Thursday, August 30, 2007
It's a Start
After spending the last few days packing boxes and planning out the move, Michael and I finally have the keys to our new apartment (yay). We moved over a few things this morning, but then Michael had to leave for work. Fortunately, my sister Hope was able to come over and help me this afternoon, and we got most of the kitchen and bathroom stuff moved. I'm planning to spend the rest of this evening (Michael is at work until 10:00) packing over as much of the rest of the kitchen stuff as I can, then unpacking it all and seeing if I can have a working kitchen by the time Michael gets home. My dad is coming tomorrow to help us with the big furniture, and Hope and Peter will be back to help. Still, it's going to be an exhausting couple of days, and I'm already tired! I'll be glad when we're settled again!
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
The Next Step
Some of you have asked about what I will do now that the Loft directorship is no longer on the table. The simple answer is this: I'll look for another job. I don't really have any idea what that new job will be, nor do I have a lot of time to think about it right now as I'm getting us ready to move. Fortunately for me, my current work situation is such that I have a whole year to research and find the perfect next job for me.
I'll remain in my current teaching position at Career Link for the school year, and I did accept a full tutoring schedule at the Loft (although I'm still waiting to see if I like the new director). Even without the Loft hours, my teaching job will pay enough for me to be comfortable while I look for something else.
Why not just stay at Career Link indefinitely? I might, if I knew it would be guaranteed employment. Sadly (mostly sad for the kids this is going to hurt--shame on you President Bush and No Child Left Behind!), the funding for the program has been cut. This is a direct result of No Child Left Behind, which stipulates that a GED is not an acceptable outcome--only a high school diploma will satisfy the requirements. Career Link has enough budget surplus from the past few years to operate for one more year. What will the kids do when Career Link closes? According to the president and his cronies, they'll go back to high school and finish their diplomas like they should.
Forget that there are a lot of kids out there for whom high school is such a toxic experience that there's no way they're going to attend often enough to satisfy the requirements of a high school diploma. They don't have the right clothes. They don't have the right body type. They don't listen to the right music, watch the right movies, say the right things. They don't have the money popularity requires. They're picked on, bullied, and tormented to the point that they're afraid to go to school.
Forget that there are kids who come from single parent homes where no one has EVER tucked them in at night and read them stories. Their parent(s) are too busy trying to survive that they don't have time to provide a so-called normal childhood for their children. About three-quarters my class last spring didn't know the Hans Christian Anderson version of The Little Mermaid, and when I asked them what their favorite bedtime stories were when they were kids, most of them replied that no one had read to them. No one is there when they get home from school, with milk and cookies and help with homework. No one makes sure they eat breakfast before they leave for school in the morning. No one takes them on family vacations every summer. No one takes them to the zoo or other enriching places on weekends. No one makes a big dinner on Thanksgiving or plays Santa on Christmas. The adults in my students' lives hardly have time to remember they have children most of the time.
Forget that many of them come from houses where the so-called responsible adults in their lives are entirely drugged out of their minds. I have students who come to school hungry because their mothers have used all the food money to buy crack. I have students who come to school and complain that their fathers smoked all their cigarettes, and they need a nicotine fix or they won't be able to pay attention in class.
Forget that many of them have drug problems of their own to contend with. I have students who come to school so high they fall asleep in the back row of my classroom, and when I wake them they are so stupefied they don't remember where they are, and their glazed over expression and the scent of pot tells me all I need to know about the problem. I have students who are in and out of rehab on a regular basis, never quite managing to get completely clean before their beds are given to more severe cases.
Forget that a lot of them are too scared to go home, because home is where they're physically, sexually, mentally, or otherwise abused. They live on the streets or with friends who have slightly better circumstances than their own, sleeping on floors, in cardboard boxes, and under bridges. These kids fall asleep in my classroom because it's the first safe, warm place they've been after a weekend on the streets. Quite frankly, I let them sleep because they're too scared and exhausted to stay awake.
Forget that many of them are teenage parents, both fathers and mothers, trying to finish a GED after they've been forced to drop out of high school to support babies. High school is a full time job for a teenager, and my students don't have time to pretend high school is important while they're learning to be parents and working real full time jobs to support their children. They're hoping to get a GED, which will allow them to get slightly better jobs than flipping burgers at Mac Donald's, so that maybe their babies might have a better childhood than they did.
Forget that many of them have learning disabilities that, because of lack of money and health insurance in their homes and insufficient social services and overworked school employees, have never been diagnosed or have been misdiagnosed. They suffer in high school classrooms, falling quietly behind their peers or acting the part of class clowns to cover for their insufficiencies. No one ever notices that they're struggling until they give up and drop out, at which point they're so credit deficit and behind in their studies that they could work until they're 35 and still not get that high school diploma.
For my students, a high school diploma is as far out of reach as an all-expense paid trip to the moon. Life has dealt them a really crappy hand, and while they're doing all they can to cope with all their other problems, it isn't realistic to expect them to succeed in the candy-coated world of cheerleaders and football players, popularity and proms. That they're willing to attend classes and try to get a GED is enough of a miracle. I wish the pristine, black business suited politicians, who send their own children to the best private schools in the country, would be forced for just one month to live the lives my students have led since birth, and then say to my students that they should attend a regular high school and graduate with a high school diploma. It's disgusting that No Child Left Behind is leaving behind so many young people. What will these kids do when GED programs are gone? Tell me they won't be left behind. It's not like any of them are going to suddenly decide to return to high school and get high school diplomas. No Child Left Behind is further contributing to the poverty and lack of education that is bringing the United States further and further down the world scale, both socially and economically. It is an act that purposely leaves behind a whole lot of children: the poor, the abused, the drug addicted, the less academically gifted, those who don't fit in at a high school. President Bush and his friends would rather pretend that these "undesirable" children do not exist, that every child in the United States is as lucky as their own children. I don't know how people of such privilege can ignore the suffering of so many children, but it seems that they can.
