Sabbatical

So I've been gone awhile. Anyone out there in the education industry will understand when I blame it on the fact that it's because we're so close to Christmas break and there's been a full moon growing. Add to that that my kids are waiting on bated breath to find out if they've accumulated the grades and the behavior modification points that they need in order to be released from our program, and you perhaps begin to understand the enormity of emotional resources that are used just to get through the work day. (Luckily, it's a passing thing, or I would be in the wrong line of work!) Some of the kids are itching to go back to their home school, some of them are dreading it. In both instances, when taken to extremes, the kids fuck up. Either they get lazy because they think they are home free or they do something ultra stupid and get suspended. The kids that really want to leave bust their butt to get their academics on track at the last minute and the kids that want to stay lose their behavior mod points and are held back for behavior. (For instance, I recently had to break up a girl fight. Real fun. But easier when you know that one of the girls really doesn't want to go back to her home school but that her mother is not going to allow her to stay in our program until she feels she's ready. This is makes it a totally different kind of fight. Both the girls are now suspended and not allowed to return until January. They will remain in our program for a minimum of nine weeks. Perhaps they will be ready to return then. Academics academics is not the primary factor in determining our kids' release dates because we are first and foremost a behavior modification program that is provided to the county by the Board of Ed. It's a pretty cool concept, I think. And it releases us from a lot of the petty administrative bullshit that occurs in larger environments. Forty kids, five teachers, a parapro and a principal. And we're defining the program as we grow. But back to the kids that don't want to leave, we don't make them. But it's either the kid or the parent that is against the idea of staying in an alternative setting. Alternative has a bad connotation. Some of those assumptions are correct, but they fail to shine light on all the positive. Smaller class sizes, structured and enforced behavioral expectations (consistency), individualized instruction, community service built into curriculum, freedom to try anything and see what works. These kids never know what kind of assignment I'm gonna throw their way next. Right now I have a class writing and illustrating their own comic books for a competition sponsored by Dark Horse Comics and developed through Teachers College at Columbia University. It rocks. For anyone interested in checking it out - it can be used in science curriculum too - it's at www.thecomicbookproject.org. The site also has a link to Columbia's awesome music technology program for schools. My principal has put me in charge of making that work at our school for our kids. Even okayed moolah for the equipment. (A note to my friend Nappy, if he's reading, be prepared. I'm gonna be picking your brain on this one.) The point is, alternative has a bad connotation. I mention where I work and most people say, "I'm sorry." I always tell them that I'm not. I love my kids, they challenge me in many ways. And I only really want to slap them silly a few times a day. So anyway, I may have taken a sabbatical from this blog, but I assure you I've been around in spirit. Here's to more posting soon.

A Few Thoughts on Getting Old

The first sign of impending old agedom, I believe, was when I truly became giddy over the acquisition of my first washer and dryer. I definitely think appreciation of large household appliances comes with age. As does the need for sleep. Yes, if anyone out there's listening, I confess, the "all-nighter" is not something I am capable of doing well anymore. With Tinker's visit, my kitchen was turned into an alchemist's laboratory and I was the lab rat. As all of the products were made of natural ingredients, I was a confused lab rat. I slather this on my face? Are you sure I don't eat it? Alas, as three o'clock in the morning rolled around I was grateful for the oatmeal face mask that was hardened on my face, as it was the only thing keeping my eyes open. As we wrapped up and put everything in nifty little matching jars, I introduced Tinker to the joys of the label machine. With the clock ticking in time with Tinker's fingers on the label maker, the plethora of concoctions was named. "Don't fall asleep," I was instructed. "I'm not," I heard a voice reply. Then I was awakened two hours later to my obnoxious alarm clock. Tinker, busy little fairy that he is, had decorations to put up for Christmas and wanted to get an early start. I, on the other hand, was useless all day. But I am alive. And I still have a face. So all is well with the world.

My Friend Tinker

Tinker is visiting tonight.Tinker, to put it succinctly, is a cross between good old Tinkerbell and the deliciously sinister Meleficent. He is delightfully creative and caustically cantankerous. Tinker is tinker because he tinkers with everything. Whether the amulet on his neck or the knick-knacks on the shelf. It reaches near OCD proportions when you are with him for any leangth of time. Everything around you will always stay arranged "just so." His current project is concocting a line of bath and beauty products. I shit you not. He is in the kitchen now grinding up rosehips and lavendar buds and combining various emullients for a facial toner. I get to be the guinea pig. If you don't hear from me soon, well, it's sure been a pleasure knowin' ya.

Julia Sugarbaker Watch Out

I'm about to hiost my ass upon a pedestal and shout for a minute. There is an outbreak of cholera in Zimbabwe. We've only had the vaccination for it for how may years? How is it possible that anyone anywhere should be dying of it? I understand the dumbass nationalistic politics, but I also understand that the pharmaceutical companies that make these vaccines rake in billions of dollars a year in profit. Why not cut the CEO's yearly bonus by two million and save a small country?

Bye Bye Be Gone

I'm listening to rap music. Yeah, I said it. There are some really great beats out there. I have a friend that serves as my translator, as my old sancimonious ears can't easily understand that glorious noise that passes so often for vocals.Unfortunately you have to wade through some pretty lazy lyrics to find the gems.

At every stage in my life I've had my music gurus. I've even been blessed enough to have musicians for roommates every time I shared a place. There's nothing like waking up to a guitar in the morning or hearing a hummed rhythm blossom into words. All of these roommates poured music into the air like it was the very oxygen they needed to breathe. Living with a musician compels a new understanding of mood music. Rhythms and levels of intensity, flavored with a narrative structure, this is the music of our lives. Songs are snapshots.

Breakin the Rules

Even God took a day off, folks.

What was I thinking that I'd have something worthwhile to say every day? Do you know how hard that is? I mean, holy shit! Can you imagine how difficult it would be to say something meaningful to someone every day? I'm not talking the basic conveyence of information, or the social nicities we perform hundreds of times daily, as part of our jobs and in our role as people in society. I'm talking about real, honest to goodness true, worthwhile genuine communication? Meaningful exchange of ideas? Are the conversations we engage in worthwhile?

I think most of us would want to answer yes, but I think it's also true that to some extent, we have become too busy. This is just an excuse, own up to it. I think sometimes we're just lazy. Don't get me wrong, this applies to me too. And I stand up right here and now and declare that it is a divine right to be lazy every once and awhile.

I Refuse to Talk About Work

I love my work. Someday, I'll talk about it. Right now...... I'm still processing. I'll at least tell you what I do, in case we haven't chatted in awhile: I am a teacher at an alternative school for at-risk students. Our primary task is behavior modification. We're basically the last step before youth detention and, statistically, further imprisonment. I love my kids. They simply don't have the same value system that I have, so it's challenging. But I don't want to talk about work. Really.

That's all I got. The chirrun done worn me out.