt like it was worth it.
I came home and put on the boot, frantically cleaning and packing for my trip to Utah this weekend for Mother's Day. Let me tell you a little something about me: When I get into a cleaning jag I become single minded. Let me tell you a little something else: Because I switched from shoe to boot midday I brought my left tennis shoe home in a Trader Joe's bag along with my water bottles and lunch stuff.
Sooooooooo to make a long story short, I cleaned and cleaned and cleaned until I had three bags of trash to take out. Although I was tired and my foot was hurting, I clomped down my stairs with three bags of trash narrowly avoiding rule #3.
On my way back from the dumpster, my neighbor congratulated me "Good job girl! Next you'll be running a marathon!" I felt all warm and fuzzy.
Later that night after I'd taken a bath and removed my boot I started to lay out my clothes for today and realized I couldn't find my left shoe. I searched everywhere, finally realizing that the Trader Joe's bag was no where to be found. "Where in the world did I put the...."
Oh.
Poopy.
I threw it away.
In the dumpster.
Downstairs.
So, because I was tired and couldn't stomach the idea of putting the boot back on I gimped my way downstairs with wet hair and no bra and jammies to pull my trash out of the dumpster to search for my missing shoe.
I got down there only to realize that the dumpster was nearly empty which meant that unless I had developed super human reach, broke rule #2, or both, I couldn't reach my garbage sacks.
I didn't feel warm and fuzzy. Instead I felt sweaty and prickly as I thought:
Oh
Poopy.
I have to go upstairs, get the step ladder, gimp back down here, and THEN pull trash out of the dumpster to find my shoe.
And that's what I did.
By the time I got back to my apartment with my shoe but without some of my dignity, my foot felt like it was on fire.
At least I didn't
Run
Jump, or
Fall.
THAT would have been bad.
He gave me three rules:
1. No Running.
2. No Jumping.
3. No Falling. (Wah wah wah!)
When we left the office my mom and I decided to go to Target, 'cause why wouldn't we? She dropped me off at the door and I took my first non-booted steps. It felt like I was walking on a marshmallow, a magical, pain shooting marshmallow.
Yesterday I was able to walk without the boot through my first three class period, but by the end of 6th period I was hurting. Last night was also our AVID Awards Night, and I didn't want to wear jeans, so I put on a skirt, tights and flats and went with out the boot. It was probably too much, but I looked cute, so I felt like it was worth it.
I came home and put on the boot, frantically cleaning and packing for my trip to Utah this weekend for Mother's Day. Let me tell you a little something about me: When I get into a cleaning jag I become single minded. Let me tell you a little something else: Because I switched from shoe to boot midday I brought my left tennis shoe home in a Trader Joe's bag along with my water bottles and lunch stuff.
Sooooooooo to make a long story short, I cleaned and cleaned and cleaned until I had three bags of trash to take out. Although I was tired and my foot was hurting, I clomped down my stairs with three bags of trash narrowly avoiding rule #3.
On my way back from the dumpster, my neighbor congratulated me "Good job girl! Next you'll be running a marathon!" I felt all warm and fuzzy.
Later that night after I'd taken a bath and removed my boot I started to lay out my clothes for today and realized I couldn't find my left shoe. I searched everywhere, finally realizing that the Trader Joe's bag was no where to be found. "Where in the world did I put the...."
Oh.
Poopy.
I threw it away.
In the dumpster.
Downstairs.
So, because I was tired and couldn't stomach the idea of putting the boot back on I gimped my way downstairs with wet hair and no bra and jammies to pull my trash out of the dumpster to search for my missing shoe.
I got down there only to realize that the dumpster was nearly empty which meant that unless I had developed super human reach, broke rule #2, or both, I couldn't reach my garbage sacks.
I didn't feel warm and fuzzy. Instead I felt sweaty and prickly as I thought:
Oh
Poopy.
I have to go upstairs, get the step ladder, gimp back down here, and THEN pull trash out of the dumpster to find my shoe.
And that's what I did.
By the time I got back to my apartment with my shoe but without some of my dignity, my foot felt like it was on fire.
At least I didn't
Run
Jump, or
Fall.
THAT would have been bad.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Look What I Can Do!
As I mentioned in a previous post I attempted, but failed to make a homemade banana cream pie.
I considered giving up completely after the rubbery mass I produced the first time, but my mama didn't raise no quitter.
Soooooooo, although I live alone and knew I'd probably end up eating enough banana cream pie to make me puke and increase the size of my hiney, I persevered. I'm not one to back down from a challenge... especially one in pie form (mmmm pie).
The custard for this pie is made from brown sugar rather than white, and includes both cinnamon and nutmeg, so it's not the traditional vanilla custard used in banana cream pies. Intriguing, no? This time I knew a little better what I was doing, ignored some of the more confusing directions while making the custard and ended up with this:
instead of the rubbery industrial sludge I got last time.
Then, after waiting for the custard to set, I layered custard and bananas and custard and bananas and then made the topping from whipped cream, vanilla, and sour cream. It was so pretty when I finished:
Here's a cross section:
mmmmmmmmmm. And, it tastes better than it looks. Really. And if you don't believe me, ask these two people:
(actual yummy faces.)
If you'd like to have one of these lovelies for your very own you can find the recipe here. (Just don't cook the custard as long as they tell you to. When it get's to pudding texture STOP cooking people!!)
I considered giving up completely after the rubbery mass I produced the first time, but my mama didn't raise no quitter.
Soooooooo, although I live alone and knew I'd probably end up eating enough banana cream pie to make me puke and increase the size of my hiney, I persevered. I'm not one to back down from a challenge... especially one in pie form (mmmm pie).
The custard for this pie is made from brown sugar rather than white, and includes both cinnamon and nutmeg, so it's not the traditional vanilla custard used in banana cream pies. Intriguing, no? This time I knew a little better what I was doing, ignored some of the more confusing directions while making the custard and ended up with this:
instead of the rubbery industrial sludge I got last time.
Then, after waiting for the custard to set, I layered custard and bananas and custard and bananas and then made the topping from whipped cream, vanilla, and sour cream. It was so pretty when I finished:
Here's a cross section:
mmmmmmmmmm. And, it tastes better than it looks. Really. And if you don't believe me, ask these two people:
(actual yummy faces.)
If you'd like to have one of these lovelies for your very own you can find the recipe here. (Just don't cook the custard as long as they tell you to. When it get's to pudding texture STOP cooking people!!)
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