What will I do next, when Career Link closes its doors next June? I'm hoping I'll find a job as a youth advocate (or education advocate) in some way. Someone has to keep fighting for people who are too downtrodden to use their own voices! I'll look for another GED program, an adult education program, a youth center, another teaching position that will allow me to continue to help those who are being left behind every day, from the minute they're born. I definitely want to continue to work with marginalized populations in some capacity. This summer's ESL classes and my work in the Loft have shown me another route that is open to me, which would be helping the immigrant population, much of which lives in situations as atrocious as my Career Link students'. I think there are a lot of options out there for people who want to help other people. While these jobs might not pay a lot, I don't require a mansion and a beach house and a fancy car with a driver. Helping other people pays enough to keep healthy food on the table, a sound roof over my head, and so many of life's little luxuries that I seem really rich when I compare myself to most of the rest of the world.
I might have whined about not getting the Loft directorship, but in the end, I still have a great job, an amazing education that no one can ever take from me, a wonderful and stable family, an incredible boyfriend who supports me unconditionally and loves me even when I'm stressed out, and a comfortable home. I'm luckier than most people. I think I have a responsibility to share some of that with people less fortunate than myself.
I'll remain in my current teaching position at Career Link for the school year, and I did accept a full tutoring schedule at the Loft (although I'm still waiting to see if I like the new director). Even without the Loft hours, my teaching job will pay enough for me to be comfortable while I look for something else.
Why not just stay at Career Link indefinitely? I might, if I knew it would be guaranteed employment. Sadly (mostly sad for the kids this is going to hurt--shame on you President Bush and No Child Left Behind!), the funding for the program has been cut. This is a direct result of No Child Left Behind, which stipulates that a GED is not an acceptable outcome--only a high school diploma will satisfy the requirements. Career Link has enough budget surplus from the past few years to operate for one more year. What will the kids do when Career Link closes? According to the president and his cronies, they'll go back to high school and finish their diplomas like they should.
Forget that there are a lot of kids out there for whom high school is such a toxic experience that there's no way they're going to attend often enough to satisfy the requirements of a high school diploma. They don't have the right clothes. They don't have the right body type. They don't listen to the right music, watch the right movies, say the right things. They don't have the money popularity requires. They're picked on, bullied, and tormented to the point that they're afraid to go to school.
Forget that there are kids who come from single parent homes where no one has EVER tucked them in at night and read them stories. Their parent(s) are too busy trying to survive that they don't have time to provide a so-called normal childhood for their children. About three-quarters my class last spring didn't know the Hans Christian Anderson version of The Little Mermaid, and when I asked them what their favorite bedtime stories were when they were kids, most of them replied that no one had read to them. No one is there when they get home from school, with milk and cookies and help with homework. No one makes sure they eat breakfast before they leave for school in the morning. No one takes them on family vacations every summer. No one takes them to the zoo or other enriching places on weekends. No one makes a big dinner on Thanksgiving or plays Santa on Christmas. The adults in my students' lives hardly have time to remember they have children most of the time.
Forget that many of them come from houses where the so-called responsible adults in their lives are entirely drugged out of their minds. I have students who come to school hungry because their mothers have used all the food money to buy crack. I have students who come to school and complain that their fathers smoked all their cigarettes, and they need a nicotine fix or they won't be able to pay attention in class.
Forget that many of them have drug problems of their own to contend with. I have students who come to school so high they fall asleep in the back row of my classroom, and when I wake them they are so stupefied they don't remember where they are, and their glazed over expression and the scent of pot tells me all I need to know about the problem. I have students who are in and out of rehab on a regular basis, never quite managing to get completely clean before their beds are given to more severe cases.
Forget that a lot of them are too scared to go home, because home is where they're physically, sexually, mentally, or otherwise abused. They live on the streets or with friends who have slightly better circumstances than their own, sleeping on floors, in cardboard boxes, and under bridges. These kids fall asleep in my classroom because it's the first safe, warm place they've been after a weekend on the streets. Quite frankly, I let them sleep because they're too scared and exhausted to stay awake.
Forget that many of them are teenage parents, both fathers and mothers, trying to finish a GED after they've been forced to drop out of high school to support babies. High school is a full time job for a teenager, and my students don't have time to pretend high school is important while they're learning to be parents and working real full time jobs to support their children. They're hoping to get a GED, which will allow them to get slightly better jobs than flipping burgers at Mac Donald's, so that maybe their babies might have a better childhood than they did.
Forget that many of them have learning disabilities that, because of lack of money and health insurance in their homes and insufficient social services and overworked school employees, have never been diagnosed or have been misdiagnosed. They suffer in high school classrooms, falling quietly behind their peers or acting the part of class clowns to cover for their insufficiencies. No one ever notices that they're struggling until they give up and drop out, at which point they're so credit deficit and behind in their studies that they could work until they're 35 and still not get that high school diploma.
For my students, a high school diploma is as far out of reach as an all-expense paid trip to the moon. Life has dealt them a really crappy hand, and while they're doing all they can to cope with all their other problems, it isn't realistic to expect them to succeed in the candy-coated world of cheerleaders and football players, popularity and proms. That they're willing to attend classes and try to get a GED is enough of a miracle. I wish the pristine, black business suited politicians, who send their own children to the best private schools in the country, would be forced for just one month to live the lives my students have led since birth, and then say to my students that they should attend a regular high school and graduate with a high school diploma. It's disgusting that No Child Left Behind is leaving behind so many young people. What will these kids do when GED programs are gone? Tell me they won't be left behind. It's not like any of them are going to suddenly decide to return to high school and get high school diplomas. No Child Left Behind is further contributing to the poverty and lack of education that is bringing the United States further and further down the world scale, both socially and economically. It is an act that purposely leaves behind a whole lot of children: the poor, the abused, the drug addicted, the less academically gifted, those who don't fit in at a high school. President Bush and his friends would rather pretend that these "undesirable" children do not exist, that every child in the United States is as lucky as their own children. I don't know how people of such privilege can ignore the suffering of so many children, but it seems that they can.
