public radio is for rock stars.

This past week was quite a challenge for me. I suppose that is not a very surprising statement; every day is a challenge in its own way, but this week hit me particularly hard. Now, I am not complaining - in fact, I love a good challenge - instead, I say this in a very quizzical, perplexed sort of way, because I have no idea how to go about surmounting this particular challenge. Maybe you can help...

I am currently student teaching at a comprehensive, neighborhood high school in West Philadelphia. If you do not know anything about the Philadelphia School District, let me give you a backdrop: the Philadelphia Public School system is generally divided into three types of schools: charter schools, magnet schools, and neighborhood schools. The charter schools are loosely bound by the restrictions of the state and provide "alternative" education, where faculty and staff often use nontraditional, state-of-the-art teaching practices and methods in attempt to revolutionize education within a struggling district. Unfortunately, these schools only have the means to provide for so many students, so entrance restrictions are set and students are often selected out of a lottery system. Magnet schools are schools that "draw" students out of their natural school designation zones. These schools are generally reserved for students who achieve high academically (both in class and on the state standardized exam) and have no behavioral issues. What you are left with are neighborhood schools, which are the local schools to which a student would normally be assigned based on residence. These schools are filled with the students who did not qualify academically and behaviorally to be pulled out, or were not "lucky" enough to win the lottery.

Sayre High School, where I work, is a neighborhood school. It currently serves a student population that is 99% African American, the vast majority of whom live under the poverty line. The dropout rate is exorbitantly high, more than 50%, where the national average currently teeters around 16%. Inside of the school, the heating system is out of whack, the water is undrinkable and the hallways reek of the garbage that is strewn all along the floor. This is not any place that you would want to send your child to for school. At Penn, we are focusing on how we as educators might help bring about social justice, a cause for which my heart has become impassioned. I must say, however, that the what and why come much easier to me than the how, which is where my dilemma arises.

I love my students, I really do, and we generally have a ball together. But as of late, I have realized that while we may be having fun, I am not sure how much learning is going on within the classroom. I am presenting the necessary material, but I do not believe it is being absorbed. I am in the unique position of being the instructor of a Civics course (I typically teach history), a class where I think this "social justice" idea can really be hit home. Up to date, however, I feel like I am failing miserably. While my students seem to like me as a person and as a teacher, they do not appear to be buying my idea that they can bring about change in their own lives and communities.

My overall goal for the course is to show students how education is really the tool for success. While it may be easier for someone of a higher socioeconomic status to "blow off" his/her education, that high school diploma (and hopefully college degree!) can make a world of difference to someone in my students' position. I have tried the "learning for learning's sake" approach and, at least for the moment, they do not seem to agree, which has been very hard for me to understand. I am an information junkie! Anyone who knows me well will quickly be able to describe my unending affection for trivia. I love words, I love facts, I love to learn... I love school, and I try to show this with energy and enthusiasm every time I walk into Classroom 230. I have shared with my students my obsession with Merriam-Webster.com and National Public Radio, only to be met with laughs. I have tried to argue how cool it is to be smart but they readily disagree. So, what do I do? Clearly my approach is all wrong. How do I teach my students that not only is education itself absolutely essential, but also fun, interesting and exciting? How can I create that voracious, insatiable appetite for learning, not just as a tool for success but for its own sake? This is the challenge I spoke of, and one that I have no idea how to conquer. Any advice would be much appreciated; thank you kindly in advance!

Back in Black

Well, maybe not actually in black, but I am back. In fact, today I am rather colorful, adorned in my rainbow-print Hurley thermal and a pair of warm, purple leggings that probably aren't appropriate to wear to work but, hey, it was cold this morning. Today is one of those days that you do not want to take your pajamas off, hence my decision to remain quite cozy and toasty with them on. The weather has quite rapidly turned bleak and, though thankful for the conclusion of those eerie, 70-degree November days, I am continually underprepared for the cold climate, even after two years of living in New England.

As I mentioned below, my dear, I am sorry for the brief hiatus in my writing. I do not mean to deprive you of my nonsensical ramblings, which I know you constantly look forward to. (Ha!) But in all seriousness, I have missed you. As pathetic as this is going to sound, I have come to depend on you, on this bizarre, unilateral relationship we have. In truth: I love you. I love that I can tell you anything and everything, without fear of judgment. I love that I can pour out my emotions and frustrations and longings, knowing that there is some human entity who cares. You give me the freedom to express myself and believe that my voice does not go unheard and, for that, I see us as one.

