New Room Update

I have been moved! My heart is broken... Rm. 4 is no longer mine... I have been relocated directly across from the principles office... I guess I can't throw signs to RF anymore=(. I will start moving in a little tomorrow and then get all my stuff up next week. My new theme is "Urban Jungle", any ideas?

Adventures… Sitting in a Room Full of Elementary Teachers?

So I got an email last week reminding me that my so cherished summer vacation is soon to come to an end. The email informed me that I was to attend a 5 day long training for a new intervention program I have been assigned to teach. It really is as dull as the first two sentences of my blog make it sound.

Predictable as ever, Miss Adams of course wakes up late on the first day. So I decide to throw on what I (but not my mother) deem appropriate training day attire: jeans and a black t-shirt. With the knowledge that my hair was not fully dry and I was wearing jeans…I snuck out of the house thus avoiding my mom yelling that I look, “like a student not a teacher and no matter how hot it is in Perris you can still catch pneumonia going out with wet hair”. No matter how old you are….

I can’t even tell you how fast I had to drive… but I made it and with 5 whole minutes to spare. Thus, taking a deep breath I walked into the small training room! It was packed, but immediately I noticed the lack of usually provided coffee and snacks (stupid budget cuts) not even coffee, I mean really how cheap can you be? Anyway…I take a seat at a table where one middle aged woman is sitting alone. I despite having no coffee tried to be polite and introduced myself. She just looked at me, and said “Oh, okay” and turned away. Another lady joins our table, and then another, and then another, and then another. With each new arrival I introduced myself and get the same response. But they all appear to know each other and happily talk to one another about how awful last years kids were and how they were all going to end up at “The Lake”. I stay quiet, realizing that there is no where for me to move to… and wondering where these teachers are from… I’ve never seen them before… they clearly don’t know I’m from “The Lake”…

And then it comes, as it always comes… the thumb ball. Oh, you don’t know what that is! Let me enlighten you. A thumb ball is an ancient torture technique used by teachers around the world to humiliate students. Okay, so not really… it’s actually just a stupid soft ball we throw around the room to get answers from kids. It is kind of like pulling names. But, it never ceases to amaze me that they make us do this at teacher meetings. Do I really need to have a stupid ball thrown to me for me to know I can speak? Does the instructor think that just because I work with kids I have some how lost my ability to be an adult? And then comes in the factor, can you catch? It is my worst nightmare to miss catching the thumb ball and fall out of my seat, and yes I have seen that happen! Now what is the question we are being forced to answer you ask. Name, rank and serial number! The other sites are enemy territory, say nothing to implicate your site of anything other than grandeur. So finally the thumb ball is mine (didn’t drop it, rock on!). “Denise Adams, 11^th grade English, ummmm…. The Lake…” and then I threw the ball as fast as I could. My table turns… they know… I’m a teacher at “The Lake”…

Come to find out, I’m sitting at a table of elementary school teachers. It is important to know that elementary and high school teachers are fundamentally different. And it really comes down to one major factor. They wonder how we can deal with kids talking back to us and we wonder how they can handle kids peeing on themselves.

Summer Vacation # 3: School Supplies, Starbucks at the Gym… and a Shout-out to the Lone Salsa Dancer…