What will I do next, when Career Link closes its doors next June? I'm hoping I'll find a job as a youth advocate (or education advocate) in some way. Someone has to keep fighting for people who are too downtrodden to use their own voices! I'll look for another GED program, an adult education program, a youth center, another teaching position that will allow me to continue to help those who are being left behind every day, from the minute they're born. I definitely want to continue to work with marginalized populations in some capacity. This summer's ESL classes and my work in the Loft have shown me another route that is open to me, which would be helping the immigrant population, much of which lives in situations as atrocious as my Career Link students'. I think there are a lot of options out there for people who want to help other people. While these jobs might not pay a lot, I don't require a mansion and a beach house and a fancy car with a driver. Helping other people pays enough to keep healthy food on the table, a sound roof over my head, and so many of life's little luxuries that I seem really rich when I compare myself to most of the rest of the world.
I might have whined about not getting the Loft directorship, but in the end, I still have a great job, an amazing education that no one can ever take from me, a wonderful and stable family, an incredible boyfriend who supports me unconditionally and loves me even when I'm stressed out, and a comfortable home. I'm luckier than most people. I think I have a responsibility to share some of that with people less fortunate than myself.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Books!
I've spent the past few days packing our books, and I'm still not through them all. I keep running out of boxes. I knew we had a lot of books, but wow--I didn't know there were quite this many! And I still have several shelves to go. But I'm out of boxes again. Fortunately, Michael will be around tomorrow and the next day to help with the effort. Our living room looks really sad like this, with depleted shelves. I'll be really glad when we're all moved in to the new place and everything is organized again. It' impossible to walk through the living room at the moment, because there are stacks of boxes everywhere. I despise moving, although I know I'm going to like the new apartment. This part is a pain though!
Friday, August 24, 2007
Disappointment (?)
Okay, so I (finally) got an email from the Loft hiring committee, and as I suspected, I didn't get the job. While I was pretty sure this was going to be the news I got, it's still a disappointment. I know all the people in the Loft really wanted me to get it, and I feel like in some way I'm letting them down, even though I know I tried my hardest. I'm not used to trying as hard as I can to get something, then not getting it. Maybe I've been spoiled. But I know that I've been good at every job I've ever had, even those I didn't like very much, and I would have been an awesome director for the Loft. Whoever they hired had better be spectacular, or I have a hunch the Loft might lose a bunch of tutors.
Now I have to decide if I want to go back this fall as a tutor. Part of me does. I mean, I do love tutoring. And my students like being able to come to the Loft and work with me. On the other hand, it might be wisest to cut my losses and move on with my life. I'm 30 years old. That's a little bit too old to be fiddling around with a dead-end career, in my opinion, and there doesn't seem to be much of a chance I'll be upwardly mobile at North. It's frustrating. Maybe I'm being impatient. Maybe if I stick it out a little longer, something great will open up. Maybe I'm not management material--maybe I'm a teacher, and I should stay with what I know I do well. I don't know. I seem to be having a low confidence evening. I can tell myself as many times as I want that I'm good at my job, but when something like this happens, I always question my abilities and wonder if I've chosen the right career, even though my chosen career has been teaching and not administration.
Of course, the money and the title would have been nice with the director job. But would I have really wanted to do the job? I'm not sure. Sometimes I think that I would be really good at it, and other times I think it would be a waste of my creativity and teaching talent to go into administration. The part of education I like best is getting my students to believe that learning can be fun, and administrators have very little contact with actual students, as I learned from watching Pappi. I don't think I'm the sort of person who would be happy managing employees and balancing budgets. I'd rather come up with new lesson plans. Maybe not getting this job is the right thing for me. Maybe I was just enticed by the title, and I didn't give enough consideration to whether I really wanted the job or not, and the hiring committee noticed this. (Please let it be that, and not that they think I'm incompetent. Ack! Insecurity!)
I'll be returning to my teaching position this fall, at least. Back to good old Career Link. It will feel good to work with the kids, and I always feel very successful as they start to get their GEDs and feel better about themselves. They're fun to teach, and I enjoy the challenge. It would have been sad not to have a classroom in the fall, I suppose. I know I'll like it when I get there. All I have to decide now is whether I'll continue to tutor. Probably. I did promise my ESL students I'd see them in the Loft this fall.
Now I have to decide if I want to go back this fall as a tutor. Part of me does. I mean, I do love tutoring. And my students like being able to come to the Loft and work with me. On the other hand, it might be wisest to cut my losses and move on with my life. I'm 30 years old. That's a little bit too old to be fiddling around with a dead-end career, in my opinion, and there doesn't seem to be much of a chance I'll be upwardly mobile at North. It's frustrating. Maybe I'm being impatient. Maybe if I stick it out a little longer, something great will open up. Maybe I'm not management material--maybe I'm a teacher, and I should stay with what I know I do well. I don't know. I seem to be having a low confidence evening. I can tell myself as many times as I want that I'm good at my job, but when something like this happens, I always question my abilities and wonder if I've chosen the right career, even though my chosen career has been teaching and not administration.
