I didn't get the job I applied for in Boston. So, now I have to figure out where I'm going to be working next year on top of everything else that I'm trying to shove into days that literally don't have enough hours in them.
Thank you for your well wishes. No, I don't want to talk about it. No, I have no idea where I'll be come July. Yes, I am listening to "Illumination" by Gogol Bordello on repeat.
Okay, then.
New Job Prospects
K'Fain, Catie, and I always said it would never happen to us. Every single time the question was asked, we would cringe in disgust and immediately refute it.
"Oh, you're getting an English degree. What are you going to do with that? Teach?"
First off, this is offensive. As if the only thing that an English degree gives you the ability to do is teach other people English. I guess that they think that us guarders of the moth-eaten texts must have a single track mind and want to inflict learning on the world at large. Never mind the huge number of publications that need writers and editors. Forget the fact that reading comprehension, higher level thinking skills, creativity, imagination, and an exposure to a wide variety of issues comes from an English degree. And never mind the fact that many English degree holders have gotten very distinguished M.R.S. degrees in life that have made teaching unnecessary. Regardless of these things, no, we shouted, we didn't want to be teachers.
Then Catie got a job as a Parapro and she's getting her Master's in Education.
And I work for a nonprofit out in Los Angeles that tutors in some of the lowest-performing schools in the region.
Tomorrow, I find out if I've got a job with City Year Care Force. I really want it. I know that I do. I think that it's an amazing experience that could very well change the course of my life.
But...
I bought the Kindle edition of Teach Like a Champion because it's not going to be available for another month in book form and I wanted to implement the tips in there into my teaching as soon as possible. I read education-oriented articles. I'm constantly checking out books on contemporary education. I find myself making flash cards, crunching student data, fretting about the achievement gap, and praying not to get the elementary school crud again. But, I love my kids. My third graders are fantastic. My first graders are so full of life. I know that I can make a difference there. I know I can. But, I'm just getting good at this and this job is almost over. I've only got three months left in this job. That's nothing.
I said that I'd never come back for another year in Los Angeles. I can't take it. This isn't my city. But suddenly...I find myself thinking how much better I could be next year. I'm thinking about what I would have to do become a teacher once they stop firing all the teachers out here.
Never say never, I suppose. I just may find myself spouting rhetoric at kids for another year. But I want it to be the same kids. I came here to do a job...and it most certainly isn't done yet.
"Oh, you're getting an English degree. What are you going to do with that? Teach?"
First off, this is offensive. As if the only thing that an English degree gives you the ability to do is teach other people English. I guess that they think that us guarders of the moth-eaten texts must have a single track mind and want to inflict learning on the world at large. Never mind the huge number of publications that need writers and editors. Forget the fact that reading comprehension, higher level thinking skills, creativity, imagination, and an exposure to a wide variety of issues comes from an English degree. And never mind the fact that many English degree holders have gotten very distinguished M.R.S. degrees in life that have made teaching unnecessary. Regardless of these things, no, we shouted, we didn't want to be teachers.
Then Catie got a job as a Parapro and she's getting her Master's in Education.
And I work for a nonprofit out in Los Angeles that tutors in some of the lowest-performing schools in the region.
Tomorrow, I find out if I've got a job with City Year Care Force. I really want it. I know that I do. I think that it's an amazing experience that could very well change the course of my life.
But...
I bought the Kindle edition of Teach Like a Champion because it's not going to be available for another month in book form and I wanted to implement the tips in there into my teaching as soon as possible. I read education-oriented articles. I'm constantly checking out books on contemporary education. I find myself making flash cards, crunching student data, fretting about the achievement gap, and praying not to get the elementary school crud again. But, I love my kids. My third graders are fantastic. My first graders are so full of life. I know that I can make a difference there. I know I can. But, I'm just getting good at this and this job is almost over. I've only got three months left in this job. That's nothing.
I said that I'd never come back for another year in Los Angeles. I can't take it. This isn't my city. But suddenly...I find myself thinking how much better I could be next year. I'm thinking about what I would have to do become a teacher once they stop firing all the teachers out here.
Never say never, I suppose. I just may find myself spouting rhetoric at kids for another year. But I want it to be the same kids. I came here to do a job...and it most certainly isn't done yet.
Brainstorm: "Nothing Much" new project
Working title: Nothing Much
Inspiration:
New York Times article stating that Projection Design is now a major at the Yale School of Drama because of the prevalence of projection use in contemporary theatre.
Skype call on March 12, 2010 with Jennifer H. where we caught up with life while being eight time zones away from each other.
Teisch's (sp?) play Speed of Darkness about a modern family having their skeletons dragged out of the closet.
Plot:
Andrew and Roxanne were best friends in college. It is now eight years later. Andrew has settled down with a wife and kids, house, the American Dream-esque existence. Roxanne is in Africa (right now, S. Africa...might change with research process) with Doctors Without Borders. They Skype each other and catch up. Play opens with seemingly banal conversation.
Roxanne gets leave to go back to the states. Having no family, she decides to go visit Andrew. This throws things apart for Andrew because the life of his perfect wife and two children doesn't exist anymore--wife died in a car crash with one (maybe both) of the children. Andrew maintains facade with Roxanne because its the only place in his life where he can pretend the happiness exists that he thinks he would've had with his family.
Roxanne imparts on a task to save him while at the same time struggling between the two calls of duty: does she save her longtime friend who has no one else or does she go back to her calling as a doctor in the part of the world that truly needs her?
Motif throughout the show will be video calls between characters in different areas projected on screen (like they appear on a computer). This will provide the contrast between what people say when they communicate between computers and the reality of life that doesn't fit on a webcam. Are we who we really are when other people are watching, or do we all become the film editors of our own lives.
Inspiration:
New York Times article stating that Projection Design is now a major at the Yale School of Drama because of the prevalence of projection use in contemporary theatre.
Skype call on March 12, 2010 with Jennifer H. where we caught up with life while being eight time zones away from each other.
Teisch's (sp?) play Speed of Darkness about a modern family having their skeletons dragged out of the closet.
Plot:
Andrew and Roxanne were best friends in college. It is now eight years later. Andrew has settled down with a wife and kids, house, the American Dream-esque existence. Roxanne is in Africa (right now, S. Africa...might change with research process) with Doctors Without Borders. They Skype each other and catch up. Play opens with seemingly banal conversation.
Roxanne gets leave to go back to the states. Having no family, she decides to go visit Andrew. This throws things apart for Andrew because the life of his perfect wife and two children doesn't exist anymore--wife died in a car crash with one (maybe both) of the children. Andrew maintains facade with Roxanne because its the only place in his life where he can pretend the happiness exists that he thinks he would've had with his family.
Roxanne imparts on a task to save him while at the same time struggling between the two calls of duty: does she save her longtime friend who has no one else or does she go back to her calling as a doctor in the part of the world that truly needs her?
Motif throughout the show will be video calls between characters in different areas projected on screen (like they appear on a computer). This will provide the contrast between what people say when they communicate between computers and the reality of life that doesn't fit on a webcam. Are we who we really are when other people are watching, or do we all become the film editors of our own lives.
Note Cards
I compulsively reread Ann Lamott's Bird by Bird. Mel Sumner, my college creative writing teacher, suggested it and I consumed it in like three days the first time I read it. The advice seemed poignant and funny, and really, what is one without the other. I remembered a lot of what the book had to offer and it made me feel a lot saner about writing and life in general.
I traded for the book on Paperback Swap a while ago. Since then, I've probably read it over a dozen times, reading the chapters out of order, blazing through territory that is comfortable and familiar. I bring it up because one of the chapters brings up the subject of index cards. She says that she never travels without an index card on her at all times so that she has something small that she can instantly write on if something notable comes up in her mind or in the world.
I've tried to start doing this since carrying a journal at school is nearly impossible. So, I'm taking notes about the crackheads I see before 8 AM and all the little things my kids say to me. One of my third-graders told me that I would make a great dad this week. I liked that. Anyways, I might start posting them up here just to keep a stream of content going on days when I really can't bear to sit down and bang anything out.
