Monday, September 7, 2009

Novels, and not novel ideas either.

So lately I've been reevaluating my life goals and trying to narrow my options for grad school. With a whole bunch of AmeriCorps education money, a decent IQ, and no student loans to pay off, I figure I just may as well go back for my master's degree. The thing is, I love reading and learning. Every program I look at is just so goddamn FASCINATING, I can't fathom how anyone would just KNOW what they wanted to study. I'm trying to be reasonable, though, and come out of this really knowing where I see myself in the long term.

For the time being, I've settled upon University of Baltimore's Creative Writing & Publishing Arts program because I've always and forever been a writer. If there are two constants in my life, they are my need to write and play music. Music performance doesn't seem like it's in the cards as a career per se, but writing and media management sure could be.

Lately I've been taking out old ideas and old writing, dusting them off, and seeing what I can make out of them. While rummaging through a bunch of old notes passed between myself and my friend Oli in seventh grade (yes, okay, I still have them), I found this. I might see what I can make of it for National Novel Writing Month, which is fast approaching and sure to go much more smoothly if I have a plot to write on from the outset. The bulk of the handwriting is mine, but the big "BOOK!" at the bottom is from Oli. Interesting to see what I was thinking from ages 12-14. Alternate realities, breaking spells, etc.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

"Can't Touch This"

Today, I found a great example of how a hands-off approach can really work when trying to connect with my students -- and a few examples of how hands-on approaches work terrific, too.

Hands-on example 1: We took the kids on a field trip today to the movies: they had the choice of seeing either Ponyo or G-Force 3-D. Fortunately, I lucked out and got to see Ponyo instead of "the hamster movie." Unfortunately, my viewing was interrupted by several bathroom breaks and one frightened kindergartner. Where does the hands-on approach fit in here? Well, that kindergartner absolutely would not bring himself back into the theatre after we brought him outside in tears. Until I picked him up and promised him that he could sit with me and use my hands to cover his face, he refused to return to the theatre. My presence (and hands, because he insisted on using my hands to cover his eyes) calmed him and helped him to enjoy the rest of the "scary" movie without issue.

Hands-on example 2: After spooning sugary juice, popcorn, and fruit snacks into their bellies, most of the kids were ready to crash by the end of the films. We shoved them onto the bus and I had the luck to sit with two sweet little ones, Ashley and Chanah. Well, Ashley almost immediately fell asleep next to me, but Chanah was very wound up (as kids are wont to be, when sugared up and overexerted) and couldn't calm down enough to take a nap. She also would not speak to me, just shaking her head and grimacing if I spoke. Instead of letting her wallow and pout, I stroked her back and hair and calmed her down to the point where she was able to settle into a nap.

So, what do these two examples prove? That children respond well to physical touch -- that an embrace or a hand of comfort can speak many volumes more than mere words.
But what about when hands make no impact?
Enter the hands-off approach, requiring significantly more patience.

Keewon got off the bus feeling drowsy and hit another student. He didn't hurt her, but he needed to apologize and that, one top of his already sleepy mood, sent him into a downward spiral that resulted in him sitting and sobbing at a table in the lunchroom. Having just spent the majority of the day proving the hands-on technique, I tried to soothe Keewon by rubbing his back and speaking softly, but I couldn't reach him and he continually whined at my voice. After a while, I explained to him that he could continue sitting quietly, but that I would leave him alone (while keeping an eye on him, of course).
It took him almost half an hour, but he finally got himself under his own control again -- enough to take his hands away from his face. I verbally rewarded him for opening up ("Keewon, I'm so glad I can see your face again! I missed it!") and assured him that he wasn't in trouble, and then he went off to play with the other children as if nothing had happened.

So, why did I bother to relay those stories? Well, two reasons: one, I'm unwinding after a long day and, two, I want to reflect on and share what I've learned today. In trying to improve my teaching skills, I've been reading several books and websites about effective teaching methods and great teachers. Those materials stress flexibility as one of the most amazing tools I can have in my belt -- and I intend to use that tool to its maximum utility. Flexibility makes little difference, though, if you don't have the wisdom to know when to employ it. I'm hoping that frequent reflections will help me to gain that wisdom... and that I can drag you guys along for the ride.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Adjustments.

I found out yesterday I will need to have shoulder surgery. By need, I mean it poses the only real option for enjoying a proper quality of life through the rest of my days. I most likely have a labral tear, something that won't heal on its own and can't be addressed through physical therapy.

I had prepared myself for this possibility even before my first appointment with the orthopedist, so it surprises me how much I need to deal with this.

Much as I may try to downplay it sometimes, I'm still young. In fact, my youth provides a primary justification for the surgery itself: a progressively worsening joint injury shouldn't force someone to sacrifice hobbies and independence at age 25. I can fix this.

The reality is, though, I'll lose the use of my right arm for six weeks after the surgery. After two weeks of total immobilization, followed by four weeks in a sling without lifting it, I will begin physical therapy to regain use of my shoulder. All in all, this seems like a small price to pay to get a significant portion of my life back and stop living in fear of aggravating a new episode of debilitating pain.

Over the past 24 hours I have become acutely aware of how much life revolves around having two arms. Laying in bed last night with my right arm stretched above my head, I though about how much I love my body and try (sometimes not hard enough) to take care of it. I'm still in my years of being young, strong, resilient, beautiful. The thought of being crippled in such a dramatic way for such an extended period of time is so weird. I can't quite get my head around it.

For any able-bodied 20-something, I think this is probably sort of scary. We've probably never had to think about what it would be like to be unable to wash our own hair, dress ourselves, hug our partners with both arms, freely move our arms and legs in rhythm with our feelings.

After I've sorted all this out (I'm giving it a week), it'll be time to look at a calendar and ask myself "when is the best time to lose my right arm for a while?"

What am I doing with my life? Part 3

I am not a person to make plans. I mean, I'm an INFJ and yes I prefer to know where and when I'll be hanging out well in advance, but I don't run my life by plans. I'm a passive person and I like to sort of let things happen to me, things tend to work out like that. Other people seem to have direction and ambition; I just sort of float around. I tend take my life one "chunk" at at time: in high school, I didn't think beyond college. In college, I didn't think beyond moving to Stockholm to be with my boyfriend. Turns out that necessitated a move to Korea, and now that I'm in Korea, I'm trying to figure out what the next chunk is.

I've been dating my boyfriend for a while now, about six years. I definitely want to spend my life with him, I'm not suffering from cold feet. But...I really like Korea. My job here is pretty easy and fun (most of the time), it's very easy to save money, and honestly I like puttering around on my own. Being a grown-up in Korea is surprisingly easy. Additionally, I've made a few friends here that I will miss when I go home. I'd like to have more than one year with them. (It's hard for me to make friends, but once I do, they're really important.) I'm running out of time here in Korea, and the pressing question just becomes even more important: what am I going to do when I go home?

Part of me wants to go back home, work my old job, lose some weight (vanity!), visit my boyfriend, and then come back Korea in 2011. I've taken to Korean culture pretty easily (like a fish to water, or more appropriately, a Russian to vodka). Plus, as a weigukin, I could rock graduate school for an obscenely little amount of money. Not that I've ever been particularly enthusiastic about graduate school, but much like Jaclyn, I feel that as a "smart kid" I'm obligated to collect degrees like Girl Scout badges. At the least, I'd like to take some Korean classes.

At the same time, despite all my fun here, I miss my boyfriend. I know he misses me, too—to be honest, he's probably the one worse off during my contract. And while we've spent most of our relationship on different continents, I feel like one more year in Korea would be an unbearable strain on our relationship.

Unfortunately, he would be hard pressed to get a job here in Korea. You need a four-year degree to teach here, and he never went to university. And there's not much else for white people who don't speak Korean to do here, it's pretty much just teaching or military.

So I have before me: move to Stockholm, stay in Korea. Not counting my love affair with Indonesia, or flights of fantasy I have from time to time, where I spend a year or two just idling around with college friends in a new city back home. There's so much in life to do, it's impossible for me to pick.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

What am I doing with my life? Part II

Graduate school, huh? Huh. Well here's the thing (and yes I overuse that phrase): my husband and a few friends are going to graduate school in the fall. Also, news flash: though I may have ADD and I may not always come off as very "with it," I'm not dumb. Being married to an engineer can make someone with an art degree a little territorial about brains and talent. Joke though we may, we BFAs have plenty of intelligence, we just didn't choose to major in math or science when we went off to school. But I digress.

I feel somewhat entitled to a higher degree, as if being gifted obligates me to earn as many academic achievements as I can. The thing is (see?) I like what I do. I don't want to give up a ton of time and money, cut back my hours at work, not audition for the symphony, and all that just to get a graduate degree in something else I'm not sure about. Because really, who of my close friends can really say I was sure about majoring in painting?

So as I sift through the options (I live in a major city -- there are many) and try to decide between Non-Profit Management, Sociology, Social Work, or Creative Writing & Publication Arts, I wonder: what's the point? What am I trying to accomplish here? Am I honestly just trying to use up my $10K AmeriCorps education award?

I feel like in your 30s you either raise children or find your calling. My hope is I can do both, and not alone. Another secret: introverted me really wants to go through life with a nice little group of friends, chasing (finding? just making up?) our dreams and weaving a crazy extended family. Given these admittedly pretty weird life goals, what do I see myself doing with my education monies and my mid-to-late 20s? Am I working for a performing arts organization? Am I at my current job and auditioning for the symphony? Am I starting a business? Moving to the country and starting an intentional community? Still living in the city, stubbornly raising children there to disprove the naysayers who said "oh, you say you won't, but you'll leave by the time those kids turn two"?

I have this feeling really awesome things are in store for me, I just can't for the life of me figure out what they are. Of course I just need to wait and see, but how much should I be waiting vs. actively moving forward? At what point am I just kidding myself, making believe that there's more to life than this? That I'm going to find something to do every day that's just so RIGHT I can barely contain my joy? Everyday happiness and contentment can make me so complacent, what is it going to take for me to risk upsetting the balance?