Of course, the money and the title would have been nice with the director job. But would I have really wanted to do the job? I'm not sure. Sometimes I think that I would be really good at it, and other times I think it would be a waste of my creativity and teaching talent to go into administration. The part of education I like best is getting my students to believe that learning can be fun, and administrators have very little contact with actual students, as I learned from watching Pappi. I don't think I'm the sort of person who would be happy managing employees and balancing budgets. I'd rather come up with new lesson plans. Maybe not getting this job is the right thing for me. Maybe I was just enticed by the title, and I didn't give enough consideration to whether I really wanted the job or not, and the hiring committee noticed this. (Please let it be that, and not that they think I'm incompetent. Ack! Insecurity!)
I'll be returning to my teaching position this fall, at least. Back to good old Career Link. It will feel good to work with the kids, and I always feel very successful as they start to get their GEDs and feel better about themselves. They're fun to teach, and I enjoy the challenge. It would have been sad not to have a classroom in the fall, I suppose. I know I'll like it when I get there. All I have to decide now is whether I'll continue to tutor. Probably. I did promise my ESL students I'd see them in the Loft this fall.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
My Wedding Dinner Toast
While they didn't ask everyone to do this, I had two stories that I wanted to tell at Hope's wedding, so in addition to the blessing, I also wrote a toast to give at the wedding feast. I chose not to give it to the whole table (there were simply too many people to hear me), but I did read it to the bride and groom (and a few others who were close enough to hear). Here's the text:
In our family, Hope is the youngest. This means that for her whole childhood, she worked as hard as she could to keep up with me and Kima. If we got roller skates, she wanted roller skates too--and never mind that she'd hardly learned to walk yet!
When she was about five years old, one of the things she desperately wanted was to be able to ride her little red bicycle without training wheels. Long after Kima and I had gone inside, tired of our bikes and on to our Strawberry Shortcake dolls and Care Bears, she'd be outside practicing so that she'd be ready for the training wheels to come off.
At the house where we lived at the time, there was a path along one side that led nowhere but a rather steep and rocky drop to the river that flowed in front o four house. One day, little Hope was out practicing on her bicycle. Bicycles were meant to go fast, in her opinion. She roared down the path... And forgot to use the brakes.
Of course, she fell off the bike before it went into the river. My mom found her sitting on the bank, crying.
Was she hurt? No, not really.
Was she scared? Sort of.
Why was she crying?
She was ticked off that her bike was in the river and she had to stop practicing!
After dinner, Dad fished her bike out of the river, and she hopped right back on like nothing had happened.
A few weeks later, the training wheels came off the bicycle. Unlike Kima and I, who both rode straight across the road and crashed into the bushes, Hope hopped right on that two-wheeled bike and rode perfectly.
Hope and Peter, I think your relationship has been similar to this little analogy. You fell off the bike once or twice while you were learning to ride, but you knew you had something great, so you kept working on it. You have always approached your relationship with the same determination and dedication as little Hope showed when she learned to ride a bike.
Today, the training wheels came off of your relationship, and I'm confident that you're going to be able to ride smoothly. So, here's my toast: "To riding without training wheels!"
P.S. Michael is working on the wedding pictures. They'll be up on his site as soon as possible, for those of you who are curious about the wedding ceremony. I was too distracted by the beauty of the ceremony (and my gorgeous little sister) to take any pictures of my own.
In our family, Hope is the youngest. This means that for her whole childhood, she worked as hard as she could to keep up with me and Kima. If we got roller skates, she wanted roller skates too--and never mind that she'd hardly learned to walk yet!
When she was about five years old, one of the things she desperately wanted was to be able to ride her little red bicycle without training wheels. Long after Kima and I had gone inside, tired of our bikes and on to our Strawberry Shortcake dolls and Care Bears, she'd be outside practicing so that she'd be ready for the training wheels to come off.
At the house where we lived at the time, there was a path along one side that led nowhere but a rather steep and rocky drop to the river that flowed in front o four house. One day, little Hope was out practicing on her bicycle. Bicycles were meant to go fast, in her opinion. She roared down the path... And forgot to use the brakes.
Of course, she fell off the bike before it went into the river. My mom found her sitting on the bank, crying.
Was she hurt? No, not really.
Was she scared? Sort of.
Why was she crying?
She was ticked off that her bike was in the river and she had to stop practicing!
After dinner, Dad fished her bike out of the river, and she hopped right back on like nothing had happened.
A few weeks later, the training wheels came off the bicycle. Unlike Kima and I, who both rode straight across the road and crashed into the bushes, Hope hopped right on that two-wheeled bike and rode perfectly.
Hope and Peter, I think your relationship has been similar to this little analogy. You fell off the bike once or twice while you were learning to ride, but you knew you had something great, so you kept working on it. You have always approached your relationship with the same determination and dedication as little Hope showed when she learned to ride a bike.
Today, the training wheels came off of your relationship, and I'm confident that you're going to be able to ride smoothly. So, here's my toast: "To riding without training wheels!"
P.S. Michael is working on the wedding pictures. They'll be up on his site as soon as possible, for those of you who are curious about the wedding ceremony. I was too distracted by the beauty of the ceremony (and my gorgeous little sister) to take any pictures of my own.
My Blessing for Hope's Wedding
Hope and Peter requested that each guest at their wedding prepare a short blessing or bit of advice for the couple. As the photographer, Michael was let off the hook. I, however, wracked my brains for a few weeks preparing my blessing for them. I thought the blessings from their friends and family were one of the best parts of the ceremony. While I can't recreate them all here for you, I can at least give you the text of my blessing:
When Hope was a very little girl, she and Kima and I shared a bedroom. Hope was scared of the dark. Well, to tell the truth, so were Kima and I, but we were far too grown up to protest. Hope, on the other hand, protested loudly enough that a night light was produced.
