Just Wondering...

...how do I help someone just "push the easy button"? I can't seem to get through to her that life really doesn't have to be so complicated.

...why do I keep having visions of a sunny beach? Is it because sunshine is the most elusive element outside right now?

...what do I have to do to get over my apprehension toward tests? Fail one?

...when will I finally know where I'm going to be student teaching? It seems as if a lot of other plans revolve around that one. 

...where can I go on spring break to shut my mind off? Completely.

Admissions

All right, I'll admit it: this snow is my fault. I left my Jeep out last night. Without fail, every time I decide to leave my Jeep outside the garage (thinking, oh so naively, that it will be a clear night), it snows. We have six inches already, and it's still snowing heavily. Now, we haven't gone an entire week without snow yet this spring; however, THIS is crazy! The world outside is completely reverted back to January. I am beginning to wonder if I am going crazy. Was the snow ever even melted? Were the green grass and colorful crocuses just a dream? And WHY did I write yesterday's blog ("Just A Dream")? Because I do believe it jinxed spring! Sorry, folks. I've learned my lesson. I'll keep my dreams to myself and my Jeep in the garage.

Was it Just A Dream?

Waking up
To golden streaks on my bedroom wall
Birds singing
Flower-scented air

We walk the neighborhood
Enjoying the laughter of children
Bikes, lawn mowers, rakes, and straw hats
Out from musty winter storage

The sky is blue
So blue I am dizzied by its brilliance
And the sun is warm
So warm the long winter inside me
Begins to melt

We open the garage
And begin to organize
I sort through bags of recyling -
Cardboard, aluminum, paper, plastic -
My life through a recyle bin

We sweep the porch
Brush down wasps' nests
Empty the gutters
Refill bee catchers

We beat the rugs
Vacuum the floor
Wipe down the vehicles
Remove streaks from the windows

Hamburgers on the grill
Jimmy Buffet from the loudspeakers
A whiskey sour in hand
I sit with my love
and watch the sun set over our quickly-greening lawn

My sister joins us
and we chat
We talk of ho-hum things
and mysteries beyond our knowledge

Sunshine has moved
from the atmosphere
into my heart
I am happy
I am sunburnt
THIS was a spring day
Or was it just a dream?

Memory Shelf

Last night I stopped in at my dad's house to pick up a couple children's books for one of my classes. As I looked over the shelf of choices, memories spilled over me. Memories of reading these books, alone and with my siblings, sprawled on the couch or curled up in one of my hideouts. These were the books that introduced me to the literary world. Just running my fingers over their well-worn titles, I could recall the images, the stories, and all the emotions that accompanied the time spent reading them. I did not find the books I was looking for (a series which somehow all NINE of my siblings still remember fondly!), but I did find several other books which hold significant memories for me in their yellowed pages.

By the way, if any of you are looking for an awesome children's book series, the "Woodland Folk" by Tony Wolf is my hands-down childhood favorite. You can check out some of the illustrations from the books at http://knittingiris.typepad.com/knitting_iris/2007/01/woodland_folk_b.html. I can't wait to track down our family's old series, wherever they are, and get lost in their magic!

Welcome to Alaska

One of the Spinoff activities I did with my sister for this class was to write a timeline of our lives, then look for the major transitions and choose one to "explode." For lack of inspiration in regards to today's blog, I'm just going to include my "exploded moment" (arriving in Alaska for the first time):

“Prepare for landing.” I slip off my headphones and stash them in my purse. My stomach flip flops as I peer out the tiny plane window in an attempt to discern the scenery below. Multi-hued lines of blue are quickly taking formation, revealing mountains and lakes pushed up against each other by glistening glaciers. The plane touches down with a grinding lurch. I’m here. “Welcome to Alaska,” the man next to me smiles. “You’ll love this land. I guarantee it.” The lack of doubt in his voice strikes me anew. I have spent the plane ride from Seattle talking to the native Alaskans around me who are returning home after their winter respite in warmer regions. They are at once genuinely welcoming and remotely defensive, as if they desperately want you to love Alaska like they do. Living in Alaska is a choice. These people wear the choice on their faces, deep grooves worn by years of fighting the harsh environment. They reflect the choice in their eyes, wells of determination and experience. I have not even set foot on Alaskan soil, but I already feel its wild power rushing through my body. It is time to experience the Great Land.

Where is Spring?

