How Sweet It Is

I am brimming with happiness.

It is Friday, early spring, the sun is shining, and the whole weekend still awaits.

The Story of Us

It's all about timing. Everything is.

I know that sounds kind of general but I honestly believe so much of what happens that impacts us depends on where we are in our lives when we experience it. The songs that mean the most to me are important because they bring back memories of certain times in my life. My favorite books have themes that I connected with because that is what I happened to be experiencing at that time. That is one of the reasons I can read the same book a hundred times. It means something different to me depending on how I am feeling when I read it...I guess this is sort of a disclaimer because I am about to admit that one of my all time favorite movies is, 'The Story of Us' with Bruce Willis and Michelle Pfeiffer.

When I first saw this movie, Dan and I were - how should I put this - "rocky." I knew we would end up together but it seemed like we were fighting more than we were laughing. I didn't know if I should walk away or hold on. I didn't know anything. Long story short: This movie helped.

One of my favorite parts of the movie is a little tradition that Dan and I have semi-worked in to our lives. It's called "High-Low." Every night, at the dinner table, they would ask each other what the best part of their day was (the high) and what the worst part was (low). It helped get conversation started and kept the family from hiding within themselves. I love this idea and sometimes, before bed, Dan and I will play. I am going to start incorporating this little game into my blog.

High: Liana (a girl in my class) writing an essay about me and how I have positively influenced her community.

Low: Drinking two cups of coffee instead of one and feeling like I was going to poop my pants during class.

We Shall Overcome

We have our first club-sponsored event coming up. Although GSA has been a club for only a few months, we have been working really hard to host "The Day of Silence" on April 17th. On Saturday, we met at school to assemble buttons, create posters, and share the morning together. Because we want our kids to understand the importance of peaceful protest, we created a short lesson on Martin Luther King Jr. and what he was able to help accomplish through anti-violent tactics. We had it all planned out.

If there is one thing I have learned about planning, it's that no plan goes exactly as anticipated. We started the morning with an "ice-breaker." As a group, we stood in a circle and said something that was true about ourself. If others in the group found it was also true about themselves, they stepped inside the circle. Another person would shout out something else and the game would continue. At 7:30 am on Saturday, everyone was tired and looking rather sheepish. I started the game by saying, "I am realllllly sleepy." Everyone laughed and jumped in the circle. See, we all have SOMETHING in common. Sure, it's the fact that we are tired, but it still reflects a common ground. Colene went next. "I love Asian food." Most kids took a step inside the circle. Some made faces and laughed. This was good. The game went on and on: I want to go to college. I have a brother. My favorite show is LOST. I hate reading. I am gay. I am competitive. And just like that it was out there. No sneers at those brave enough to step inside the circle (3 girls) to admit to the group they were gay. It casually flowed along between favorite colors and best movies. Interesting. Refreshing.

There was a lesson on the first amendment and some background on peaceful protest. I played a short podcast on the history of the civil rights movement and how non-violence played a pivotal role in bringing segregation to an end (legally, anyway). The kids were into it. We were into it. Before we started the fun stuff (poster paints and button making machines) we thought it would be a good idea to end our lesson with a children's book about Martin Luther King, Jr. It was simple and to the point - yet very powerful.

Trish, a fellow teacher, began reading the book and the silence was deafening. The kids eagerly stretched their necks to see the pictures and sat quietly to hear the story. She read about MLK as a young child. How he grew up in a family committed to activism and how his father helped him get involved in the struggle for true freedom. There is a part in the book, where the community sings together to urge each other on. "We shall overcome..." Trish was singing. And she sang and sang and her voice was not only clear and strong, but also moving. I looked around at the kids - and bit my lip to fight the tears. A room full of the bravest teenagers I have known listening to their teacher sing about a struggle - their struggle. It was hard but Trish held it together and continued reading. She read about his dreams (and parts from his speech) and how people gathered from all over to march together. Then, she read about his assassination and that is when she stopped. At first, she tried to choke back the tears and continue on but her voice continued to crack and she just could not read any further. She apologized to the class and set the book down. The kids looked to me for help, but I, too, was crying.