That small night light, christened "Mickey Glower" because of it's Mickey Mouse shape, comforted us through many scary nights with its soft orange glow.
Now, we're all grown up, and my little sister Hope is getting married today. My wish for Hope and Peter is that their relationship will be blessed with bright and happy days and comfortable and safe nights as they bask in the glow of their love for each other.
When Hope was a very little girl, she and Kima and I shared a bedroom. Hope was scared of the dark. Well, to tell the truth, so were Kima and I, but we were far too grown up to protest. Hope, on the other hand, protested loudly enough that a night light was produced.
That small night light, christened "Mickey Glower" because of it's Mickey Mouse shape, comforted us through many scary nights with its soft orange glow.
Now, we're all grown up, and my little sister Hope is getting married today. My wish for Hope and Peter is that their relationship will be blessed with bright and happy days and comfortable and safe nights as they bask in the glow of their love for each other.
Housing Update
Michael and I just toured the other apartment in our complex that's up for grabs, and we're going to take it. It's actually better arranged than our current apartment (and we thought this one was great). It's on the ground floor, so no stairs to fight with. It's close to both of the doors into the building, close to two parking lots, and on the same floor as the laundry facility and the storage lockers. It has better in-apartment storage areas, more closets, and newer appliances, not to mention that as I type this they're painting the walls and installing new carpet! The linoleum in the kitchen is even a better color and will match more of our stuff. The windows don't have a view of a cherry tree, but they do face a big maple tree and a gorgeous evergreen tree, and we won't be facing the front parking lot anymore, so people won't be constantly peeking in our front windows. We'll also be much closer to the new pool (it'll be right outside the front door--just walk down the hallway and jump in the pool, basically). In spite of the pain of moving (and I don't think this will be all that painful a move), I think we're really going to like the new apartment.
Hawaiian Sunset at Kona Airport
Hawaiian Sunset at Kona Airport
Originally uploaded by Prairie Brown
Hawaii gave us one last treat, right before we got on the plane to head home: the most beautiful sunset of the entire trip. Goodbye Hawaii! We had a great time!
Boy at Kona Airport
Boy at Kona Airport
Originally uploaded by Prairie Brown
We had a couple hours to kill at the airport after we returned our rental car, so we picked up informative coloring books with pictures of Hawaiian animals and plants and fish, and spent the time learning about all the things we'd seen on our trip (and coloring in a few pictures).
Boy at Crater Rim (Kilauea)
Boy at Crater Rim (Kilauea)
Originally uploaded by Prairie Brown
Berta, this photo is for you. I thought you'd appreciate the nice, floppy sun hat we found to keep Michael safe under the tropical sun. Isn't it great? (Michael has pictures of my new hat for you too.)
Boy and Turtle (Black Sand Beach)
Boy and Turtle (Black Sand Beach)
Originally uploaded by Prairie Brown
One of the things Michael most wanted to do while we were in Hawaii was to see a sea turtle, up close and personal. We encountered our first sea turtle at the Hilton in their fabricated lagoon. The turtles there are so used to people that it came right up to us and let us feed it leaves and pat it on the head!
Later in the trip, we had a chance to snorkel with wild sea turtles (Michael has pictures). On our last day, we stopped for a while at a black sand beach, and were thrilled to find a group of sea turtles basking in the sun on the beach. Michael flopped right down in the sand and got acquainted with one, as you can see.
Boy in Bed (at Our Cabin)
Boy in Bed (at Our Cabin)
Originally uploaded by Prairie Brown
On our first night in Volcanoes National Park, we found a campground immediately. When we got there, we had intended to set up our tent for the night, but we noticed a row of darling little cabins nestled in the woods on one side of the campground, and wondered how much it would cost us to rent one. Camping in the park is free with admission to the park, so we didn't think it would be too expensive to upgrade to a cabin, if one was available. We quickly found the Volcano House (the hotel in the park) and inquired about the cabins. Because it was a Thursday night, there turned out to be one cabin available for one night, for $50. We snapped it up, and were given bags containing sheets, blankets, pillows, along with towels and soap for the campground showers.
It turns out that the cabins are just as cute on the inside as they are on the outside, especially with the addition of the personalized touches we'd brought from home to make our camping trip comfortable (a Playboy bunny blanket for Michael and a Tootsie Pop blanket for me). We had a great night in the cabin, reading and giggling and really feeling like we were on vacation, and glad to be away from the Hilton where we'd spent the first couple nights of the trip.
In the morning, we headed for the campground showers, available to cabin customers. Much to our delight, the showers, while rustic in appearance, had more plentiful hot water and pressure that was more reliable than we'd had at the Hilton! On our way out, bemoaning the fact that it would be our last morning of hot showers since we'd be tent camping for the rest of the trip, we noticed a small sign announcing that tent campers could rent a key to the cabin showers for $3 a day. Deciding to splurge, we eagerly rented a shower key and enjoyed steamy showers for the remainder of the trip.
We were still on Seattle time, not having adjusted to Hawaiian time, and we were waking up at 5:30 every morning (felt like 8:30 to us). After finishing our showers that first morning, we snagged a prime campsite for our tent before any of the weekend campers arrived in the park, then set out to explore the park.
Coconut Syrup!
Coconut Syrup!
Originally uploaded by Prairie Brown
Here's the first batch of Hawaii pictures! You'll notice that I didn't take any pictures while we were at the resort. It just wasn't our sort of thing. The morning after the wedding, we went to the Kona airport to drop my dad off so he could head home. After that, we were faced with the decision to go back to the resort to eat breakfast at the huge buffet (for $30 per person) or to explore Kona a bit and find someplace for breakfast there. We chose to explore, thinking we'd eventually find a Denny's and get a reasonably priced breakfast.