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Achievement Gap and the Matthew Paradox

Two days ago, I received some pretty big news: I got into USC's Master's in Teaching program. Woo! The MAT program is something that I only learned about a few months ago, but I've totally fallen in love with the idea: take super-interactive classes online until you're ready to student teach, get your teaching practicum out of the way, and graduate with a master's and a California credential. Of course, it's always super exciting to get into the school of your choice, but I'm even more thrilled about USC's great history as a superb institute for urban education initiatives. My courses will focus on helping me connect with and understand the needs of urban students, the ones most stricken by the achievement gap.

So, in lieu of a "real" post, I thought I'd post one of my application essays, written totally in earnest, about my feelings about the achievement gap and how it ties in to the ages-old Matthew Paradox. As an added bonus, I'll also post a word cloud of the essay... consider it the lite version.

Here's that image (sorry guys, I usually have no problem posting pictures, but this one seems stubborn)

And, here's that essay:
The achievement gap is a perfectly apt illustration of the Matthew Paradox. In the Gospels, Matthew states that “For unto every one that hath shall be given, and he shall have abundance: but from him that hath not shall be taken away even that which he hath.” (Matthew 35:29) That paradox precisely describes the cycle of failure in groups with low socio-economic status. The job of the teacher, then, is to distribute fairly, denying the paradox and ensuring equity.
So often, we find the students with all the advantages given every incentive to learn; they have after school activities, music lessons, and well-educated teachers. Instead of putting our most brilliant educators in the neediest classrooms, we reward our disadvantaged students with the most inexperienced teachers with the least training, the fewest programs. There are three things that we can and must do to close the achievement gap: we must be the best teachers possible, we must offer our students every opportunity to learn, and we absolutely must appeal to our lawmakers to pass necessary reforms.
One of the simplest ways to level the playing field is for great teachers to take work in low-end schools. Working in Compton is much more difficult than working in Beverly Hills, but students demand fairness and find inequity everywhere in depressed areas -- it is the teacher's place to offer equal treatment. Short of moving all good teachers to Compton, though, what other options remain? Teachers in tough schools need to work hard, harder than their peers in high-end communities, to continue improving themselves and keeping abreast of the latest advances in their fields.
Alongside polishing our pedagogical pedigrees, we must work hard to reach out to our students. We need to rely on practical strategies that we can employ daily to reach out to low-income students and their parents. If we are to connect to them on any level, we must begin to understand poverty and our student's lives. We can teach about the history of and current struggles with poverty and workers' rights. We can teach them about Che Guevera, explain the role of labor unions, and champion anti-poverty activism. We can teach them that “low-income” does not have to mean unprivileged and we can never assume that low-income students cannot achieve as much as any wealthier student.
Teachers in high-need areas need to be more flexible than their peers. We need to host extra tutoring sessions whenever students can attend, even if that means sacrificing a Saturday morning. Similarly, we need to involve parents using whatever means available: written notes, phone calls, weekend office hours. We cannot hold back when attempting to break our students free from the cycle of poverty; we owe it to them and to ourselves.
We must never lose sight of the intelligence of our students, understanding that poverty is a social disease, not a diagnosis of personal failure. Above all else, when working to bridge the achievement gap, teachers must not lose sight of their goals: to produce well-rounded, productive adults out of whatever students we receive. Though the Matthew Paradox has defined urban lifestyle for centuries, we can and will overcome the past.

Monday, August 10, 2009

Aspirations, etc

This could be one of those goofy bucket list memes, or it could be serious. You decide.

I've been thinking about what I really want to do in life... beyond just the next few years or today's passing fancy. So, I thought I might list a few goals and let the internet judge me (gently, please!)

1-2 years from now:
  • get married (June 19, 2010... make your plans now!)
  • obtain Master's in teaching + CA credential (sometime around Jan-Feb 2011 )
  • start teaching in a high-need school that I can bike to
3-6 years from now:
  • have a firm grasp on conversational Spanish
  • buy a house
  • start a family (later rather than sooner)
7-15 years from now:
  • own property (not a measly front yard, but 1/2 acre plus)
15-forever from now:
  • start a teaching farm for at-risk/urban/land-phobic young people
There, I've put it into print: I want to be a farmer. I want to be a teacher.
I see no reason that I can't do both. My plan is to start a small organic farm close to a city (Los Angeles..?). Ideally, it would be a mix of many different crops ranging from tomatoes and herbs to fruit trees and flowers. I would invite students to come a few times over the course of the year -- they would help to plant the seeds by hand, later they would help to prune and pull weeds, then a third trip would be a harvest day with fresh produce for a special lunch.

I want to spend the next decade or so honing my education skills and learning about practical farming. Then, I want to get my hands dirty and welcome little ones to learn that tomatoes don't grow out of supermarket bins and that bugs are just another lovely part of our ecosystem.

Comments? Judgments? Let me know -- this extrovert craves feedback!