poems from california

I.

If a lover causes pain,
release this from them.
Walk out of their house,
turn around,
take all of the paper and coins
out of your pockets,
wipe your shoes with three scuffs,
and then
walk back into your lover's house.
Walk softly towards their face
and kiss a kiss deep
inside their golden hair.

Remember a toast that was made
over a 2005 bottle of Australian Shiraz
when you were only twenty seven:
"may lovers be constantly in awe -
the beloved always a changing thing.
May you always find the act of the lover eating
enthralling - may we live life in constant
stupor - like the first time we touched,
everyday, the sight of you in bed."

If this does not work,
walk out
and walk back in.

A wave is not a thing,
A body is not real,
both are only moments
before breaking into light.


II.

always, in the morning
when i must leave you
it feels as though my blood
begins to pump
away from my heart -
every string inside my body
is taut, pulled
ringing.

sunday

and the poet finally realizes:

words are silly things
for how can they begin
to explain the clouds?



do not be afraid of words -
they don't even know how
to describe the wine



if you must - say words to me
but please whisper them into my ear
it is not the words i adore
but your breath, close

up early

I've set my alarm an hour earlier than usual for the past two mornings. I get up diligently, like a monk, and begin at my desk. Yesterday I wrote a "discussion quiz" and this morning I am researching analogies and writing journal prompts.

One day, my filing cabinet will be full of all these mornings: it will smell like vanilla coffee and it may gurgle like my humidifier is doing now, it may brighten slowly like the Alaskan sky.

I realized the juniors are all taking the SAT/ACT soon and we haven't talked about analogies: these tricky bridges, these tiny colons and the many, many black bubbles! Sometimes it's good when they talk in class: "Hey Scott, you taking the ACT?" It lets me know what they are doing; what they might need.

In other news, I was a completely responsible/irresponsible teacher over the three day weekend. I flew stand-by to San Diego to surprise my most beautiful boyfriend. I stood on the beach and felt waves rush up past my ankles, cold, thrilling, and then release back into the ocean. I thought of it like teaching, like planning - every day is a wave, it goes in, goes out - and this week I haven't been super planned, and you know what? It has gone swimmingly. Long weekends are to treat thy mind and body, to eat decadent food, indulge in thoughtful conversation, witness stunning feats of nature, and maybe even cuddle. These are the things I am learning about becoming a teacher. I think the title is funny. "Teacher." Aren't we all teachers?

Vocabulary Test #1

I ask one of my students to use "eccentric" correctly in a sentence. She hesitates, stutters, and replies: "You become eccentric around someone you love." I have always thought of eccentric meaning "crazy," so I was intrigued by her sentence. I said, "ok, J. Back it up for me...what does eccentric mean to you in that sentence?" She said, "Well, if you have a crush on a boy - which I don't!! - but you, Ms. Evans, you're an attractive lady, if you have a boy, you feel changed around him, or peculiar - you feel eccentric." "Ok, J. Got it. Love it." Adventures in oral vocabulary exams, week one.

Also, I figured out that third hour is totally lost and they have no clue what is going on in the first 25 pages of "Fahrenheit 451," even though I've been talking them through it. Reading comprehension, much? Narrative flow chart, here we come!

And, because I know you all wish you were in high school again, just so you could have me as your English teacher, I "made" my students look and de Kooning paintings and listen to Cat Power and Sleater-Kinney to describe tone. It was awesome. As my mentor says, "Another happy day in happy-land!"

Now, why am I so tired?

Hump Day

Today when my student started quoting Eminem in response to our conversation on censorship and banned books, mumbling under his breath, "So the FCC won't let me be. Or let me be me so let me see. They tried to shut me down on MTV," I say, "NICE way to throw-back Eminem!" Needless to say, my students were mildly appalled - one of them saying, "Hey, teachers aren't [supposed to be] cool!" That felt awesome. Thanks, MTV circa 2002 - I knew there was a reason to be a junkie - I was storing pop culture knowledge for my teaching career!

Then, the most amazing thing happened. Another student, yes, I had my back turned, BUT! I wear ear-plugs at shows, and yes, I have ears that can hear notes being passed and texts being sent. So when I hear one of my students drop an F-bomb, blatantly, shamelessly, my ears ring and my pulse quickens - this is the moment - these seconds where I have no idea what I will do, but my body will take over, and something will happen.

My eyes widened and I felt my voice drop into that "teacher voice" range. I went over to his desk, eyebrows raised. I said, "You do not say that in my class --" but, as I was staring at him, I realized, as if irony could be an anvil dropping from the sky, that my lesson for today was on, yes, censorship. I started to smile. I had the whole class' attention, so I asked a question. "Why did I just freak out? Why did I want to censor him? What does this teach you about language?" My hands wildly gesticulating at this point - "That language is powerful. That is can create reactions in people, that it has a strong effect, that it is scary and beautiful, and sometimes we want to protect others from...language."

It was perfect. I think they got it, especially as they kept testing me throughout the hour with other "intense" words, but I just had to laugh. Also, after modifying my lesson last night to include more specific discussion questions and a set protocol, the discussion improved phenomenally. I walked around with a timer and "made" them speak on each question for two minutes. It was organized, thorough, and it took longer than I thought! Yay! I filled a class period with thoughtful, engaging material! Awesome!

And so the day went on - searching for the last working copier in the largest high school in Alaska is a funny adventure. I came upon one that was leaking tissue paper, as though the poor creature's organs were leaking out. I opened a door to pull a jam and found all of these tissue paper roses, crinkles, and layers - I didn't even know there was tissue paper in copiers! So I left a sign warning future travelers, and trudged onward.