I went shopping today, and how proud of me are you??? I did not buy a single pair of shoes! Instead I bought SCHOOL SUPPLIES. Yes, that time of year is coming. The smell of freshly sharpened pencils, the buzz of kids running around, it is all less than a month away. The only real thing that I am dreading about the up coming school year is of course the ungodly hour at which I will have to start my day. It is oh so nice to wake up at a beautiful hour of 8 AM versus my normal 4:30 AM, make my way to the local gym and fight for machines with mobs of stay at home moms and an odd mixture of old people. Ah yes, the 8 AM crowd is a breed all its own. They try and talk to you… I’m used to people communicating via grunting at 4:30 AM. It is an unspoken (literally) rule which we all follow. Because, dude if I have my head phones in that should tell you I don’t want to talk. I mean really! I’m trying to run. Who can run at 7 mph and talk at the same time? Apparently I am the only person unable to complete this form of multi tasking. But what really kills me are the people who bring Starbucks to the gym. Is it just me, or does that not defeat the purpose of going to the gym? Do they not realize that the venti caramel frap that they just drank would take them 4 grueling hours with Jose in the cycling class to burn off? The thought of 1 hour of cycling with Jose is enough to keep me clear of Jell-O, let alone something dowsed in caramel. But really, the worst of the worst are the girls who wear makeup to the gym. I’ll be honest, half the time I don’t even match at the gym. The people at the gym should be glad a brush my teeth! But makeup, really that is just too much to ask! And what really bugs me is that these girls just sit on machines and never work out. “Why?” you ask. Simple, they don’t want to mess up their makeup. But in the midst of my irritation with the guy next to me on the treadmill trying to talk to me as I listen to rave techno and the girl on the other side of me (just standing there looking at herself in the mirror instead of even walking on the treadmill), there is one thing that brings a smile to my face… the dancing man. Yes, there is a guy who salsa dances in between reps. The lone salsa dancer, he doesn’t care who is watching, he doesn’t care if they are playing T.I. or Lady Gaga, he is still doing the Cuban shuffle with a twist of salsa. Amazingly no one tries to talk to him at the gym… maybe I should bring some Celia Cruz and bust a move between my reps…

July 11th…

Pablo Neruda once wrote a poem about a dear friend of his that had died, and though I myself had not yet experienced such a loss the first time I read the poem, I felt a deep pain in my heart for him. I could not imagine living through such a loss. To go on without such a principal in my life, I simply could not. But as time would come to tell, I was very wrong about myself. Just two short years after reading that poem, I lost just such a friend. The pain that I felt when I read Neruda’s poem was engulfed by an understanding of injustice and anger and devastation. And though it has been many years, the pain has never fully gone away. It is as if my heart knows the day even before my memory has brought it to mind. I could not seem to stop crying for some reason today, and then I realized, tomorrow is the day. July 11^th is here again for the seventh time, and my heart is still broken, because as Neruda says, “I write these words down in my book, thinking that this naked farewell, with him not present, this simple letter, which cannot be answered, is nothing more than dust, cloud, ink and words and the only truth is that my friend is dead”.

C.O.S.C. by Pablo Neruda

HA MUERTO este mi amigo que se llamaba carlos,

no importa quién, no pregunten, no saben,

tenía la bondad del buen pan en la mesa

y un aire melancólico de caballero herido.

no es él y es él, es todo, es la muerte que toca

la puerta,

de puro bueno salió a abrirle carlos,

y entre tantos que abrieron esa noche la puerta

él solo quedó afuera,

él entre tantos hombres ahora ya no vuelve.

y su ausencia me hiere como si me llamara,

como si continuara en la sombra esperándome.

yo si hubiera escogido para este fin de un día

un dolor entre tantos que me acechan

no hubiera separado de la noche su rostro,

injustamente hubiera pasado sin recuerdo,

sin nombrarlo, y así no hubiera muerto

para mí, su cabeza continuaría gris

y sus tranquilos ojos que ahora ya no miran

seguirían abiertos en las torres de méxico.

de la muerte olvidar el más reciente ramo,

desconocer el rumbo, la proa o la bodega

en que mi amigo viaja solo o amontonado

y a esta hora creerlo aún dueño del día,

aún dueño de aquella claridad sonriente

que repartió entre tantas tareas y personas.

escribo estas palabras en mi libro pensando

que este desnudo adiós en que no está presente,

esta carta sencilla que no tiene respuesta,

no es nada sino polvo, nube, tinta, palabras

y la única verdad es que mi amigo ha muerto.

Summer Vacation # 2: Running into students…and a special congratulations!

It finally happened for the first time this year. There I was driving down the street, and as I turn to my left I recognize the teenage boy in the truck next to me. “WAIT!” I yell to my mom in the passenger seat, “that’s my kid”. And like a complete dork I start waving. My mom remarks, “Your kid, what are you talking about?”.