We hadn't planned for this. Two teachers in tears and a roomful of teenagers waiting. And waiting.

And then a clap. And another clap. And the whole class began to clap and yell out, "We love you, guys!"

Eventually, Trish and I pulled it together and were able to have a successful Saturday. We finished making all the buttons and made over 50 posters. When we told the kids it was time to clean up, one kid asked if we could play a revised game of the initial ice-breaker. Sure, why not?

He stood up and said, "Raise your hand if you are proud of what we did today." All hands up.

This morning, when I got to work I had this e-mail waiting for me. It is from the club president, Colene:

I am so happy that we had a good turn out today. I am also really happy that we dicussed Martin Luther King Jr. for his dream is now our dream. Thank you soo much advisors for doing all this stuff for us officers you guys are like the greatest!

Much love!

-Colene

Mission: Accomplished.

A Wrinkle in Time

One of the reasons I like writing is because it captures an otherwise fleeting feeling and preserves it forever. I can look back and reread something I wrote and live that moment once again. Writing, however, can also be disingenuous. It is invigorating to relive those instances that we want to hold on to. We pour our hearts into finding exactly the right words. We set a mood and reel our readers in with careful metaphors and clever alliteration. Our cadence is intentionally melodic and we write as if we are dancing. We are artists.

But, in the blogging world, is it coincidental that we are always inspired? That every simple, mundane moment, to us, is a celebration of what it feels like to be alive. Writing is like any other sort of escape: We focus on what makes us happy and kindly and politely sweep the rest under the rug.

On Saturday, for the first time, I purchased cream to help erase eye wrinkles. I have racked by brain to try and find the positive side: I am older, yet wiser. I have earned these wrinkles and they prove to the world that I know who I am. I am an adult.

Poetic and figurative language aside: wrinkles suck. They suck even more when they are brought to your attention by a student who finds the need to TELL you that it's weird you have wrinkles when you aren't even thirty yet. It took everything in me not to remind him that his face wasn't exactly "clear." Yes, I have wrinkles. No, there is nothing wonderfully inspiring about this. Cross your fingers and hope that this freaking cream works. If not, $30 - down the drain.

Imagine That

"The cool, crisp sky is an unnaturally stark contrast to the fuzzy, moss covered rock. The warmth of the sun makes being alone feel less lonely. This church, a massive tribute of stone and architectural genius, a feat of time and past civilizations, seems to have grown here along with the pine and oak. It seems to belong here. The wooden bench, the stone church, the tiny white flowers, the intrusive grotesque weeds, remind me that I am very small. They remind me that I do not know who I really am. In this country so far from my own, I am reminded of home. Of a meadow in a park on a trip with a man I thought I loved."

I miss writing. I have been so busy with school and moving, with grading and organizing that I have not set aside time to gather my thoughts and put them down on paper. I miss it. On Saturday morning I attended a conference at UCSD that focused on fun, creative activities to get kids excited about writing. They passed out a stack of photographs and you had to choose one that "meant something to you." Once you chose a photograph you had to turn to a partner and explain why you chose that particular picture and what it meant to you. I had picked a photograph of Balboa Park and explained that it reminded me of summer afternoons with Dan. Of picnics and theatre and cheese and wine and children playing and summer. It made me feel peaceful and calm. My partner had chosen a picture of a church in the middle of a foreign country and she liked the gothic architecture and the tiny wooden bench. It made her feel reflective and inquistivie.

Next, we had to switch pictures and write a paragraph from our partner's point of view. So, she wrote about an afternoon in Balboa park with Dan and I wrote about a stone church in a foreigh country. We had to begin with what our partner said and then follow where our imaginations took us. I only wrote a few lines (as seen above) but it stirred something deep inside of me that I have been aching for: the time to write.

Writing helps me understand myself. Sometimes, I don't even know how I feel until I try to verbalize it. So by writing down my goal of writing, I hope I can do it more often. Between staff meetings and grading essays, painting the living room and pulling weeds, I vow to reflect upon my day and - as Jason the bachelor so eloquently put it - "follow my heart." (That was for you, Dad) ;)