An excerpt from Pablo Neruda's "Sonnet XVII" has been hovering round my head for days now. As an aficionada of Neruda's work, and poetry in general, I felt compelled to share it with you. Personally, I think the poem is more beautifully read in Spanish but, for the linguistically challenged, the English version is also quite lovely:

"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving
But this, in which there is no I or you,
So intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
So intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close."

How clearly Neruda articulates the unity that I so desire. His words resound in my mind, the connection between two lovers separated by flesh, space, time... This is the reason that I am so happy to be able to write again. Words hold immeasurable meaning for me, the bridge between two isolated minds, the way our thoughts are able to penetrate the infinite spaces between us. At long last, after several tempestuous weeks of graduate work and a never-ending cycle of caffeine highs and withdrawals, my studies have entered a temporary period of quiescence and I can finally pick up where I left off on this exploratory journey. The weeks to come will be filled with photographs and art and expression and all of the things my heart has been earnestly and vainly craving for all too long. Thank you for your patience. I look forward to continuing this love affair we have and the remembrance that I am never, ever alone. And please, never forget: neither are you.

All Apologies.

Just a brief note to express my regret to my imaginary readers for not posting as often as I should. I have entered an alternate universe known as Graduate Hell, a place where sleep, personal enjoyment and leisure all cease to exist. I should be returning from this disastrous trip in about a week and promise to bore you with my many philosophical notions and contemplations of life... until then, please forgive me. I miss you, too.

don't it always seem to go

I'm not sure what to say this afternoon. I can't even quite put words to how I am feeling. Listless? Despondent? I don't know...

It has been raining for four days straight. Usually I would be thrilled; I love the rain. I love the sound of the rain, the smell of it, the feeling of raindrops hitting your face, like soft, cool love pecks on your cheeks. I love to walk in the rain, dance in it, and I especially love to kiss in it... but today I just wish it would go away. I am in desperate need of some sunshine. I have been quite blue the past day or two. I miss my mum, and lately I cannot shake her from my mind. I miss her so much.

Seated precariously atop my lofty desk chair, I curl up over my steaming mug of tea, desperately trying to garner some of its warmth. I am soaked through to the bone after walking the seven waterlogged blocks from 30th Street Station to Biddle. Sitting here in the all-too-typically frigid library, I am a pneumonic disaster waiting to happen. The last thing I need is to catch cold; I had the flu all last week and it set me back light years in my work. We have reached midterm and let me tell you: graduate school is no joke. I have not slept in what seems like ages (four days would probably be accurate) and I am bloody exhausted. Drowning in a sea of papers and pedagogical theory, I am not sure how I am to survive the rest of fall term. All the tooth-brushing in the world could not keep up with these coffee stains, and I alternate between constant states of caffeine-induced neurosis and a zombie-like stupor. Tomorrow morning I take on full responsibility within my classroom assignment. I am not in the least bit intimidated by the teaching itself, as I have taught before and I think it suits me well, but I am quite worried about the additional obligations and workload. I barely have time to breathe, let alone take on lesson planning, grading, record-keeping and all of the other lovely behind-the-scenes tasks a teacher must complete. I am very anxious as to how I am going to manage my time, I'm afraid I may unravel. Oy vey :(

I wish Mumma was here. She was in no way orderly or structured, in fact she was a bit of a chaotic mess, but she always knew how to put me back together when I was out of sorts. She had this strikingly calming effect on me, something few people have been able to replicate. I used to spend hours on the phone with her, sharing my life, my adventures, my troubles. She was my source of strength. I know I am resilient, I know that I can get through this, but the journey is a bit more wearisome without her. I know she wants me to be a trooper, and I am abashed by my constant complaining, but some days it is hard to breathe. She was my best friend.