Our after school program numbers have been really low lately, but at the same time, the kids that are showing up all want to be there and are actively engaged and there are no behavior issues. So, I'm okay with it. It makes my life a whole lot saner.
I traded for the book on Paperback Swap a while ago. Since then, I've probably read it over a dozen times, reading the chapters out of order, blazing through territory that is comfortable and familiar. I bring it up because one of the chapters brings up the subject of index cards. She says that she never travels without an index card on her at all times so that she has something small that she can instantly write on if something notable comes up in her mind or in the world.
I've tried to start doing this since carrying a journal at school is nearly impossible. So, I'm taking notes about the crackheads I see before 8 AM and all the little things my kids say to me. One of my third-graders told me that I would make a great dad this week. I liked that. Anyways, I might start posting them up here just to keep a stream of content going on days when I really can't bear to sit down and bang anything out.
Our after school program numbers have been really low lately, but at the same time, the kids that are showing up all want to be there and are actively engaged and there are no behavior issues. So, I'm okay with it. It makes my life a whole lot saner.
It's been a week since my last post. In that time, I have spearheaded a talent show, held some hardcore Spring Break Camps meetings, volunteered at a mentoring day in Boyle Heights, and had the single best day of work since I got back from Christmas.
Today, all of the bad kids were gone from our after school program. The girl with the attitude and an excuse for everything. The boy with anger issues and the permanently sour expression. The people they egg on. The boy that has some learning disabilities that makes it hard to get him to focus. All of our kids who aren't fully invested in Starfish Corps and what it is and what it does...they all didn't show up. They had choir or drill team or cheerleading or class prep for a performance. Regardless, today was beautiful. And, after seeing how beautiful it can be, I am not going to put up with the bullshit anymore.
---
In other news, I'm cooking ribs tomorrow and watching a movie with Val. This movie promises to be fantastic for rewatching movies. On the docket are Pink Flamingos, Wild Tigers I Have Known, and Mean Girls. This should be epic in its camp fantasticness.
---
Currently Pondering: When it comes to education reform, it seems like a huge number of external organizations (Teach for America, City Year, 826, etc.) enter schools as unique external organizations to provide services. However, because schools don't provide their own services, they are at the mercy of external groups to meet all the needs of their students. Thus, do external organizations engender a system of codependency that doesn't actually remedy the education system?
---
I wish that I could go to the New York Film Festival in LA (a nomenclature clusterfuck if ever there was one), a debate at the Hammer Museum, and Patton Oswalt's concert in the next week. However, I don't think I'm going to be able to do any of it. Gah.
Today, all of the bad kids were gone from our after school program. The girl with the attitude and an excuse for everything. The boy with anger issues and the permanently sour expression. The people they egg on. The boy that has some learning disabilities that makes it hard to get him to focus. All of our kids who aren't fully invested in Starfish Corps and what it is and what it does...they all didn't show up. They had choir or drill team or cheerleading or class prep for a performance. Regardless, today was beautiful. And, after seeing how beautiful it can be, I am not going to put up with the bullshit anymore.
---
In other news, I'm cooking ribs tomorrow and watching a movie with Val. This movie promises to be fantastic for rewatching movies. On the docket are Pink Flamingos, Wild Tigers I Have Known, and Mean Girls. This should be epic in its camp fantasticness.
---
Currently Pondering: When it comes to education reform, it seems like a huge number of external organizations (Teach for America, City Year, 826, etc.) enter schools as unique external organizations to provide services. However, because schools don't provide their own services, they are at the mercy of external groups to meet all the needs of their students. Thus, do external organizations engender a system of codependency that doesn't actually remedy the education system?
---
I wish that I could go to the New York Film Festival in LA (a nomenclature clusterfuck if ever there was one), a debate at the Hammer Museum, and Patton Oswalt's concert in the next week. However, I don't think I'm going to be able to do any of it. Gah.
Slavery-Lite
So, I was sitting in the office tonight, quickly catching up on e-mail, trying desperately to get out before my 12 hour day somehow turned into a 13 hour monstrosity. Behind me, I heard my friends Jake and Celina talking about get together for next Saturday night. Something about selling people. Something about what people should wear. I turned to Jake and he handed me the invite that had apparently just been made.
Two things about this invite:
1. It is a remake of the famous Grant Wood painting "American Gothic." I fucking love making homages to "American Gothic."
2. It is this Saturday night at a familiar locale in Koreatown.
When I asked what was going on, Celina said that there was going to be a date auction, but that I already knew that. Which was news to me. Because I hadn't heard anything. But she continued, "Yeah, it's going to be Joe, Amanda, Will, and you, so far. Richard said he talked to you." We both turned to look at Richard, who was sitting across the room, staring at a computer. He didn't say anything, and Celina just looked away and rolled her eyes.
"This is the first you're hearing about it."
"Yeah. That's about the size of it."
"We're having a date auction to support the arts. Don't you like the arts?"
What sort of question is that? Loaded, for sure. "So, will you do it?" Only in my time in LA have I been asked to be an item at an auction after it was already announced on Facebook that I'd be there. I have such a weird life and such crazy inventive friends.
"Sure, why not?"
The thing is, date auctions always make me a little sad when they're taken too seriously, so I hope this one is light-hearted (I plan to show up dressed like my thug life roommate, so there you go). Plus, I've done date auctions before Improv, and even though I hated them (and always could find a reason to push it further back in the calendar), it isn't the end of the world. It just all boils down to my very human fear that no one will pick me or that I will be picked last. Which is dumb and probably won't happen and even if it does, who gives a fuck? It's for charity, and it didn't cost me a damn thing. And I'm doing a friend of favor.
God, there better be free booze there.
Two things about this invite:
1. It is a remake of the famous Grant Wood painting "American Gothic." I fucking love making homages to "American Gothic."
2. It is this Saturday night at a familiar locale in Koreatown.
When I asked what was going on, Celina said that there was going to be a date auction, but that I already knew that. Which was news to me. Because I hadn't heard anything. But she continued, "Yeah, it's going to be Joe, Amanda, Will, and you, so far. Richard said he talked to you." We both turned to look at Richard, who was sitting across the room, staring at a computer. He didn't say anything, and Celina just looked away and rolled her eyes.
"This is the first you're hearing about it."
"Yeah. That's about the size of it."
"We're having a date auction to support the arts. Don't you like the arts?"
What sort of question is that? Loaded, for sure. "So, will you do it?" Only in my time in LA have I been asked to be an item at an auction after it was already announced on Facebook that I'd be there. I have such a weird life and such crazy inventive friends.
"Sure, why not?"
The thing is, date auctions always make me a little sad when they're taken too seriously, so I hope this one is light-hearted (I plan to show up dressed like my thug life roommate, so there you go). Plus, I've done date auctions before Improv, and even though I hated them (and always could find a reason to push it further back in the calendar), it isn't the end of the world. It just all boils down to my very human fear that no one will pick me or that I will be picked last. Which is dumb and probably won't happen and even if it does, who gives a fuck? It's for charity, and it didn't cost me a damn thing. And I'm doing a friend of favor.
God, there better be free booze there.
Week in Review
Things that happened this week:
-Spelling Bee was done to great success.
-I got an intervention group in my third grade class that means I'm going to rock literacy for the coming months.
-Participated in an IJ group for the first time ever.
-Almost fell asleep at work on Friday because the crafts I was researching were dumb. What do you do with kids from these neighborhoods who aren't easily impressed or impressible?
-Made an ass of myself Saturday night.
-Started writing again tonight.
-Spelling Bee was done to great success.
-I got an intervention group in my third grade class that means I'm going to rock literacy for the coming months.
-Participated in an IJ group for the first time ever.
-Almost fell asleep at work on Friday because the crafts I was researching were dumb. What do you do with kids from these neighborhoods who aren't easily impressed or impressible?
-Made an ass of myself Saturday night.
-Started writing again tonight.
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