My last sight of the outdoors before dark closed in was of snow playing with the wind. So guess what I dreamed of? Snow. In the morning, snow was covering the kitchen countertops, drifting in fluffy patterns over every object left out from the night before. "What is THIS?" I yelled at my husband. "Isn't this what we have a roof for? To keep the SNOW out?" He was dressed in his winter gear - hat, gloves, and all. Smiling from ear to ear (he loves snow!) and shoveling - shoveling! - paths through our house. "Well, sometimes this happens," he explained as if it were the most reasonable occurrence in the world, "It happens when there's too much condensation in the air." You've got to be kidding me! I kept looking up at the roof, as if I expected to find the traitor holes that had let the snow in. "Where am I going to put all this snow?" I started crying. And woke up. Thank God that was just a dream. But obviously there's some processing going on here. WHERE IS SPRING?

Only Ten Minutes

With only 10 minutes, you could...
     ...do one set from a Pilates workout DVD.
     ...play fetch with your dog.
     ...sweep the kitchen floor.
     ...write a "thinking of you" card to a friend.
     ...fold a load of laundry.

Or, with only 10 minutes, you could...
     ...skydive from 12,500 feet.
     ...rappell down a 300-foot cliff.
     ...climb a W.3 ice fall.

Or, with only 10 minutes, you could just post an entry on BlogSpot!

Randomness

Twirling, tapping, pointing, floating... Amy and I are watching the varied choreographies at DanceFest. I am impressed, but not inspired to take up dancing again myself. When I see the Scottish Highland dancers on stage, I can remember every step, feel the swish of the kilt and the lift of the leg - but I don't want to be a Scottish Highland dancer again. That was a time, a past time.

Talking, laughing, questioning, screeching - I'm trying to help Amy with her advanced grammar lesson. I tell her one thing, and her computer program says something else. Once upon a time I knew all these terms. Why can't I remember what a dangling participle is? What's more, how applicable is this knowledge?

Clanging, banging, potting, plating - my husband is cooking dinner. Barbecued steak, no less. The smell makes me long for summertime. There are still patches of snow on our lawn from where it snowed this morning. I want to go somewhere warm, somewhere sunny, and sleep... and sleep...

My Own Interpretations

Have you heard of TLA's? It's the language we increasingly speak in, the longer we are involved with any given field and the more experienced we become with terms. TLA stands for three-letter acronyms, like ABE (Adult Basic Education). It refers to the host of acronyms that accompanies any given field. For this blog entry, I'm going to amuse myself by making up my very own interpretations for special education TLA's.

IEP (formerly Individualized Education Plan) - Information Excess Problem. The situation in which you are bombarded by way more information than you can possibly take in. In other words, school.

RTI (formerly Response to Intervention) - Really Tremendous Indifference. The state of mind you entertain toward any form of studying, homework, or assignments by the end of the semester - or right after a mid-term break, for that matter.

LRE (formerly Least Restrictive Environment) - Least Renewed Energy. The personal label that sets you apart from other students at your college who actually GOT a spring break.

BIP (formerly Behavior Intervention Plan) - Behaving Irrationally Periodically.  The behavior condition which seems to plague you more and more frequently as the semester wears on... and on...

APE (formerly Adapted Physical Education) - Already Past Estimation.  The hours you have spent staring at a computer screen in order to complete your online classes.

This blog entry is dedicated to students who can understand the paradoxical challenges we take on to earn a way-too-important piece of paper (i.e., college degree).

School

At this point in the semester (and my degree), I feel as if I'm only doing school to get to an endpoint. I anticipate the point in the week where my assignments are all done, and the point in the year where I have a few days off. I wish I could maintain a more consistent motivation toward school. It seems to be caught somewhere between the stacks of textbooks, computer folders, online discussion boards, and Praxis tests. While on our daily walk this morning, my little sister Amy and I got to talking about school. I don't know how the NCLB Act came up, but it did; and I got on a roll. From standardized testing to inclusion practices to content standards, I covered it all - and then some. We were still talking half an hour after getting back home. Amy got almost as impassioned as I when I mentioned the things that are going on in Idaho education/educational politics right now. "What can I DO?" she asks. Her willing enthusiasm makes me smile. What CAN we do? I am not yet a teacher. So what I can do is buckle down and finish out this education which will certify me for being a teacher, for doing what I can to improve the future of our educational system. 