It is a funny way to refer to them, “My kids…”; at the very least my students are old enough to be siblings or relatives. Despite the age difference, it amazes me how much like my own children they are. I feed them, in some cases (when they are breaking dress code) I clothe them, I give them shelter (I leave my room open at lunch)… the list of basics could go on, but really I share their triumphs and the failures, their heartbreaks and their troubles. But in seeing my student today, I was overcome with joy, not because of which student it was, rather what he represents. I am often reminded by friends and family that I work with gang members, drug addicts, and other forms of “challenging” kids. But what they often forget is that they are also students whose talents and intellect have gone unnoticed and unchallenged because of society’s inability to see past the exterior.

The student I waved so enthusiastically to today is one such student, a known gang member. It was nice not just to see him, but for the first time to see him in a situation where he was just a kid, driving with his dad talking and smiling. We often forget that all of the labels that we put on these “challenging” students diminish the label that should be recognized first. They are kids, they are our kids and we need to remember that we make them who they are. And we have the responsibility to step up and make a change. Because, if we don’t step up, we have no right to complain about what we allow them to become.

The kids I work with impress me everyday. They are the spice of my life, they are my adventure everyday. Not all of them are gang members, many have never touched drugs, and they are challenged in different ways. They have taught me what it really means to earn respect and be brave when everyone seems to be against you.

So I want to say a very special congratulation to a student who is a high school student no more. Anthony, your accomplishment came with so much effort. I know you thought you wouldn’t make it at times, but that just makes graduation so much more fulfilling. The greatest things in life come with hard work and they are sweetest when you gave it your all. I am so proud of you! You did this on your own, and you will continue to do many more great things, because you have proved to everyone (including yourself) that you can.

English Teacher on Vacation…. Subtitles make me feel like I’ve accomplished more that just watching 16 hours of T.V.

I know you all think that English teachers sit around reading all summer long. Indulging in Tolstoy, Dickens, and when we are feeling wild we pull out our copy of “Gang Days in L.A.” by Rodriguez. ButI will be the first to tell you that you my dear friends are wrong. READING! Ha! Forget that crap, I am glued to my computer watching Korean dramas. They are tela novelas to the hundredth power. Every stinking one is the same story retold with a different actors (but amazingly using the same movie set). There is always a love triangle. There is always a mid drama hairdo change for the main cast. There is always at least 2 episodes where a character nearly kills themselves because they have been rejected by someone that they will of course marry in another 2 episodes. But there is the ultimate Korean drama… the… historical drama. No other drama can truly compare to these. They are full of great Korean heroes, passionate love stories and of course they end so happily. Okay, so maybe I lied a little about the last part… they don’t really end happily. In truth everyone dies that the end. You know this from the beginning, all Korean historical dramas end like the Titanic, death! And yet, we still watch them, hoping that just once, the characters that we have spent so much time (in some cases 70 or more hours) loving will survive. But the answer is always no. It is like no one in Korea lived anything but a tragedy 500 years ago. Give me a break! Every single person that lived was sucked into some horrible love triangle, while running for their life because their brother (who they don’t even know is their brother) is trying to keep them from being able to stake a claim on the thrown they don’t even know they are somehow the 12^th person in line for. But you can’t stop watching… your not even Korean, but you are sucked into a story that you know will end bad and you still can’t walk away from it…

Today's Lesson: The Hemingway Challenge

Hemingway once challenged his associates to write a story using just 6 words. He penned the words, "For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn". Amazing how 6 little words can have so many meanings and carry so much emotion. As a challenge a friend asked me to take part in this little challenge. So here are a few of the stories I came up with. Mind you that none come anywhere near Hemingway.

“You voted me off the lifeboat!”

“Is being called thugalishous a compliment?”

WOW! What is the age difference?

I’m sorry now, I walked away.

Sown clothes. Tattered shoes. First day.

People gathering, “What’s happening over there?”

I hid it in a box.

Senior fails economic. Art scholarship lost.

Glistening ring. Bended knee. Answer: “No”.

Shots fired. Teen killed. Retaliation expected.

Under the willow I wait, hopeful.

Unexpectedly the zephyr came and went.

Saying “Hello”, I take your hand.

Today's Lesson: Disappointment...

This is a special shout out to my students! I LOVE and MISS you all (minus of course Tinker Bell) I just want to give a piece of Adams' advice. Don’t tell me to check out your web pages if you are getting messages about thizzle. I know what that is and I just want to say that I am really disappointed. And remember P.O.s check that crap.