5th hour - The discussion on evil was so much fun. Again, put them into groups, was specific about each student's "role," and had my teacher aide help moderate the groups. They were asking about vocabulary - "what is oppression? what is pro-life? what is an activist?" They were learning in context, and they were arguing in their small groups, and debating, and thinking, and when I asked them what they learned about evil, they said, "it comes in all forms, and is dependent on many factors." yes. More and more I learn, that if my students are speaking in thoughtful ways, and I am not, I am doing something right.

And I figured this much out: when I wake up in the morning, feeling restless, crowded out by the deep morning's darkness, and I honestly don't want to get in the car and fall asleep in the backseat for 45 minutes, and start this all over again, I will remember this: teaching, or going to teach in the morning, is like going to the gym. I don't want to do it. I would do anything to not do it. But, I kick my butt into gear - I put on eyeshadow and listen to trashy pop and ask for a little whipped cream on my mocha - and I get there. And then, once there, just like the gym, in the middle of my workout, headphones, serotonin pulsing in my blood, sweat beads on my eyelids, I think - I love this. I love this, I really do, and I'm so glad I'm here. I mean, I get to talk with young people all day about humanity: evil, love, struggle, happiness, language, and, man. That's awesome.

Day Two

Rode to school in the darkness. Delivered "the biggest skinny latte I could find" to my mentor teacher and actually felt like an intern. Her students were amazed that she could order a latte without a phone, without a text, and it would arrive for her. The latte that I brought made her students think she is more powerful than she really is. Because, I mean, she can manifest lattes. I would be scared too.

The discussion on censorship and banned books went well with 4th hour. But 80 minutes, really? That's almost as long as some feature-length films! I can't fill 80 minutes. Somehow, I did. I need to plan more things... or maybe give more think time, or ask more specific questions. When I tell my students to share in small groups, they can't do it. They say one sentence. Maybe I need to direct them, give them something focused to think about. I am learning more and more about the importance of specificity and modeling and clear, clear, crystal, expectations. Maybe we should read the articles as a class, and then they get into small groups to discuss?

I like how B. finally realized, "what do banned books matter? If a school or a church bans them, who cares? You can always get it somewhere else." Yes. To a point - oh! it was the big picture I was searching for - that people in the world get upset about books! about language! She also talked about China's censorship, saying, "they probably think we are weird. Maybe they've figured out that life is better without MTV. They obviously want to live like that because that's what they voted for." My students are wise sages, they have glittering minds, they are sensitive, they are balanced. They see through everything I try to tell them - they question and they make me think.

Then, 5th hour, I led my 9th graders on a guided visualization. They, all 30 of them, closed their eyes, and were impeccably silent. And then they wrote about what they saw in their mind, and then they drew it. It was phenomenal. I had to stop for a minute and smile. I got a room full of crazy hyper freshman to quiet down, and essentially, meditate. Then they shared their visions - T. "I didn't like my cube" A. "My horse ate the flower and then it died." O. "My horse was inside my cube." D. "My cube had a padlock on it." WOW. How can all of these minds, led by the same words, see such different things? Phenomenal.

I learned a lot today. To plan throughly. To communicate your choices with your mentor teacher even if you have been given "free reign". And as my mom always says, to not "beat myself up" - I did some beautiful things today. Just keep saying it.

Hesitation Stomach

I am going to write a blog about my student teaching. I am going to write this quickly when I get home and not worry about what it says or how it says things. I want to reflect on this art or this science of teaching I have begun to practice. I think about school too much sometimes, like when the moon is really pretty, sometimes I think about school, and not the moon, and I want to just tell you everything and maybe I just need to tell it to myself. "A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step." And so I begin.

Monday, January 4, 2010

Driving to school in the darkness, morning darkness. Okay, i'll say it. I'm nervous.
Then, walking into the school. Everything is the same. This is still the same place.
Printing off my handouts in the library from my e-mail account because I don't have a printer at home - yes, that's the same.

I started writing the daily journal on the white-board and one of my students said, realizing my mentor teacher is now gone for 30 days, "Where's Mr. D? He's the best part of my day! What am I gonna do?" Deflated. Right there. But, I plowed onward.

I took fourth hour into the commons and we played a social-emotional learning game and shared about our break. One of my students said he felt like he was in kindergarten. Awww, yeah! I was surprised when W. shared that his girlfriend broke up with him. I am glad he feels so comfortable to share. D. went to Portland and got two new tats and a piercing. I'm sure there is so much more that they aren't saying.

5th hour ate me alive. I realized this in the six minute passing period. Then, I changed everything. Of course, my new students want to know the facts first - who are you? how long will you be here? what's due? how do you grade? So I changed the order of everything. I talked about myself and where I am coming from. I told stories, I asked if they had any questions. Then we did the daily journal, and then we shared about our breaks. Everything was so much more calm, more fun. I like having two classes with the same material - how incredible we always want to hone and modify and make the things we create better. A better fire, a better wheel, a more efficient lesson.

The day ended. I went to Kaladi's and read and watched the night drip purple on the mountains until it was so dark you couldn't see them, so dark that if you told someone there were mountains, they would think you a liar.

I rode home in darkness, listening to my ipod and trying to remember that night we turned off the lights and just listened to music, just felt the warmth of our bodies close by. I started getting anxious again. Tomorrow. I need to plan for tomorrow - vocabulary lists, discussion questions, research. It will all happen. And I will sleep. And this weekend I will plan for the whole week, just like a regular teacher, so I can come home, from work, like a regular person and play with my dog, and write in my journal, and drink a glass of wine, and maybe even go for a walk.

These rhythms, these seasons, I feel like the whole world is new, like I have never experienced a winter, or a change. Teachers tell me I will soon "understand the rhythm". What surprised me most - my students were just as I left them. New haircuts, yes. But really, of what was I so scared? I actually found myself laughing with them during sixth hour. Laughing.