We drove around for a while without any luck. Then, by random chance, while we were in an industrial park looking for a place to turn around, we saw a sign for the Blue Sky Cafe. Since we were hungry and sort of lost, we decided to give it a try. When we pulled up in front of the tiny restaurant surrounded by warehouses, we almost didn't go in. It looked like sort of a dive.
But we were hungry, and we hadn't seen anything else (other than Starbucks) that looked like it might have something for breakfast. We decided to give it a try. We opened the door and gaped in surprise. A small, gorgeous restaurant, beautifully decorated with tropical plants greeted us. After being greeted by a cheerful waitress, we chose seats next to the indoor waterfall and proceeded to order the best French toast either of us had ever eaten, served on a plate with an orchid.
The toast was made from Hawaiian sweet bread, which we both know that we like, and is difficult to find in Seattle. We later learned, when we found a Safeway to get the groceries for our camping trip, that in Hawaii, the bread aisle has a supplemental row, almost as long as the regular aisle, for this Hawaiian treat. Along with the toast came three pitchers of syrup: maple, strawberry, and coconut. Coconut? We were intrigued. We tried it on the corner of one piece of toast in case we didn't like it. It was so delicious that we were soon pouring it on the rest of our toast and devouring it. We asked the waitress where we could find it, and she replied that any grocery store in Hawaii would have it. (We found a bottle at Safeway, and it's tucked into our as yet unpacked luggage, waiting for us to decide to recreate our Hawaiian French toast.)
To anyone considering a trip to Hawaii, here's our advice: get off the beaten path! Avoid the big resorts. You'll have a better time, and you'll get much better food!
Home! (Less?)
Well, we got home yesterday from a wonderful trip to Hawaii. Hope's wedding was a huge success, and Michael and I had a great time in Volcanoes National Park. I'll write more about that later, but I wanted to post a few thoughts about our homecoming before I get to the vacation, because the homecoming was far more traumatic than the fun vacation.
Let's start with the disappointment on the job front. I should have heard from the interview committee while I was in Hawaii. Of course, no one called or emailed, and finally, on last Friday, convinced I wasn't part of the final interview group, I called the school to ask. It turned out that they hadn't selected the final interview group, and I was assured that the decision would be announced on Monday. Monday has come and gone, and now it's Tuesday morning, without so much as a hint of an announcement. I'm starting to wonder if I'm not in the final interview group. Would they tell me? I'd like to hope that they would. A couple people on the committee are people whom I consider friends, and all of them have been my colleagues for the past two years. I'd hope that they would let me know, and explain their decision. It would be simple professional courtesy. And basic communication. It's starting to feel like that might be too much to ask for. We'll see. I've stopped holding my breath, at any rate.
Now, on to the home front. Firstly, we'd requested that our landlords hold any packages that might be delivered for us while we were gone. I'd ordered a book and a movie from Amazon for Michael, and they should have been delivered while we were gone. We requested this because the mailboxes in this building are ridiculously small, and there was no way our mailbox would hold a book and a movie and a few day's worth of junk mail. Unfortunately, our mailman apparently decided to cram as much into the box as he could--including the movie, which Amazon's tracking department assures me was delivered on the 17th. By cramming the movie into the mailbox instead of taking it to the landlords as he should have, he rendered the mailbox incapable of closing. He just left it there, unlocked. When we returned, it had naturally been cleaned out by our less than scrupulous neighbors, and now one of the nasty thieving creeps we live with has the movie I ordered for Michael, and who knows what else of our mail. All of our financial information comes to us electronically, so there's not a major concern that the mail thieves took anything more than junk mail and the movie, but there's no real way of knowing what we lost. More importantly, there's no way of knowing which of our neighbors is a thief. I suspect the lunatic right down the hall from us, but it could be just about anyone. It's disconcerting to be living with mail thieves. We knew before that there was someone low enough to steal mail in the building when our Netflix movies started to disappear... Some days really make me hate people!
After discovering the mail theft, we were told by our landlords that because of the construction going on in our building, we're going to have to move. They're going to need to rip our apartment apart to fix all of the problems. They've offered to help us to move to another apartment in a different building of the complex. Naturally, I'm less than thrilled about this. I don't know if I'm going to need to be job searching in the next few weeks. I certainly wasn't planning to spend the last couple weeks of summer packing up and moving, even if it's just to a different building. Our landlords seem to think they're being nice by offering to let some of the scuzzy construction workers they've got working on the project help us move.
These are not exactly the sort of people I'd want to let know that we have nice computers and TVs. Besides, this apartment has been our home for the past two years, and I had thought it would continue to be our home for at least the next two years, while Michael is finishing school. I find it very disgusting of our landlords to expect us to be okay with just packing up and moving away from an apartment we've called home for the past two years. The sentimental value of the apartment alone is enough to make me really sad when I think about leaving. It's the first home Michael and I have shared. While I know that there will be many other homes in our future (not that we're planning to be nomatic--moving is just a part of life), this one will always be special because it was the first. I'm not sure I want to stay in this apartment complex, but I'm also feeling a little bit trapped, because we certainly don't have the time to put into a big hunt for a new place. I think we're stuck here, and we're going to have to make the best of it. Sigh.
And so, this has been the homecoming. I could potentially be unemployed and homeless by the end of the month. Okay, so that's a large exaggeration (I still have my teaching job and we've been offered a new apartment), but it doesn't feel so exaggerated right now, when I'm tired and upset about it!