Have you ever lost anything, reader? This year has been filled with loss for me. I guess the important thing to remember is that I have also gained so much from this process. I have learned more about myself in the past ten months than I believe I have in the 24 years I have been alive. I have grown in ways that I never imagined, and I have proved that I am capable of so many things. Some days, though, that just doesn't feel like enough. I wish I could go back; I wish I could go back and tell her how much she meant to me. I hope she knew... I hope you know. Never leave anything unsaid, because you don't know what you have until it is gone. I've learned that the hard way. Have you? Do you know what it's like to have unspoken words trapped in your throat, asphyxiating your heart, your soul? It is a wretched feeling; I hope you never experience it.

Oh, bother... I could use some affinity. I have been so unbearably busy I have had no time for interaction and my spirits are suffering. Tell me things. Everything. A penny for your thoughts. I am in need of some discourse, intimacy, connection. I wonder about you, you know - the mysterious stranger come to read my innermost thoughts, cheering me on, or perhaps, wishing me harm. A bit creepy I must say... kidding. But seriously, I love you. I wish you were here right now. We would hold hands and walk to a coffee shop and talk for hours. I'd like that :)

the very best of policies.

Main Entry: hon·es·ty
Function: noun
2a: fairness and straightforwardness of conduct

Goethe said "what is uttered from the heart alone will win the hearts of others to your own." Now, I am not certain that being honest will win you any such love or admiration, but I can attest that it feels fantastic. To reference the age-old cliché, the truth really does set you free.

I recently was compelled to bare my soul (if you will) to someone who has been swimming around my brain for what has felt like ages. There wasn't any particular motivation in mind, no expectation of anything in return, but for some reason or another I just had to let it (the "truth") out. I have to say - I feel great! I know that nothing will come of my honesty, no hearts will be "won," no mountains moved; but just knowing that I put myself out there, that I was completely true to my heart, is a sensation I would not trade for anything in the world.

To quote one of my favorite songs from one of my favorite bands:
It is true what you say,
that I live like a hermit in my own head,
but when the sun shines again
I'll pull the curtains and blinds to let the light in.


Although writing a pseudo-autobiographical/self-explorative blog would suggest the contrary, I actually keep mostly to myself. For every thought that I share there are countless more that go unspoken. I wander the earth as a waif, unclaimed and unaccompanied, and for the most part, I am happy with that. My ever-running mind entertains me with dreams and schemes and ponderings. But, I suppose, it is necessary to let go of my reclusive ways and open up every now and then (right?). My recent avowal was a small attempt at letting some "light" in. And, boy, do I feel light!

Since I seem to be on a quotation kick, it won't hurt to mention that Thomas Jefferson said honesty is the first chapter in the book of wisdom. Now, I don't know if I feel any wiser, but given my recent focus on the pursuit of wisdom and growth, I am quite happy to embrace this idea. Whatever the case may be, I can tell you, reader, that I feel joyful, liberated and at peace. So whether honesty brings you love, freedom, or sagacity: speak true, and speak free. I did, and it has made all the difference, dear. I tell you true :)

a gray sky, a bitter sting.

Today is a gray and blustery sort of day. The radiant yellow leaves of a nearby tree provide a striking contrast to the achromatic, misty sky as I stare out the window across from my perch at the circulation desk. I draw my sweater in tighter as a light shower begins to fall outside, as if the library itself was experiencing the same chilly precipitation indoors. What a morning. I have spent the past three days sick in bed and, somehow, I mustered up the strength to trudge my way onto campus after a not-so-restful night. Being sick, truly sick, and alone for the first time in years has not been a pleasant experience. I remember all too well the grape-flavored beverages and forehead kisses of the not so distant past. I remember when being sick, or caring for a sick loved one, seemed less enervating because it was faced with a companion. I remember making AirBorne and hot tea with honey and grilled cheese and watching movies 'til we both fell asleep. I remember the unparalleled comfort and healing of another warm body in the bed. Now, the only one sharing my covers is an eye-less bear in a worn, red t-shirt who says about as much as you've said to me lately: not a word. It's just a sad day, I suppose. I know better than to feel sorry for myself, but knowing and feeling and doing are all quite different... Anyway, I did not really have anything to say today, so I apologize. In a little while I will take a walk out in the rain and sip some tea and listen to the Decemberists and all will suddenly feel right in the world again. For now, the forecast is just a bit of broken-heartedness. Better tomorrow, I promise.