Silly Doggy

Since Day 1, my dog Kona and I have had a challenging relationship. I drove the truck and my husband held Kona when we took him home at seven-and-a-half weeks. He whined the whole way. That night, in his new kennel with a fuzzy blanket and stuffed animal, he let loose noises like I have never heard. The closest I could say is a mix between a cat whose tail is caught under a rocking chair, a hyena trying to swallow an alligator, and a siren flooded with water. The whining - and the "special" crying - didn't stop once Kona got accustomed to his new home. He seemed to take pleasure in voicing himself every time he was exposed to a new element or situation. For months, he would suddenly start barking growling and barking at some random item in our house that had been there before him but that he finally noticed.

I've never had an inside dog, so I've really had to adjust to the noises, smells, dog hair, and accommodations which naturally come with a dog being part of the family. It hasn't been easy. Kona, as a chocolate lab, requires constant supervision. Only in the past few weeks have I been able to leave him alone for a few minutes without worrying that he will consume the kitchen baseboard or the contents of the washroom trashcan. So far - knock on wood - we haven't lost anything to his strong chewing tendencies. (A small miracle, I suppose, if you're familiar with the story "Marley and Me"!) 

Kona will continue to be a challenge. But I don't know if I'd want it any other way. He makes us laugh. He loves to chase his tail in figure-eights around our legs, howl along with my little sister when she plays her accordion, and race crazily around the livingroom with his rear end tucked under and his ears back. He's the only dog I've ever met that doesn't like riding in the car - when he thinks he has to go with us, he runs into his kennel and stands quietly peeking out, as if we can't see him. Yesterday, I looked outside to find him standing on the edge of the deck, just checking out the world:

When my little sister Amy goes outside to call Kona in, he will run behind a tree and stand there as if he thinks she can't see him:

Thank heaven for dogs. Sometimes they are far more enjoyable than people.

Living Color

I love color. I love the color that appears in nature, the brilliant blue of the sky and the crystal green of a mountain lake. I love the color that appears in food, the rich blush of a pepper and the smooth yellow of a banana. I love the color that appears in clothing, the vibrant strands of an Indian weave and the flaming red of a Spanish skirt. But most of all, I love the color that appears in humanity, the flush of pink that accompanies surprise and the glow of golden life shining from someone's eyes.

Here are just a few snapshots I've taken lately of the color around my home...

Taking A Break

Does anyone else find it difficult to take a break? I was raised with the mindset that time is for productivity. Sitting about and relaxing is not productive, therefore should be engaged in as little as possible. Thankfully, I've been able to learn that sitting around and relaxing is not only productive, but is also necessary at times. Sometimes you've just gotta take a break. Unfortunately, I still haven't figured out how to let my mind take a break. It's always racing along to the next thing I have to do, the last thing I learned, the situations and people around me. I've tried meditation - and fall asleep. I've tried running - and just think about other things. So now I'm trying just "letting it go" and giving myself a break. Self-talk: "I've done the best I can. That's all for now." Problem is, "try" is an operative word, and I need to stop operating. Hmmm...

Bubble Tea

Do you know what a "small joy" is? It's the little glimpse of heaven's sunshine filtering through life's tasks. It's the "something" that gives you a little hiccup of happiness when you least expect it. Like bubble tea. Bubble tea is a traditional Vietnamese sweet drink, made with large tapioca pearls and various ice- or cream- based flavors. I first tried bubble tea when I visited New York City in 2005. I loved it. Let's just say it's one of the most fun experiences you can have with a beverage. I had my fair share of bubble tea experiences while living in the NoVA/DC area. It was the first thing I went for when going "back east" to visit. This area of the country isn't as diverse, so I was absolutely amazed when I saw a BUBBLE TEA! sign on the corner of Trent and Sullivan in Spokane. Seriously? Yep, now it's my weekly tradition to stop by Lalozy's coffee stand when driving my little sis to Spokane. We chat with the adorable Vietnamese couple who run the shop and drive away with smiles, content that even here in our little corner of the country we can experience a taste of another culture. Small joy, but not insignificant. 

Good Teacher

This morning I was thinking about a particular teacher who should not be a teacher. There, I said it. Who am I to toss that judgment out against someone else? Well, for one, I was his student. I was affected by his absolute disregard for students' needs and learning constraints. Secondly, I was his evaluator. I knew that no active learning was going on his class.