Let's start with the disappointment on the job front. I should have heard from the interview committee while I was in Hawaii. Of course, no one called or emailed, and finally, on last Friday, convinced I wasn't part of the final interview group, I called the school to ask. It turned out that they hadn't selected the final interview group, and I was assured that the decision would be announced on Monday. Monday has come and gone, and now it's Tuesday morning, without so much as a hint of an announcement. I'm starting to wonder if I'm not in the final interview group. Would they tell me? I'd like to hope that they would. A couple people on the committee are people whom I consider friends, and all of them have been my colleagues for the past two years. I'd hope that they would let me know, and explain their decision. It would be simple professional courtesy. And basic communication. It's starting to feel like that might be too much to ask for. We'll see. I've stopped holding my breath, at any rate.
Now, on to the home front. Firstly, we'd requested that our landlords hold any packages that might be delivered for us while we were gone. I'd ordered a book and a movie from Amazon for Michael, and they should have been delivered while we were gone. We requested this because the mailboxes in this building are ridiculously small, and there was no way our mailbox would hold a book and a movie and a few day's worth of junk mail. Unfortunately, our mailman apparently decided to cram as much into the box as he could--including the movie, which Amazon's tracking department assures me was delivered on the 17th. By cramming the movie into the mailbox instead of taking it to the landlords as he should have, he rendered the mailbox incapable of closing. He just left it there, unlocked. When we returned, it had naturally been cleaned out by our less than scrupulous neighbors, and now one of the nasty thieving creeps we live with has the movie I ordered for Michael, and who knows what else of our mail. All of our financial information comes to us electronically, so there's not a major concern that the mail thieves took anything more than junk mail and the movie, but there's no real way of knowing what we lost. More importantly, there's no way of knowing which of our neighbors is a thief. I suspect the lunatic right down the hall from us, but it could be just about anyone. It's disconcerting to be living with mail thieves. We knew before that there was someone low enough to steal mail in the building when our Netflix movies started to disappear... Some days really make me hate people!
After discovering the mail theft, we were told by our landlords that because of the construction going on in our building, we're going to have to move. They're going to need to rip our apartment apart to fix all of the problems. They've offered to help us to move to another apartment in a different building of the complex. Naturally, I'm less than thrilled about this. I don't know if I'm going to need to be job searching in the next few weeks. I certainly wasn't planning to spend the last couple weeks of summer packing up and moving, even if it's just to a different building. Our landlords seem to think they're being nice by offering to let some of the scuzzy construction workers they've got working on the project help us move.
These are not exactly the sort of people I'd want to let know that we have nice computers and TVs. Besides, this apartment has been our home for the past two years, and I had thought it would continue to be our home for at least the next two years, while Michael is finishing school. I find it very disgusting of our landlords to expect us to be okay with just packing up and moving away from an apartment we've called home for the past two years. The sentimental value of the apartment alone is enough to make me really sad when I think about leaving. It's the first home Michael and I have shared. While I know that there will be many other homes in our future (not that we're planning to be nomatic--moving is just a part of life), this one will always be special because it was the first. I'm not sure I want to stay in this apartment complex, but I'm also feeling a little bit trapped, because we certainly don't have the time to put into a big hunt for a new place. I think we're stuck here, and we're going to have to make the best of it. Sigh.
And so, this has been the homecoming. I could potentially be unemployed and homeless by the end of the month. Okay, so that's a large exaggeration (I still have my teaching job and we've been offered a new apartment), but it doesn't feel so exaggerated right now, when I'm tired and upset about it!
Monday, August 13, 2007
Onward!
Today was my interview. I'm completely exhausted (it's HARD to talk about myself for that long!). Academic interviews are so difficult! It was me, in a room with a committee of eight people, and they fired questions at me for an hour and a half! But I made it through, and I feel like it went really well. I guess I'll find out sometime in the next few days if I made it to the next round of interviews!
Now, on to Hawaii! Michael and I just finished packing our bags. We'll need to make one quick stop at the school in the morning so that I can turn in my grades, and then we're off to the airport. Keep your fingers crossed that Flossie won't get any closer to the islands! Hawaii here we come!
And oof! Off to bed for me!
Now, on to Hawaii! Michael and I just finished packing our bags. We'll need to make one quick stop at the school in the morning so that I can turn in my grades, and then we're off to the airport. Keep your fingers crossed that Flossie won't get any closer to the islands! Hawaii here we come!
And oof! Off to bed for me!
Thursday, August 9, 2007
The Show That Almost Wasn't
On Tuesday night, after the horrible long day I'd had with the interview that I thought was lost and the ensuing change to our travel plans, when I got home from the writing center that afternoon, I was ready to crash and not move (preferably for at least two days, although I knew that wasn't a reality). I was starting to feel the stress of the interview growing inside me. I was also frantically trying to plan lessons for the substitute who will teach the last two days of my morning class (decided to let him show one of the Harry Potter movies, but I needed to write a worksheet to go along with it--gotta be educational about this, after all). So, all these things were floating around in my already exhausted little mind. Oh, I should also mention that I hadn't eaten all day. I got the phone call about the interview in the morning right before breakfast, used all the potential lunch time trying to fix the problem, and had been slammed with students in the writing center.
Michael and I had planned to go out to dinner to celebrate the interview, but when I got home and flopped on the bed in the guest room, face down in a pillow, Michael took one look at me, went and got the phone, and asked, "What do you want on your pizza?"
I mumbled something about pepperoni before burying my face in the pillow again. Half an hour later, the pizza arrived, and I emerged to the scent of bubbly cheese and spicy toppings. Michael popped in a disk of Star Trek (we finished Next Gen. and have moved on to Deep Space Nine, which I don't like quite as well, but it's still pretty good), and we sat down to eat.
