This is My December

Linkin Park

 

 

 

 

 

Welcome, Christmas, bring your cheer!

Cheer to all Whos far and near.

Christmas Day is in our grasp

(so long as we have hands to clasp!)

Christmas Day will always be

just as long as we have we.

Welcome Christmas while we stand,

heart to heart and hand in hand.

-How the Grinch Stole Christmas; Dr. Seuss

It's Friday, I'm in Love

The Cure 

Me: Okay, bonus question! Who is on the ten dollar bill? I'll give you a hint; it's not a former president!
Jesse: Roosevelt!
Me: Um...no. Again, not a president.
Jesse: I know! I said Roosevelt!
Me: Roosevelt was a president. Two different Roosevelts, actually.
Luis: Denzel Washington?
Me:...

Your World Is What You Make It

"Through Being Cool," Saves the Day


My 6th period class this year is quirky and different. Inquisitive and impatient. Funny and bright. It took us a little while to get to where we are, and we still have work to do, but they crack me up all the time. We're currently reading Lord of the Flies; we're finishing on Friday. A few memorable clips from our recent discussions: 

Me: Yes! Good! Piggy represents knowledge and insight. And then, ultimately, what happens to him?
Austin: They kill him. So...it's like they're killing knowledge and insight!  
Me: Exactly! And, if you read his death scene again, it's actually also somewhat literal. In the third paragraph of page 178, Golding writes, "His head opened and stuff came out."
Summer: Sick.
Me: I know, it's gross. And sad. But think about what it represents...
Juan: The knowledge is gone. Like, it actually fell out.
Kyle: So, I guess you could say Piggy lost his mind. I mean, really.

*          *         *          *          *

Kyle: Didn't you say there are like 30 boys on the island?
Me: Yes.
Kyle: Then how does just one pig feed all of them? And they even have food leftover.
Me: Well, the pig they killed isn't a little pink pig like Wilbur. We're talking a big huge pig...a wild boar...like Pumbaa. 
Amy: Awww.
Me: Yeah. Sorry.  
Caleb: Um, Pumbaa was a warthog.
Me: Whatever. I'm using it as a size comparison. 
Amy: Timon was a meerkat.
Kyle: What is the difference between a wild boar and a warthog?
Me: I actually have no idea. Probably not much. At least in terms of size. Okay, let's keeping reading.

*          *         *          *          *

Me: What do you think? Would this really happen if a group of boys were stranded on a deserted island?
Logan: I don't think so. I don't think people would actually get that violent. It might get a little crazy, but no one would get killed.
Austin: I think people would die. I mean, think about how annoying some people get.
Me: True, but are the boys that are killed in Lord of the Flies killed because they are annoying?
Justin: No...they're killed because some of the boys are savages. They aren't following the rules Ralph set up.
Me: Right. Ralph tried to set up a democracy. It didn't really work out that well...the rules and procedures he tried to set up aren't being followed.
Austin: That's because democracy is stupid. People need dictators. Fascism is the way to go...that's what we should have here.

Mountains and Oceans and Winters and Rivers and Stars

"Funny the Way it Is," Dave Matthews Band

Call it a clan, 

call it a network, 

call it a tribe, 

call it a family.  

Whatever you call it, 

whoever you are, 

you need one.  

~Jane Howard

"Your first Thanksgiving as a married couple! Choices, choices...did you spend it with his parents or with your parents?" 

I was asked this question Tuesday, back to school from a long and relaxing break. My response was quick, somewhat robotic, halted: "Actually, both...We were in Santa Barbara with my family, and his family came up." Really, it was a half-truth: Yes, we were in Santa Barbara, but it wasn't all of Tim's parents that came up, but rather his dad and step-mom. His mom and step-dad weren't there. And my dad wasn't there. And my answer left me questioning why I answered the way I did. Was it too much of a hassle to explain the entire scenario, or was I ashamed? Was I embarrassed to admit both my and Tim's lives, from a glance, are far from Leave it To Beaver; intertwined with step-families and sometimes heart-breaking choices regarding where to spend holidays? Was I frustrated by my inability to answer the aforementioned question with a simple "my parents' house" or "his parent's house?" because our families' lives just don't fit into a quick and simple response? It was a question I thought about at multiple junctures throughout the rest of the day, and a variety of potential answers and excuses arose. But through all of it, my mind was nagged by a consistent and real truth: While Tim and I, technically, are  "products of divorce," the phrase hardly covers the way I define my upbringing and my family. My mom and dad are incredible people; unique, undefinable, supportive, passionate. With the exception of a few (unavoidable) frustration-filled and angst-ridden years in high school, I have always held both of my parents in the highest regard. They've been my biggest fans and my staunchest supporters for as long as I can remember. Together or apart, they put their differences aside in the name of my brother and I. Meanwhile, my step-dad entered my life once I was out of high school. At 19, I was a full-time know-it-all and constant-questioner-of-authority, and my poor step-dad had his work cut out for him when it came to forging a relationship with me. And yet, he steadfastly held to the notion my mother was a package deal; in order to find true happiness with her, his relationships with both my brother and I needed to be truthful, full, and independent of her. Because of that, our connection is positive, meaningful, and real today.


