Sunday, January 30, 2011
Fridge magnet fun
Zadie likes to put the fridge magnet letters together and ask what they spell. It's all nonsense, like plxrd and djimon honsou. She had done a bunch in a row the other day, and I got down there to make some that were actually words. We don't have all the letters (she hides them), so I made the few I could find the letters for. First I made "wet" and then "pal." She added an S to pal and asked what it said. I said "Oh, well that's actually still a word. It's pals!" Then she added a Y and asked what it said. I said "Oh, you know, that's actually a word, too. Palsy." And that is how our fridge came to say "wet palsy."
The end of Japan week.
Well, we had a few more Japanese-oriented activities. We made origami. I found some very easy patterns, and I did the folding but had her press down the seams.
This is a dog.
In action.
We also made mochi. It was really easy -- I found a microwave mochi recipe, and Zadie picked the color and added the food coloring. I formed most of the balls while Z played with it like Play-Dough. That is to say, if they look goobery, it's all my fault.
Some are stuffed with crunchy peanut butter and honey, I added chocolate chips to a few of those, and Sweetie wanted some with tomato jam. When she tasted a piece, she announced "oishii!" It means delicious in Japanese. Cool, right?
On Friday we made sushi. Making it at home has disadvantages, like that you don't have quite the same variety of ingredients (no eel for Sweetie), and that if you want all the accoutrements like miso soup and edamame, that's extra work. (I did make edamame, but not miso). My rolls are also much messier than the rolls the sushi chefs make. For example, I just can't do that avocado-slicing thing they do. On the other hand, there are distinct benefits, too. I love umeboshi, for example, and our favorite sushi joint doesn't have it. Same with mango -- Tower Cafe used to make a mango, avocado, and pickled ginger roll, and it's still one of my favorite flavor combinations, but you really can't get that in a restaurant. Anyway, we had a tasty dinner. Zadie loves sushi, too, but she's crazy nutballs for edamame.
Last night I made udon. At first, it didn't seem like she was really eating it, but the noodles slowly but surely disappeared, so I would ultimately say that was a hit, too.
The big revelation has been the DVD I bought. I think I mentioned that she loved the Little Travelers video about Iran. It's two young sisters who travel with their parents and narrate their experiences. They have videos about Bali and the British Isles as well. Anyway, we got the Japan one on Tuesday, and as of this morning, I think she has watched it six times. She wants to pretend to be the younger sister, Nakia, all the time. She was even thrilled to go to the store by bike yesterday, because that's what the Little Travelers do.
And I think that's it for Japan, other than that we may go hear my friend Brian speak at the Buddhist temple in February. Also, there was one craft project we didn't have time for that looked simple and fun (making a carp kite), so we may do that sometime as well.
This is a dog.
In action.
We also made mochi. It was really easy -- I found a microwave mochi recipe, and Zadie picked the color and added the food coloring. I formed most of the balls while Z played with it like Play-Dough. That is to say, if they look goobery, it's all my fault.
Some are stuffed with crunchy peanut butter and honey, I added chocolate chips to a few of those, and Sweetie wanted some with tomato jam. When she tasted a piece, she announced "oishii!" It means delicious in Japanese. Cool, right?
On Friday we made sushi. Making it at home has disadvantages, like that you don't have quite the same variety of ingredients (no eel for Sweetie), and that if you want all the accoutrements like miso soup and edamame, that's extra work. (I did make edamame, but not miso). My rolls are also much messier than the rolls the sushi chefs make. For example, I just can't do that avocado-slicing thing they do. On the other hand, there are distinct benefits, too. I love umeboshi, for example, and our favorite sushi joint doesn't have it. Same with mango -- Tower Cafe used to make a mango, avocado, and pickled ginger roll, and it's still one of my favorite flavor combinations, but you really can't get that in a restaurant. Anyway, we had a tasty dinner. Zadie loves sushi, too, but she's crazy nutballs for edamame.
Last night I made udon. At first, it didn't seem like she was really eating it, but the noodles slowly but surely disappeared, so I would ultimately say that was a hit, too.
The big revelation has been the DVD I bought. I think I mentioned that she loved the Little Travelers video about Iran. It's two young sisters who travel with their parents and narrate their experiences. They have videos about Bali and the British Isles as well. Anyway, we got the Japan one on Tuesday, and as of this morning, I think she has watched it six times. She wants to pretend to be the younger sister, Nakia, all the time. She was even thrilled to go to the store by bike yesterday, because that's what the Little Travelers do.
And I think that's it for Japan, other than that we may go hear my friend Brian speak at the Buddhist temple in February. Also, there was one craft project we didn't have time for that looked simple and fun (making a carp kite), so we may do that sometime as well.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Vintage fashion week and one fashion disaster.
So just for fun, I decided to wear all vintage this week. Looking at my wardrobe, I have enough for two or three weeks of winter clothes, so we'll see how long I go. I forgot to take a picture Monday, but here's the rest of the week.
Tuesday.
I found this one at a thrift store, and I love it. It's one of my nicest day dresses. It also fits really well. A neighbor asked, "do you always dress this nicely for work?" Ha! No.
Wednesday.
Clearly I am going to have to learn to focus the camera when using the timer. Anyway, this is another thrift store find. I think it was $5. It's a teeny bit tight, but probably only noticeable to me.
Thursday.
Love this dress. I feel a bit like a Bond girl, but it's still long enough to be appropriate for work. I know you can't see the detail, but it's got nice seams. I can't remember whether this was one of my grandmother's or a thrift store find.
Friday.
Geez, does the focus get worse every day? Anyway, here is a story for you. This one came from my grandmother, but I know that some of the clothes I've gotten from her over the years have been my aunt's, too, and I wasn't sure whose this was. Both are 6 inches shorter than I am, so their maxi dresses are mid-calf on me, and their mini-dresses are illegal. Still, they have fabulous crazy 70s prints, and I love them. I hadn't worn this one, because the seam on one of the arms had come apart. But the other day, I sewed it back together. I checked for other areas where the seam had torn, and there were none (cue ominous foreshadowing music).
As I was sewing it, I noticed that although I had thought it was handmade, it had a Lane Bryant tag sewn in. It also had distinct hallmarks of hand-sewn items, like notches cut into the curves. Anyway, that's a mystery that has yet to be solved. I put it on this morning, felt super-fabulous, and went to work. On Friday mornings, I give high-fives to my co-workers, and as I left one of the classrooms, my friend shouted out to me. Then she quietly asked whether I knew there was a rip in my dress. No, I didn't. I looked down expecting a small hole under the armpit, which is where seams often give out. There was a tear there for sure... and it went all the way to my hip. I could see my tights. I put my high-five arm down, pressed it against my side, and hurried back to my room to put a fleece sweater on.
Later that day, I felt a tug on my skirt and realized it had gotten caught on my boot zipper. I looked down to free it, and saw that the ENTIRE SEAM HAD DISINTEGRATED. And so had the other side. I was wearing a dress that was essentially split from the armpit to the hem on both sides. And when I say disintegrated, I mean there was integration, and den dere was dis:
Luckily, I had been cold in the morning, so I had a jacket as well as the fleece, and I made a quick-change so that I had the jacket on top and the fleece tied around my waist. Naturally, I then had to make excuses for about four errands that people wanted me to run around campus. Yeah. The perils of vintage clothing. Vanishing thread. Fuck.
Tuesday.
I found this one at a thrift store, and I love it. It's one of my nicest day dresses. It also fits really well. A neighbor asked, "do you always dress this nicely for work?" Ha! No.
Wednesday.
Clearly I am going to have to learn to focus the camera when using the timer. Anyway, this is another thrift store find. I think it was $5. It's a teeny bit tight, but probably only noticeable to me.
Thursday.
Love this dress. I feel a bit like a Bond girl, but it's still long enough to be appropriate for work. I know you can't see the detail, but it's got nice seams. I can't remember whether this was one of my grandmother's or a thrift store find.
Friday.
Geez, does the focus get worse every day? Anyway, here is a story for you. This one came from my grandmother, but I know that some of the clothes I've gotten from her over the years have been my aunt's, too, and I wasn't sure whose this was. Both are 6 inches shorter than I am, so their maxi dresses are mid-calf on me, and their mini-dresses are illegal. Still, they have fabulous crazy 70s prints, and I love them. I hadn't worn this one, because the seam on one of the arms had come apart. But the other day, I sewed it back together. I checked for other areas where the seam had torn, and there were none (cue ominous foreshadowing music).
As I was sewing it, I noticed that although I had thought it was handmade, it had a Lane Bryant tag sewn in. It also had distinct hallmarks of hand-sewn items, like notches cut into the curves. Anyway, that's a mystery that has yet to be solved. I put it on this morning, felt super-fabulous, and went to work. On Friday mornings, I give high-fives to my co-workers, and as I left one of the classrooms, my friend shouted out to me. Then she quietly asked whether I knew there was a rip in my dress. No, I didn't. I looked down expecting a small hole under the armpit, which is where seams often give out. There was a tear there for sure... and it went all the way to my hip. I could see my tights. I put my high-five arm down, pressed it against my side, and hurried back to my room to put a fleece sweater on.
Later that day, I felt a tug on my skirt and realized it had gotten caught on my boot zipper. I looked down to free it, and saw that the ENTIRE SEAM HAD DISINTEGRATED. And so had the other side. I was wearing a dress that was essentially split from the armpit to the hem on both sides. And when I say disintegrated, I mean there was integration, and den dere was dis:
Luckily, I had been cold in the morning, so I had a jacket as well as the fleece, and I made a quick-change so that I had the jacket on top and the fleece tied around my waist. Naturally, I then had to make excuses for about four errands that people wanted me to run around campus. Yeah. The perils of vintage clothing. Vanishing thread. Fuck.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Japan week continues
We've been having fun learning about Japan. I made soba noodle salad on Tuesday. I'm sorry if you have a picky eater, but I have to tell you -- Zadie was cracking me up. She kept sneaking into the kitchen, taking broccoli and asparagus off the cutting board, and running away laughing. I was like, "Are you stealing veggies, naughty girl?" But, you know, I'm totally supportive of veggie-snitching. She also had two helpings of the buckwheat noodle salad, which had a dressing made primarily of flaxseed oil. Yay for not-picky eaters!
Yesterday we met Sweetie at the library and checked out six books. Some are fiction, and some are along the lines of "life in Tokyo." We read one of the books by Allen Say, Tea with Milk, and I totally cried at the end. We also got a new DVD of the Little Travelers. We have had Iran for a while, but we bought Japan. It's really good! Zadie has watched it three times, and we've watched all the bonus features, too.
We have yet to make mochi, although that's in the works. I also still plan to make sushi and udon, but then I think we're about done.
On another topic, last year at the end of the school year, I declared it "vintage fashion week" and wore my summery cotton dresses for a week (I may have added a day or two the next week as well). It was fun, but when I was doing it, I thought that I might have enough winter dresses to do a winter vintage fashion week as well. Heck, not only do I, I have enough for two weeks! And if you will count vintage tops or skirt with jeans or sweaters, then I think I could make it three weeks! I'm taking pictures, but I am too lazy to post them now. This weekend, okay?
Yesterday we met Sweetie at the library and checked out six books. Some are fiction, and some are along the lines of "life in Tokyo." We read one of the books by Allen Say, Tea with Milk, and I totally cried at the end. We also got a new DVD of the Little Travelers. We have had Iran for a while, but we bought Japan. It's really good! Zadie has watched it three times, and we've watched all the bonus features, too.
We have yet to make mochi, although that's in the works. I also still plan to make sushi and udon, but then I think we're about done.
On another topic, last year at the end of the school year, I declared it "vintage fashion week" and wore my summery cotton dresses for a week (I may have added a day or two the next week as well). It was fun, but when I was doing it, I thought that I might have enough winter dresses to do a winter vintage fashion week as well. Heck, not only do I, I have enough for two weeks! And if you will count vintage tops or skirt with jeans or sweaters, then I think I could make it three weeks! I'm taking pictures, but I am too lazy to post them now. This weekend, okay?
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Moffles
We didn't do anything super-Japanesey today, although we did make mochi waffles this morning. I used to make mochi for myself regularly, but it's got an odd texture, so I don't make it for R and Z usually (in fact, I don't think I ever have). But I ran across a recipe for mochi waffles, which basically involves toasting the mochi (pounded, dried cooked rice) in a waffle iron. I thought it was good, but it was not a hit with the family.
I printed out some coloring pages, and we looked up how to write "Azadeh" in Japanese. We also made a cherry blossom picture.
She didn't have a nap today, so she was pretty cranky this evening, but we had a good dinner at Celestin's and she's asleep now.
Hope you're all well. Kon ban wa!
I printed out some coloring pages, and we looked up how to write "Azadeh" in Japanese. We also made a cherry blossom picture.
She didn't have a nap today, so she was pretty cranky this evening, but we had a good dinner at Celestin's and she's asleep now.
Hope you're all well. Kon ban wa!
Boyfriend
While we are driving past the gym, Zadie asks if we have to go there. I said no, and I explained that she hadn't seemed to want to go there recently, which is fine. When she's ready to go back, her friends will be there.
"Like Eleanor and Natalia?"
"Yep, they're usually there on Sunday mornings."
"And Noah?"
"Yep."
"Mary says Noah's a boy."
"He is."
"But girls and boys don't play together."
"What? That's a funny idea. I've never heard of that. Did someone say that?"
"No."
"Oh, okay. But boys and girls do play together."
"I want to be boyfriend and girlfriend."
"Hmm, what does that mean?"
"I don't know."
"Okay. Well, who will be the girlfriend?"
"Me!"
"And who will be the boyfriend?"
"Uhhh... Daddy!"
"Okay. Well, you'd better tell Daddy about that."
[A few minutes later, we walk in the door, and she marches to her Dad's office.]
"You're! My! Boyfriend!"
"Like Eleanor and Natalia?"
"Yep, they're usually there on Sunday mornings."
"And Noah?"
"Yep."
"Mary says Noah's a boy."
"He is."
"But girls and boys don't play together."
"What? That's a funny idea. I've never heard of that. Did someone say that?"
"No."
"Oh, okay. But boys and girls do play together."
"I want to be boyfriend and girlfriend."
"Hmm, what does that mean?"
"I don't know."
"Okay. Well, who will be the girlfriend?"
"Me!"
"And who will be the boyfriend?"
"Uhhh... Daddy!"
"Okay. Well, you'd better tell Daddy about that."
[A few minutes later, we walk in the door, and she marches to her Dad's office.]
"You're! My! Boyfriend!"
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Funny girl
Some really funny moments today.
First, on our way to the grocery store, it was getting dark, and Zadie mentioned that she loved night and she wanted the sun to go away. When we came out, it was even darker, and Zadie said, "I got my wish! It's night! What are we gonna do?" I answered that we would probably make dinner, read some books, and go to bed. Suddenly, she said, "It's not night!"
At her request, I bought a cake mix and frosting and heart candy thingies. I had told her we'd make cupcakes, but then she was barely touching her dinner. Sweetie suggested that she eat some more, and she lay her head against the back of the chair and said "I'm too tired." He answered, "Well then, I guess you're too tired for cupcakes." She sat up and said "Pop! I'm not too tired!" No, literally, she made the sound effect, too.
Finally, we were cuddling on the couch, and she said "You're silly, Mama." I said, "I know, but isn't it kind of nice to have a silly mommy?" She answered, "Yeah. I love you. And you're so cute I can't even poop!" I laughed, and she laughed, and she repeated it a few more times. I then reminded her that poop talk is yucky, and she kind of sighed and said, "Nobody likes the poop talk... except me."
We are back in soccer. I took her today, since Sweetie is under the weather. The first 18 minutes were kind of sucky, but the last 12 were good.
We're kicking off Japan week, and we had ramen last night. Today we went to Oto's Japan Foods to stock up, and we got lots of good stuff, including her first Hello Kitty Pocky. Then we went to Mahoroba Japanese Bakery. I had heard good things about them, but I wasn't that impressed. The chocolate pastry I got wasn't very chocolatey, and the custard one was tasty, but very eggy. The blueberry cream cheese one, on the other hand, was really good. (I didn't eat them all -- just tasted.)
Surprisingly, Zadie fell asleep in the car just after 2 (normally she doesn't nap until 2:30 or later). So I transferred her to the bed, and she stayed asleep, although at the moment that I put her down, her eyes fluttered and she yelled, "Marco... macaroni and cheese!" Then she started snoring again.
That was most of our day, really. I have to say that although I sort of miss the snuggly baby period, I find her personality absolutely charming and hysterical right now. This is a fun age. Despite the challenges...
First, on our way to the grocery store, it was getting dark, and Zadie mentioned that she loved night and she wanted the sun to go away. When we came out, it was even darker, and Zadie said, "I got my wish! It's night! What are we gonna do?" I answered that we would probably make dinner, read some books, and go to bed. Suddenly, she said, "It's not night!"
At her request, I bought a cake mix and frosting and heart candy thingies. I had told her we'd make cupcakes, but then she was barely touching her dinner. Sweetie suggested that she eat some more, and she lay her head against the back of the chair and said "I'm too tired." He answered, "Well then, I guess you're too tired for cupcakes." She sat up and said "Pop! I'm not too tired!" No, literally, she made the sound effect, too.
Finally, we were cuddling on the couch, and she said "You're silly, Mama." I said, "I know, but isn't it kind of nice to have a silly mommy?" She answered, "Yeah. I love you. And you're so cute I can't even poop!" I laughed, and she laughed, and she repeated it a few more times. I then reminded her that poop talk is yucky, and she kind of sighed and said, "Nobody likes the poop talk... except me."
We are back in soccer. I took her today, since Sweetie is under the weather. The first 18 minutes were kind of sucky, but the last 12 were good.
We're kicking off Japan week, and we had ramen last night. Today we went to Oto's Japan Foods to stock up, and we got lots of good stuff, including her first Hello Kitty Pocky. Then we went to Mahoroba Japanese Bakery. I had heard good things about them, but I wasn't that impressed. The chocolate pastry I got wasn't very chocolatey, and the custard one was tasty, but very eggy. The blueberry cream cheese one, on the other hand, was really good. (I didn't eat them all -- just tasted.)
Surprisingly, Zadie fell asleep in the car just after 2 (normally she doesn't nap until 2:30 or later). So I transferred her to the bed, and she stayed asleep, although at the moment that I put her down, her eyes fluttered and she yelled, "Marco... macaroni and cheese!" Then she started snoring again.
That was most of our day, really. I have to say that although I sort of miss the snuggly baby period, I find her personality absolutely charming and hysterical right now. This is a fun age. Despite the challenges...
Friday, January 21, 2011
Ugly news for educators
In the news this week: Margaret Fortune is going to open ten charter schools in the area where I teach.
Also: Michelle Rhee is going to settle in my town to start some sort of "school reform" PAC.
So what? You may be asking...
Well, regarding the Margaret Fortune thing, the worst-case (but pretty likely) scenario is that they will skim off the best kids with the most involved parents, leave everybody else behind (or kick out those who cause trouble), and take funds away from the public schools where we're left to educate everybody leftover. Oh yeah, and after they take the best and brightest and, shockingly, end up with great test scores, we'll be compared to them via test scores.
And Rhee? Listen, she destroyed the D.C. school system and was run out on a rail. Now our mayor (who is, incidentally, her fiancee) says we "pulled out all the stops to get her?"
And here's the thing -- they're all part of a creepy, incestuous little circle that took over a local high school. That school?
Has HALF the enrollment it did when it started.
Has left a neighborhood with no comprehensive high school.
Misused AmeriCorps money.
Covered up allegations of sexual abuse of a student by Johnson.
Hasn't paid rent to the district in three years.
Johnson himself was accused of using AmeriCorps volunteers to run his personal errands and wash his car. When a student informed a teacher that KJ had touched her inappropriately, the teacher reported it to Rhee, who contacted -- wait for it -- not the police but KJ's personal lawyer, who talked to the student before anyone called the police. The girl recanted. They also allegedly asked the teacher to change her story. There are at least two instances of Johnson offering hush money to girls who accused him of allegedly behaving inappropriately. (It seems certain, for one thing, that he took a shower with a 16 year old while still in Arizona.)
So, you know... I'm not really sure I want these folks influencing education policy in my town.
Oh, and by the way, I have seen or heard this question about 100 times recently: But if charter schools work, why not support them?
The answer is, I would. But they don't. And there's really gosh darn good, peer-reviewed evidence that they don't. It says this: 17 percent of charter schools reported academic gains that were significantly better than traditional public schools, while 37 percent of charter schools showed gains that were worse than their traditional public school counterparts, with 46 percent of charter schools demonstrating no significant difference.
It looks to me like that means charters AREN'T better than public schools, even though they often cull the best students. You know why people keep asking that question, though? Because there's an interesting movie that says charters are the answer, and Oprah interviewed the movie-maker, and you just don't argue with Oprah. Not even if the facts are on your side.
Also: Michelle Rhee is going to settle in my town to start some sort of "school reform" PAC.
So what? You may be asking...
Well, regarding the Margaret Fortune thing, the worst-case (but pretty likely) scenario is that they will skim off the best kids with the most involved parents, leave everybody else behind (or kick out those who cause trouble), and take funds away from the public schools where we're left to educate everybody leftover. Oh yeah, and after they take the best and brightest and, shockingly, end up with great test scores, we'll be compared to them via test scores.
And Rhee? Listen, she destroyed the D.C. school system and was run out on a rail. Now our mayor (who is, incidentally, her fiancee) says we "pulled out all the stops to get her?"
And here's the thing -- they're all part of a creepy, incestuous little circle that took over a local high school. That school?
Has HALF the enrollment it did when it started.
Has left a neighborhood with no comprehensive high school.
Misused AmeriCorps money.
Covered up allegations of sexual abuse of a student by Johnson.
Hasn't paid rent to the district in three years.
Johnson himself was accused of using AmeriCorps volunteers to run his personal errands and wash his car. When a student informed a teacher that KJ had touched her inappropriately, the teacher reported it to Rhee, who contacted -- wait for it -- not the police but KJ's personal lawyer, who talked to the student before anyone called the police. The girl recanted. They also allegedly asked the teacher to change her story. There are at least two instances of Johnson offering hush money to girls who accused him of allegedly behaving inappropriately. (It seems certain, for one thing, that he took a shower with a 16 year old while still in Arizona.)
So, you know... I'm not really sure I want these folks influencing education policy in my town.
Oh, and by the way, I have seen or heard this question about 100 times recently: But if charter schools work, why not support them?
The answer is, I would. But they don't. And there's really gosh darn good, peer-reviewed evidence that they don't. It says this: 17 percent of charter schools reported academic gains that were significantly better than traditional public schools, while 37 percent of charter schools showed gains that were worse than their traditional public school counterparts, with 46 percent of charter schools demonstrating no significant difference.
It looks to me like that means charters AREN'T better than public schools, even though they often cull the best students. You know why people keep asking that question, though? Because there's an interesting movie that says charters are the answer, and Oprah interviewed the movie-maker, and you just don't argue with Oprah. Not even if the facts are on your side.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Cluster-F of a non-instructional day
(I'm mainly posting this for my dad, who loves this kind of nonsense.)
So... a bit over six months ago, the school district negotiated three furlough days with all the unions other than the teachers. Then they approached the teachers, but we said we'd prefer a pay cut (it's actually a "donation" back to the district, but the effect on our paychecks is the same), and NOT to lose days in the school year, because keeping the kids in the classroom and not cutting instructional time was important to us.
At the time, I remember that someone asked, "What happens if teachers don't take furlough days and classified staff does?" There was no answer six months ago, and there wasn't one until Tuesday. The answer is, you can't really have kids on campus if there are no bus drivers, cafeteria staff, campus monitors, etc. So they're telling the kids it's a holiday. The teachers still have to work.
I'm not mad that I have to work, by the way. I had planned on it, and it sounds as though we'll have some useful meeting time. What I'm mad about is that it CUTS INSTRUCTIONAL TIME for the kids even though we sacrificed to prevent that.
And I'm even madder that they seem to be hiding that fact from the parents. The e-newsletter hid it under an article about a pancake breakfast and said it was a "calendar error," and that the holiday would be celebrated "as is traditional." That makes it sound like "Oops, we made a typo on the calendar" rather than "we f***ed up really badly and are fixing it by cutting your child's learning time." If I was a parent, I think I would want that information.
Last June, I wasn't happy about the pay cut, but I figured that at least we had done something to benefit the students. I felt kinda... noble.
I was explaining to some students at lunch today about what happened, and I said that although some other unions had negotiated unpaid days with the day actually off work, teachers had negotiated a pay cut with no reduction in work. Another kid said, "Ha ha! You guys are stupid!" I felt a little like he was right.
So... a bit over six months ago, the school district negotiated three furlough days with all the unions other than the teachers. Then they approached the teachers, but we said we'd prefer a pay cut (it's actually a "donation" back to the district, but the effect on our paychecks is the same), and NOT to lose days in the school year, because keeping the kids in the classroom and not cutting instructional time was important to us.
At the time, I remember that someone asked, "What happens if teachers don't take furlough days and classified staff does?" There was no answer six months ago, and there wasn't one until Tuesday. The answer is, you can't really have kids on campus if there are no bus drivers, cafeteria staff, campus monitors, etc. So they're telling the kids it's a holiday. The teachers still have to work.
I'm not mad that I have to work, by the way. I had planned on it, and it sounds as though we'll have some useful meeting time. What I'm mad about is that it CUTS INSTRUCTIONAL TIME for the kids even though we sacrificed to prevent that.
And I'm even madder that they seem to be hiding that fact from the parents. The e-newsletter hid it under an article about a pancake breakfast and said it was a "calendar error," and that the holiday would be celebrated "as is traditional." That makes it sound like "Oops, we made a typo on the calendar" rather than "we f***ed up really badly and are fixing it by cutting your child's learning time." If I was a parent, I think I would want that information.
Last June, I wasn't happy about the pay cut, but I figured that at least we had done something to benefit the students. I felt kinda... noble.
I was explaining to some students at lunch today about what happened, and I said that although some other unions had negotiated unpaid days with the day actually off work, teachers had negotiated a pay cut with no reduction in work. Another kid said, "Ha ha! You guys are stupid!" I felt a little like he was right.
High school kids say the darndest things.
We've been doing some extremely important, high-stress oral exams lately. So naturally, I've been secretly laughing my ass off at some of the things the kids have said.
One kid was talking about E.B. White's essay "On a Florida Key," wherein he talks about racism, and the student starts talking about the N-word. He heads down a path where he's like, "the meaning of words can change over time," and I'm thinking OFF-TOPIC!! GET BACK TO WHITE! But alas, no; he went on. "For example, N-word just means friendship now." He actually said the word, by the way.
Another student, talking about the same essay, referred several times to the issue of "racicism" in the South.
Yet another talked about "The Taming of the Shrewd." Over and over again... And he really enunciated the crap out of it.
One student gave me an idea for a new band name when she said her poem was in "iambic contaminator."
Another student talked about Petruchio teasing Kate, and said he was "fondling with her."
And finally, my favorite, I think, because it's so circular and, well, loopy that it's almost poetic: "Birches remind me of trees, because birches are like branches, and branches are on trees."
One kid was talking about E.B. White's essay "On a Florida Key," wherein he talks about racism, and the student starts talking about the N-word. He heads down a path where he's like, "the meaning of words can change over time," and I'm thinking OFF-TOPIC!! GET BACK TO WHITE! But alas, no; he went on. "For example, N-word just means friendship now." He actually said the word, by the way.
Another student, talking about the same essay, referred several times to the issue of "racicism" in the South.
Yet another talked about "The Taming of the Shrewd." Over and over again... And he really enunciated the crap out of it.
One student gave me an idea for a new band name when she said her poem was in "iambic contaminator."
Another student talked about Petruchio teasing Kate, and said he was "fondling with her."
And finally, my favorite, I think, because it's so circular and, well, loopy that it's almost poetic: "Birches remind me of trees, because birches are like branches, and branches are on trees."
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Hello to Jason Isaacs
My favorite movie review podcast has a running joke where they say hello to the actor Jason Isaacs each week. He's been a good sport about it and frequently visits the show. It has picked up speed, and they've now heard reports of people saying hello to Jason Isaacs during their wedding vows. Last week, they decided that they liked "6 degrees of Jason Isaacs" better than the Kevin Bacon version, but they wanted to do it with any random person, not just actors.
I hereby submit... myself.
I
worked with
Elizabeth Nunziato (at the B Street Theater)
who was in "Phenomenon"
with John Travolta
who was in "Shout"
with Michael Bacall
who was in Grindhouse
with Jason Isaacs.
I also worked with Keith Coogan who was in "The Fox and the Hound" with Kurt Russell who was in Grindhouse with Jason Isaacs.
Whee! This is fun. I think I should send it to them.
I hereby submit... myself.
I
worked with
Elizabeth Nunziato (at the B Street Theater)
who was in "Phenomenon"
with John Travolta
who was in "Shout"
with Michael Bacall
who was in Grindhouse
with Jason Isaacs.
I also worked with Keith Coogan who was in "The Fox and the Hound" with Kurt Russell who was in Grindhouse with Jason Isaacs.
Whee! This is fun. I think I should send it to them.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Perfect weekend
We took off for Santa Cruz this weekend, which, despite the many changes it has undergone in the years since I first visited (1994-ish), is still one of my favorite places on earth.
It was a mildly rough start, with Z telling us, oh, fifty times or so that she was the princess and I was the witch. We also accidentally set the GPS to "no freeways" mode, which was confusing, and then we had a potty stop that wasn't. But once we got out of West Sacramento (yes, all this happened within spitting distance of home), we were set. Traffic was easy, only once did we hit fog, and we were in the city by about 1:30. After two more non-potty stops, of course.
The very first thing we did was head to Natural Bridges beach. I'm sure there are other nice beaches (I mean, I've been to some) in the area, but Natural Bridges has my heart. Sandy expanses, natural rock formations, a lagoon, bathrooms, a visitor center, easy parking, and the butterfly trees. Somehow, I thought we were not in the right season for butterflies, but I am delighted that I was wrong! As we walked in, we saw quite a few people going down the trail to the eucalyptus grove that the Monarchs stop at every year on their migrations. We figured it was worth a shot and went down the trail ourselves. There they were! Fluttering overhead, around, in circles, and right next to us! What a treat!
Then to the beach itself, where we played in the surf. It was the lowest tide I'd ever seen there, so people were walking out under the "bridge," and there were many anemones and other rock-clingers exposed. Zadie ran off looking for somewhere to "bask," and all the places she found to be baskable seemed to be in the middle of the path to the bathrooms, that sort of thing. I chased her all over the beach. She seemed a little scared of the waves themselves, which upon reflection was probably our fault. A week or so ago, we had a conversation where she asserted that she was going to swim in the waves all by herself, and in our oh-so-informative way, we explained about riptides, undertows, and various other ways the ocean can reach out and grab you and pull you out to sea, illustrated with personal examples. Frankly, I'm surprised sharks and jellyfish didn't come up. We backpedaled a bit, saying that if you were careful and your parents were with you, you would be safe. I'm not sure she bought it.
We went back to the motel after four and washed our feet off, then went out to Saturn Cafe, my favorite place to eat down there. We had a really delightful meal, punctuated by the cast of characters that wandered by. Ever seen that bumper sticker, "Keep Santa Cruz Weird?" Well, people down there are making a concerted effort. We saw two guys in tight, short denim shorts, but I barely glanced their way because of... the other creature. Yeah, I saw a tall, slender person in skinny pants, a tidy black bob, baby barrette, fashionably-draped pashmina and a beret. But something about the stance seemed mannish. I looked for an extra moment, and when he turned, I saw a huge John Waters moustache. When he came closer, it became apparent that the hair was a wig, but I never could tell about the moustache. It wasn't stick-on, that's for sure. And I'm not sure it was painted on, either, but I don't know that it was real. I think it was part hair and part makeup, like when you darken your eyebrows with pencil. Okay, anyway... We devoured a mini-madness, then went walking. (Incidentally, the mini-madness is the size of a normal ice cream sundae and includes chocolate ice cream, chocolate mousse, brownies, hot fudge, whipped cream, chocolate chips, and cookie crumbles.)
On Pacific avenue, we saw lots of buskers on Saturday evening. Some weren't bad. Some were. I am thinking particularly of the man and woman singing Buddy Holly's "That'll Be the Day." Really, they weren't bad at their instruments, but the gal's voice was just godawful.
We ended Saturday sure that it had been the nicest weather we would encounter. It was close to seventy degrees and clear all day. I didn't even wear my coat in the evening, just a sweater.
We couldn't wait for breakfast at Cafe Brasil! I had the acai bowl last time, and it was amazing -- like the best smoothie I've ever had plus granola and fresh fruit. But Sweetie had the gallo pinto, a dish with eggs, tortillas, a rice and bean pilaf, and fried plantains. It looked heavenly and I wished I'd had that, too. So this time, that's what I ordered. Oh, am I glad I did! If you've never had plantains, unripe ones are starchy like a potato, and ripe ones are sweet like a banana. The gallo pinto comes with fried versions of both. It's unreal. Plus, the sauce that comes on the side is a lovely vinegar-y concoction I'd love to get a bottle of. Naturally, I sort of wish I'd gotten the acai bowl as well. =)
We had talked about going to the Boardwalk, but I wasn't sure how much there would actually be for Z to do there. We drove to that area and parked, then planned to just walk down the wharf and maybe see some sea lions. But in the event, Zadie wanted to walk on the beach with her shoes off, so we did. We got to the boardwalk itself and wandered around. It wasn't open yet, but we determined that there really wasn't much she could do there. Skee-ball, a merry-go-round, and a caramel apple, perhaps. We left. It was a lovely walk in the sunshine, though, and the weather held. In fact, I can't recall waking up in Santa Cruz and it NOT being foggy. It was sunny from the moment we awoke both today and yesterday.
Then we walked along Pacific Avenue for a while. Okay, almost four hours! There's some good shopping to be had, even though it has changed a lot. Here in Sacramento, we call something that's a touch outdated/funky/weird-but-in-a-good-way "janky." Pacific Avenue used to be janky, but it's not really anymore. There's a Gap and a Jamba and a Peet's and a Starbucks and an Urban Outfitters. Still, there are some great kids' shops, hat and shoe places, a sock shop I like, and a fantastic book store that we spent an insane amount of money in. Then we had lunch at a falafel place and went back to the motel for a nap.
Oh, among the many interesting characters we saw was "the Gargoyle," a man who was covered head-to-toe in a Lycra bodystocking of black and white stripes. He was playing an accordion in it's own striped stocking. Of course Zadie really wanted to talk to and about him.
One of the things Sweetie bought was a sand castle set for Z. It came with a shovel, rake, bucket, and sand mold. After our nap, we went back to Natural Bridges and built a sand castle. Zadie wanted me to stand in the surf holding her, and I did. Soon, the sun started to go down. The sky turned pink, the sun got wavy, and it disappeared quickly. We applauded when it was done.
As Z ran around, we passed a large gathering of Asian people grilling and singing. They had guitars, tambourines, and rhythm instruments. I don't mean to stereotype, but something about the gathering made me feel sure that they'd be singing "Kumbayah" or "He's Got the Whole World In His Hands" when we got close enough to hear. In fact, it was "I Listen to the Rhythm of the Falling Rain" by The Cascades. Later, when we passed them again, they were singing in a language I didn't understand.
Then it was time to decide on where to eat dinner. The bummer of Santa Cruz is that it has exceptional breakfast places, but not that many dinner places we really like. Vasilli's has good Greek food, but the rice and veggies aren't that good, and parking is non-existent. Malabar is Sri Lankan and not bad, but off our beaten path. We've probably tried twenty Chinese, Thai, Japanese, and sushi places in the last several years, and we've never found one we really liked, and many were laughably bad. We finally decided to just go back to Pacific and see what was there. We went to Kianti, which was always packed. I understood why after we ate -- it's like Bucca Di Beppo. You can order family style, they offer "cheesy bread," and it comes with ranch dressing. Italian fine dining it is not. Still, it wasn't bad, and we all enjoyed our meal. It would be one of those places we'd go back to in a pinch.
Then! Then! Oh, the disappointment!! I love Marianne's Ice Cream, and the Marianne's store is a ways from our hotel. But a couple visits ago, I noticed that there's a doughnut shop that sells the ice cream just a few blocks away! We went, and I was anticipating the Mexican chocolate, the bittersweet chocolate, or the caramelly 10-20. But no, all they had were the more traditional flavors. I got a scoop of chocolate fudge, and to my horror, it had icy bits and bits that tasted like when ice crema gets that dried-out freezer skin. It was really disappointing. Zadie liked the puzzle enthusiast wearing the miner's headlamp, though.
We went back and read our new books, then went to bed. In the wee hours, Zadie crawled into our bed, which isn't a big deal here at home, where we have a king size. But we were in a queen, and I just didn't have room. I got out and curled up in Zadie's bed, where I slept peacefully for a few more hours. When I woke up, Sweetie was pushed all the way to the side of the bed and Z was lying sideways across the middle like a hyphen, her butt pushed up against him. Sorry, babe!
Zadie said "I'm hungry -- let's go to the blue house again!" She meant Cafe Brasil, and really, I wouldn't have minded. But we went to Walnut Avenue cafe, which is one of our go-to breakfast places since Scotty's Cafe at the Sash Mill is no longer Scotty's. Anyway, we had a nice breakfast there, then walked around a bit more, mostly in the bookstore, which we hadn't really seen enough of yesterday. Sweetie had admired a piece of art, and I liked the one he liked (the coast sort of generally), but I LOVED one of Natural Bridges. Naturally, it was bigger and framed, and therefore more expensive, but we both really wanted it, so now it hangs above our mantel!! Honestly, Natural Bridges beach is one of my favorite places in the world, and I just keep on making beautiful memories there with my favorite people. Shit, I'm actually tearing up a little. Anyway, I sure do like it.
Zadie has trouble with transitions. The whole first day we were there, she wanted to go home. Then when we left the hotel for the beach, she wanted to be back at the hotel. When we left the beach, she wanted to stay. So this morning, the idea of going home was really no good. She even told me once "You're supposed to turn the car around! We have to go back to the beach!" I know how she felt.
It was a mildly rough start, with Z telling us, oh, fifty times or so that she was the princess and I was the witch. We also accidentally set the GPS to "no freeways" mode, which was confusing, and then we had a potty stop that wasn't. But once we got out of West Sacramento (yes, all this happened within spitting distance of home), we were set. Traffic was easy, only once did we hit fog, and we were in the city by about 1:30. After two more non-potty stops, of course.
The very first thing we did was head to Natural Bridges beach. I'm sure there are other nice beaches (I mean, I've been to some) in the area, but Natural Bridges has my heart. Sandy expanses, natural rock formations, a lagoon, bathrooms, a visitor center, easy parking, and the butterfly trees. Somehow, I thought we were not in the right season for butterflies, but I am delighted that I was wrong! As we walked in, we saw quite a few people going down the trail to the eucalyptus grove that the Monarchs stop at every year on their migrations. We figured it was worth a shot and went down the trail ourselves. There they were! Fluttering overhead, around, in circles, and right next to us! What a treat!
Then to the beach itself, where we played in the surf. It was the lowest tide I'd ever seen there, so people were walking out under the "bridge," and there were many anemones and other rock-clingers exposed. Zadie ran off looking for somewhere to "bask," and all the places she found to be baskable seemed to be in the middle of the path to the bathrooms, that sort of thing. I chased her all over the beach. She seemed a little scared of the waves themselves, which upon reflection was probably our fault. A week or so ago, we had a conversation where she asserted that she was going to swim in the waves all by herself, and in our oh-so-informative way, we explained about riptides, undertows, and various other ways the ocean can reach out and grab you and pull you out to sea, illustrated with personal examples. Frankly, I'm surprised sharks and jellyfish didn't come up. We backpedaled a bit, saying that if you were careful and your parents were with you, you would be safe. I'm not sure she bought it.
We went back to the motel after four and washed our feet off, then went out to Saturn Cafe, my favorite place to eat down there. We had a really delightful meal, punctuated by the cast of characters that wandered by. Ever seen that bumper sticker, "Keep Santa Cruz Weird?" Well, people down there are making a concerted effort. We saw two guys in tight, short denim shorts, but I barely glanced their way because of... the other creature. Yeah, I saw a tall, slender person in skinny pants, a tidy black bob, baby barrette, fashionably-draped pashmina and a beret. But something about the stance seemed mannish. I looked for an extra moment, and when he turned, I saw a huge John Waters moustache. When he came closer, it became apparent that the hair was a wig, but I never could tell about the moustache. It wasn't stick-on, that's for sure. And I'm not sure it was painted on, either, but I don't know that it was real. I think it was part hair and part makeup, like when you darken your eyebrows with pencil. Okay, anyway... We devoured a mini-madness, then went walking. (Incidentally, the mini-madness is the size of a normal ice cream sundae and includes chocolate ice cream, chocolate mousse, brownies, hot fudge, whipped cream, chocolate chips, and cookie crumbles.)
On Pacific avenue, we saw lots of buskers on Saturday evening. Some weren't bad. Some were. I am thinking particularly of the man and woman singing Buddy Holly's "That'll Be the Day." Really, they weren't bad at their instruments, but the gal's voice was just godawful.
We ended Saturday sure that it had been the nicest weather we would encounter. It was close to seventy degrees and clear all day. I didn't even wear my coat in the evening, just a sweater.
We couldn't wait for breakfast at Cafe Brasil! I had the acai bowl last time, and it was amazing -- like the best smoothie I've ever had plus granola and fresh fruit. But Sweetie had the gallo pinto, a dish with eggs, tortillas, a rice and bean pilaf, and fried plantains. It looked heavenly and I wished I'd had that, too. So this time, that's what I ordered. Oh, am I glad I did! If you've never had plantains, unripe ones are starchy like a potato, and ripe ones are sweet like a banana. The gallo pinto comes with fried versions of both. It's unreal. Plus, the sauce that comes on the side is a lovely vinegar-y concoction I'd love to get a bottle of. Naturally, I sort of wish I'd gotten the acai bowl as well. =)
We had talked about going to the Boardwalk, but I wasn't sure how much there would actually be for Z to do there. We drove to that area and parked, then planned to just walk down the wharf and maybe see some sea lions. But in the event, Zadie wanted to walk on the beach with her shoes off, so we did. We got to the boardwalk itself and wandered around. It wasn't open yet, but we determined that there really wasn't much she could do there. Skee-ball, a merry-go-round, and a caramel apple, perhaps. We left. It was a lovely walk in the sunshine, though, and the weather held. In fact, I can't recall waking up in Santa Cruz and it NOT being foggy. It was sunny from the moment we awoke both today and yesterday.
Then we walked along Pacific Avenue for a while. Okay, almost four hours! There's some good shopping to be had, even though it has changed a lot. