unwritten

In the grand tradition of graduation songs, the kids' song is extremely corny, and made all the more corny by the choreographed hand motions... I've been overwrought and under-slept with increasing severity as my intensive summer grad class wears on. (5 to 10pm twice a week for four weeks.) So I know this is what's at the root of my weepiness and hyper-sentimentality this week.

But as the kids' graduation gets closer and closer, something about their boisterous enthusiasm, their slightly off-key but extremely earnest belting strikes closer and closer to my heart. We told the kids they had to smile during the happy songs, and S-- seems to have taken it as his personal mission in life to smile the hardest he possibly can for the entirety of the song. His face is contorted, it's almost more of a grimace. But it is so prototypically S-- of him, he is so unselfconscious and innocent and wacky, I get choked up when look at him, even though he does it every single time. It is like he is trying to emote the song through his body, rather than singing it with his voice.

(S-- is pretty unforgettable. He is a tiny kid with a gravelly voice and a lisp, one of these kids that is just a constant hurricane of movement and energy, always falling out of chairs because he sits with his legs gnarled up behind him in seemingly impossible gestures. He is clumsy and uncoordinated, always tripping or walking into things or knocking things over ... His hair is always slicked down sideways on his head, his glasses are always falling down his nose. He talks a mile a minute and never runs out of things to say, and perpetually has some kind of snack food either in his mouth or his hands or on his shirt.)

As a teacher, especially an all-day every-day elementary school teacher, you know kids in a deep, yet in some ways strangely superficial way that is unlike any other human relationship in existence. Looking around at all their faces as they sing their song is just such a window into who they are, now that I know them inside and out. I see I-- with his big goofy smile, eyes wandering around the room, only aware in the very vaguest of sense of what is going on around him. B-- is staring intently at Rosie's conducting, ramrod straight, hands at her sides, and diligently making a note of every instruction we give and carrying out all orders efficiently, silently, obediently. K-- is surreptitiously making eyes at the boys off to her right, whispering secrets that are doubtless of critical importance to her best friend seated a row in front of her, trying her best to evade the steely gaze of the teachers. D-- just singing with his heart and soul.

I'm going to miss them so much. Because after they leave P.S. OO it's entirely possible that I will never see some of them again... these people, who have been at the center of my life for ten months, who I have worried and fretted over and who have made me overflow with pride as much as they've filled me with blind, white-hot rage... I just won't see them anymore. Maybe in passing, maybe out in the neighborhood, maybe they'll come by and say hi or write me an email. But there will be a clean cut. On June 28 this cast of characters will simply be removed from my life. It's a bizarre break. Just the nature of teaching, I guess, spread your wings and fly and all that. But it's a little jarring nonetheless.

The graduation song (best enjoyed if you imagine it sung at top volume by a motley collection of pre-adoloscents all lined up in the auditorium in captivity, wearing red ties and name tags):

Unwritten - Natasha Bedingfield

I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Oh, oh, oh

I break tradition, sometimes my tries, are outside the lines
We've been conditioned to not make mistakes, but I can't live that way


Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten

tag teaming

Once again, my matchless friends come to the rescue.

Today, the first clerical half day, I found myself cankle-deep in unfinished cumulative records and other paperwork that had to be finished TOday, only up the the D's in alphabetical order, with time ticking down before I had to leave before my (5-hour) class.

"I think I'm in trouble," I said to Henrietta as I passed her in the hallway.

And, minutes later, no questions asked, she, Corky and Rosie were assembly-lining through my stack of folders like they were on a mission. Even though they had spent the entire afternoon on their own tedious paperwork (just at a more efficient rate)... In no time, the deed was done. I was stacked, sorted, alphabetized and color-coded, and had just enough time to print my paper and make the train up to Harlem.

I wonder when I might get to a point in my career when I don't have to be bailed out with some time-sensitve, overwhelming task that has me totally marooned... but until then, I am absolutely wordlessly, bottomlessly, inexpressibly grateful for what they did, and what I know they would be willing to do for any one of us, any number of times should the need arise.

next?

The thing that's different about teaching from other jobs is how cyclical it is. There are distinct starting points and end points, and every year there is an opportunity to reinvent yourself.

I keep thinking, "What's next?" There's the cruise then carnival then half day then International Day then graduation... then what?

Then a long delicious expanse of getting to be someone else for a while. And by someone else, I mean me, unfettered by my responsibilities, my 28 ball and chains. I get to be *not* Ms. D for a while. And I think that break will do me good.

The Organization Sheet came out yesterday... Next year I'll be teaching the same grade in the same room, which is great for me because I don't have to pack up my entire classroom and move it down the hall, which I've had to do the past two years now. Only difference is the big bold "Vacancy" next t room 317 where Corky would've been. That and, my roster will be up to 32 kids. Don't even know where I will fit four extra bodies!

letter from a past self about wild geese

Wild Geese

by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

*****

Dear Self,

You don't have to be good.

You don't have to repent and crawl on your knees.

You don't have to apologize for who you are...

Please don't punish yourself...

Love what you love, trust your instincts.

We are all just human animals.

Tell people what they give to you. Let them know they will be missed.

Bear change gracefully, like the seasons. The wild geese will return. You will find love again, and friendship. You can do it on your own - you always have. Persist. Persistence has paid off manyfold. The most important thing about humans and animals is that they are adaptable. Be brave. Adapt with grace. Make the most of what you have -- you are lucky in that you'll never be alone. Follow the road as it stretches out before you.

finding happiness in a six-foot sub

Of the things I have learned this year, one is that exercise makes me a more productive person... I realize that, somehow, in some way I don't fully understand, if I can make to to the gym or the track first thing in the morning, or if I go on my way home from school before I do anything else, I can accomplish all sorts of important things afterwards that guaranteed would have been pushed under the rug and procrastinated away if I hadn't gone... Good job, me! Perhaps there is hope of becoming a functional human being after all...

I am very excited and happy about my Summer Potluck Picnic/BBQ this weekend. I just ordered a six-foot sub and bought five cases of beer, and this makes me very happy. I am excited to make use of the backyard! I'm excited to prove to myself that, if you think of ways to make yourself happier, and then take steps towards making those things happen, you actually *get* happier!

Exhibit A: my apartment with lovely roommates and natural light and a backyard for barbecuing in a neighborhood where friends are easy to access. (Compare to sad, lonely apartment of last year)

Exhibit B: Fifth grade is awesome. (Compare to grueling hardship of first grade.)

Exhibit C: My new computer is awesome. (Certain happinesses can be bought, especially when they replace frustration and low-grade but persistent rage, as induced by my ancient crazy-making PC)

Exhibit D: Visiting Corky next summer, ALL summer, wherever she ends up, will help me to miss her less.

Score point? Personal happiness: plus four. Anxiety trepidation and doubt: plus zero.

You hear that, life!? I'ma figure you out one of these days!

My smart Twister (twin sister) taught me about the arrival fallacy.

You will never arrive. The destination is a mirage. This, right now, is all you get. Distant Eden will not appear around the corner if you strive harder or wish for it more. Your surroundings will never transform suddenly of their own accord into some sort of utopian dream. No matter what you do to them, even if you are very very patient. The transformation happens from within...

That's what they mean when they say happiness is a choice. You can decide to see the good around you, to appreciate whatever there is to appreciate and just love the bejeezus out of everything you can possibly find to love. Or you can live a life with less love and less good and less light in it. Those are the only choices you get - Believe in the good and let it in. Or refuse to see it and do without.

These musings were inspired by the letter I got from Escape, the "grassroots" Inner Resilience founded by Corky that she holds at her apartment with all the essential elements, plus wine!

We did an exercise where you write about a person or other entity in your life, and you think about what you have received from them (or it), what you have given to them (or it), and what difficulties or troubles you are having with it or them.

It turns out, Corky and I both wrote about each other. Both of us thought we received much more in our relationship than we gave. Which I guess is how you know a friendship is really strong... kind of like synergy, though I know everyone hates the word... we are complements to each other, and simply by being who we are in each other's presence, we make each other better people.

Not a bad deal. Pretty special. in fact.

This just in...

A+ on my thesis!

Validation feels great.

Speaking of validation...

Today was also the carnival (of Test Prep Jedi fame.) The carnival itself was not my inspiration, but it probably did result, at least in part, out of my instigation...

So, kiddies, suck up those snowcones and pop that popcorn, delve face-first into your clouds of cotton candy. Bounce high, high HIGH in that bouncy castle, win games and prizes, dance to the DJ and observe, in awe, the juggler. Be amazed. And don't think this isn't advice for life...

Dance and be amazed. Take in the sweetness when it is available. Bounce high and higher, keep trying til you win the Big Game, learn how to beat the odds and then enjoy the rewards you reap. Observe the world around you with awe.

Maybe life won't always be unlimited treats in the enclosed courtyard under the watchful eye of your devoted teachers. But pretend that it is.

Fighting Violets

Field trip to NYU today, did the tour, it was very good! Maybe it's early to have them think about college, but maybe not. In fact, I think it's only fair -- kids in other schools (read:wealthier ones) have a lot more exposure to college, they know more college-educated people and professionals. I think it's beneficial for them to know it exists, know what it looks like and what you do there, why people decide to go to college and also how you get there.

These last two ideas are slightly delicate because I don't want to seem like one of those college pusher-people, or inadvertently send the message that you're a failure if you don't go to college, because I don't believe it's true. The fact is, many of the kids' family members and loved ones have never been nor are likely to ever go to college... A college degree to me is not necessarily a criterion of a successful life. But I want the kids to know what their options are, and I want them to have options, as many as they want or need.

Part of me felt guilty taking them to see one of the most expensive schools in the U.S., knowing first-hand how hard it is to afford it. But another part of me thought, you know what? They deserve the best, and they deserve to know the quality of schools that are out there. The whethers and hows and how much's are for later.

For now, on the hot, sweaty, bumpy bus ride home, it was enough for me to overhear two kids say: "I'm going to NYU when I'm in college." And the other responded "Me too!"

A seed has been planted. The rest is up to the universe.