And so this Thanksgiving, while of course I'm thankful for Tim, his family, our friends, our health, our dog, and our happiness in general, I'm especially thankful for:


My dad and my brother, who manage to make me laugh, challenge my wit, and drive me crazy; sometimes all at once:

My mom and my step-dad, who taught (continue to) teach me what it takes to build a friendship and a love into a marriage and a life: 

And my step-sisters and step-brother, who have showed me siblings don't have to be blood-related:

The family - that dear octopus from whose tentacles we never quite escape, nor, in our inmost hearts, ever quite wish to.   

~Dodie Smith

My Soul is Sound When I'm in My Hometown

"My Town," Buck-O-Nine

Thanksgiving Break is officially here. We're heading to my dad's ranch in a few hours, until Monday morning, and then I'm heading straight to Santa Barbara. I can't wait to be home...can't wait to meet the family's new dog, can't wait to walk on State Street with the perfect Christmas lights and smells and sounds, can't wait to have a beer at Brew House, a sandwich at Fresco, and a Blenders; extra vanilla. My siblings will all be home, too, which is awesome. My sisters, who are adorable and silly:

And my brothers, who...well, shave our family's cats in their spare time:

Another Autumn; A Traveler's Guide

"Summer Teeth," Wilco

Sometimes my job is excruciating. Sometimes my kids challenge my patience and push my limits and break my heart. There are kids I worry about, kids I get frustrated by, kids I get angry at, and kids I feel sorry for. But most of the time (and at the risk of sounding like a sappy cliche), teaching is such a reward. My students crack me up, make me proud, challenge my intellect, and amaze me every day. It's the week before Thanksgiving break, and I'm feeling pulled in a million directions, buried under thousands of essays, and utterly exhausted. I'm ready for a break. But then something like this happens: I come home from a run, and before I make dinner and dive into grading two class sets of independent novel assignments, I Google "East of Eden excerpts." Because I'm teaching it for the first time in the spring to my Honors sophomores, and I should probably, you know, read it before then. And this passage comes up as one of the first links:

Our species is the only creative species, and it has only one creative instrument, the individual mind and spirit of a man. Nothing was ever created by two men. There are no good collaborations, whether in music, in art, in poetry, in mathematics, in philosophy. Once the miracle of creation has taken place, the group can build and extend it, but the group never invents anything. The preciousness lies in the lonely mind of a man.

And now the forces marshaled around the concept of the group have declared a war of extermination on that preciousness, the mind of man. By disparagement, by starvation, by repressions, forced direction, and the stunning hammerblows of conditioning, the free, roving mind is being pursued, roped, blunted, drugged. It is a sad suicidal course our species seems to have taken.

And this I believe: that the free, exploring mind of the individual human is the most valuable thing in the world. And this I would fight for: the freedom of the mind to take any direction it wishes, undirected. And this I must fight against: any idea, religion, or government which limits or destroys the individual. This is what I am and what I am about. I can understand why a system built on a pattern must try to destroy the free mind, for that is the one thing which can by inspection destroy such a system. Surely I can understand this, and I hate it and I will fight against it to preserve the one thing that separates us from the uncreative beasts. If the glory can be killed, we are lost.

And then it really doesn't matter that I'm tired, and overworked, and underpaid. Because THIS is the stuff I get to read, and analyze, and share with other individuals on a daily basis. I get to make a living by enjoying and discussing Steinbeck. I get to hear kids respond to the epitome of masterpiece prose and intellectual stimulus. The essays and the dog-ate-my-homework-and-my-printer-broke excuses are totally worth it.

Just About the Break of Day

"Early in the Morning," Eric Clapton

Tamarack Beach; Dawn

Cause I like where I’m livin’ . . .
And I like what I do . . .
And I like what I’m seein’ . . .
When I’m lookin’ at you . .
I still like what I’m saying . . .
When I open my face.
I think I got the right feeling.
I think I’m in the right place.

-"The Right Place," Monsters of Folk