So what kind of person should be a teacher? The kind of person who I was fortunate enough to have for two separate classes. This woman was incredible. She connected with her students. She showed, through her instruction and her interactions, that she cared about each student as a person and as a learner. She found a way to get through to every student on a level that made sense to them. She observed her class for comprehension and modified her teaching to ensure comprehension. She made things make sense. She was human - she shared her own stories and thoughts with genuine ease. She made us love her. She created breakthroughs for her students. She gave us confidence in ourselves, confidence in areas we had never before experienced. She showed us how to make sense of our own learning process. She helped us to enjoy not only our time in her classroom, but also the time we spent studying a subject that most of us feared. She inspired us. 

I will always be grateful for having been a student in this woman's classroom. She is an outstanding example of a teacher, but also as a person who positively impacts the lives around her. 

Perspective

Lately I've been pretty down. Blame it on the grey weather (snow has once again covered our landscape up here!), blame it on the endless online assignments, blame it on alternating bouts of sickness and health... I just feel as if, no matter how hard I try, I can't pull myself out of a low-grade "muck." Reading, when I make the time for it, has been a welcome escape. And also provided much-needed perspective. The books I've read - Kabul Beauty School and A Thousand Splendid Suns - have reminded me of the enormously privileged life I have here in the United States. Here I am, 26 years old and able to pursue just about any path I choose, while in a certain war-torn part of the world, women my same age are imprisoned for daring to speak or to dream. I wake up wondering what decisions will be the most beneficial, whereas these global sisters of mine wake up wondering if they will make it through the day. I am enveloped in the love of a devoted husband, while most of these women suffer through endless abuse. Compared to many of my American peers, my life has been "harder" and filled with more challenges. But up against the lives of Afghan peers, mine is one of luxury. I am chastened to think that I can sit here bemoaning the fact that I am not mentally stimulated enough from my studies, when women all around the world are still not allowed to pursue their education or develop their potential.

There is no conclusion to my thoughts this morning. I have to say, though, that I have been given a restored perspective of my place here in this world; and I aim to take advantage of the opportunities I have so fortunately been given with a more grateful heart.

NCAA Bracket

UCONN won the NCAA Championship game last night. Good on them, because I selected them for my bracket. Making a straight tie between my husband and I for the entire March Madness experience. This is the first year I've ever filled out an NCAA bracket. I didn't even watch sports on TV before marrying my sports-fan husband. But I've found a distinct kind of pleasure in learning to follow sports in their relative seasons, even on my limited level. I actually know now what "Elite Eight" is referring to. I know that "line of scrimmage" doesn't mean a domestic argument, and that "on-deck" isn't just a marine term. When I see people wearing sports regalia, I can distinguish between names of basketball, baseball, and football teams. I can at least pretend to have a knowledge about the latest sports upsets and victories. (Just don't press for details!) 

This "sports talk" is new to me. I've never been a product of my generation. I can't name artists or actors, politicians or comedians. My knowledge of pop culture is severely limited. Part of this is due to choice, part due to obstinance, and part due to being raised in a very conservative family. Sometimes I have found this limited knowledge of pop culture places me on the outer edge of social interactions. (It's amazing to me how being able to quote movie lines and discuss the latest Hollywood gossip can get you right into the middle of a conversation!) Since I don't come by this knowledge from experience, I would have to gain it through conscious exposure. And yet, it must just not matter enough to me; because I'm still pretty clueless.

Thoughts on Writing

I finally finished reading Jane Yolen's Take Joy: A Book for Writers. I'd recommend it to anyone who pursues the art of writing. Some of Yolen's thoughts:

"Literature is a textual act between consenting individuals."

"Sacred in story has to do with that moment you are reading and suddenly the hairs on your arms and the back of your neck rise up. The moment when you and the story ascend a level of humanity and touch the very hem of heaven."

"We write not just to show off, to tell, or only to have written. We write to know ourselves."

Writing has helped me to know myself better my entire life, but lately it's helped me to know things I didn't before even consider as part of me. Some of which aren't so welcome. Like the fact that I often sacrifice the unfolding of creativity to the restraint of time. Or the fact that I sometimes measure a day's worth by whether anything occurs that is interesting enough to record. I'm curious how my fellow classmates have come to know themselves through their writing this semester?  

I'll Never

We've all heard the phrase "Never say never!" But don't we each have certain things we KNOW we'll never really do? I'll never...
* pierce my bellybutton. Doesn't it hurt?
* be a professional tennis player. Coordination isn't my strong suit.
* own 10 cats. I don't even own one.
* base jump from the Eiffel Tower. But maybe another structure?
* wear chain mail. It looks heavy.
* hate my family. They're family!
* deny love. To do so is to deny breath to the soul.