We'd mostly finished our food, and the episode was reaching its end as well. The alien woman on the screen was babbling to her lover (who'd just had surgery and was waking up to find her at his bedside, when he'd thought she'd desert him), and saying that she'd always be by his side. Her voice reminded me on the voice of the Lady of the Lake from Spamalot, and I giggled and turned to Michael and whispered, "But you're not alone, Arthur. I've been with you all the time..." (or something like that).
Michael snickered, and we turned back to the show.
Then it clicked in my brain. Spamalot--tickets in October--going to Young Frankenstein this month--ohmygod! I turned to Michael again.
"It's TUESDAY!"
He looked blank.
"Don't we have tickets tonight? You know--Young Frankenstein?!"
He looked confused, then shook his head and stared at me with widening eyes.
"You're right! Oh crap! What time is the show?" he exclaimed as he raced to the office to find the tickets. "It's at 7:30!"
It was 6:30. We had an hour to get downtown, find parking, and get to our seats before the curtain rose for the opening night of Young Frankenstein.
Declaring, "No time to primp!" we dropped everything, abandoned the last couple pieces of pizza underneath the coffee table, and ran for the door. I was still in my work clothes, which while perfectly presentable for teaching, are not exactly appropriate opening night gear (the bright pink Converse really stood out in the crowd of heels). Fortunately for us, the traffic on I-5 was minimal, and we made it downtown with plenty of time to park, and with time to spare.
We got to the theater, showed out tickets, and were told, "Ah--third mezzanine--your tickets have been upgraded to the second mezzanine!"
That's right--a free upgrade in tickets! So we ended up about 20 rows closer to the stage than we'd thought we would be, for a show we nearly forgot we were going to see. We gratefully found our seats about ten minutes before the scheduled curtain-rising.
I assume everyone who reads my blog also reads Michael's, so you've already read his review of the show (and my opinions run along the same line as his), so I'm only going to say that the show is incredible and well worth the price of tickets (even if you forget you have them until the last second). We're still celebrating the miracle that is my quirky brain, which allowed us to make it to the show. I can't even begin to express how disappointed we'd have been to miss it!
Michael and I had planned to go out to dinner to celebrate the interview, but when I got home and flopped on the bed in the guest room, face down in a pillow, Michael took one look at me, went and got the phone, and asked, "What do you want on your pizza?"
I mumbled something about pepperoni before burying my face in the pillow again. Half an hour later, the pizza arrived, and I emerged to the scent of bubbly cheese and spicy toppings. Michael popped in a disk of Star Trek (we finished Next Gen. and have moved on to Deep Space Nine, which I don't like quite as well, but it's still pretty good), and we sat down to eat.
We'd mostly finished our food, and the episode was reaching its end as well. The alien woman on the screen was babbling to her lover (who'd just had surgery and was waking up to find her at his bedside, when he'd thought she'd desert him), and saying that she'd always be by his side. Her voice reminded me on the voice of the Lady of the Lake from Spamalot, and I giggled and turned to Michael and whispered, "But you're not alone, Arthur. I've been with you all the time..." (or something like that).
Michael snickered, and we turned back to the show.
Then it clicked in my brain. Spamalot--tickets in October--going to Young Frankenstein this month--ohmygod! I turned to Michael again.
"It's TUESDAY!"
He looked blank.
"Don't we have tickets tonight? You know--Young Frankenstein?!"
He looked confused, then shook his head and stared at me with widening eyes.
"You're right! Oh crap! What time is the show?" he exclaimed as he raced to the office to find the tickets. "It's at 7:30!"
It was 6:30. We had an hour to get downtown, find parking, and get to our seats before the curtain rose for the opening night of Young Frankenstein.
Declaring, "No time to primp!" we dropped everything, abandoned the last couple pieces of pizza underneath the coffee table, and ran for the door. I was still in my work clothes, which while perfectly presentable for teaching, are not exactly appropriate opening night gear (the bright pink Converse really stood out in the crowd of heels). Fortunately for us, the traffic on I-5 was minimal, and we made it downtown with plenty of time to park, and with time to spare.
We got to the theater, showed out tickets, and were told, "Ah--third mezzanine--your tickets have been upgraded to the second mezzanine!"
That's right--a free upgrade in tickets! So we ended up about 20 rows closer to the stage than we'd thought we would be, for a show we nearly forgot we were going to see. We gratefully found our seats about ten minutes before the scheduled curtain-rising.
I assume everyone who reads my blog also reads Michael's, so you've already read his review of the show (and my opinions run along the same line as his), so I'm only going to say that the show is incredible and well worth the price of tickets (even if you forget you have them until the last second). We're still celebrating the miracle that is my quirky brain, which allowed us to make it to the show. I can't even begin to express how disappointed we'd have been to miss it!
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Wedding Cake and Eating It Too
It turned out that it wasn't hard to change my airline ticket, even if the interview date couldn't be changed, so that I can do both activities! Hurray! I'll be able to have the interview on Monday, fly out on Tuesday, and make it to the wedding on Wednesday. Whew! It'll be exhausting, but it's possible. And I'll make it work!
Sick at Heart and Sad
I found out this morning that I'd been selected as a finalist for the position of the director of the Loft writing center. This should be cause for celebration, right?
Think again! The interviews are next week. That's right--during the same time we'll be in Hawaii for Hope's wedding. There's no flexibility in the interview schedule, and I don't get the job. And I really wanted it.
Life will go on, and there will be other jobs, but right now I'm mourning this one. Send me good vibe if you've got any, because I'm finding it really difficult to be cheerful right now.
Think again! The interviews are next week. That's right--during the same time we'll be in Hawaii for Hope's wedding. There's no flexibility in the interview schedule, and I don't get the job. And I really wanted it.
Life will go on, and there will be other jobs, but right now I'm mourning this one. Send me good vibe if you've got any, because I'm finding it really difficult to be cheerful right now.
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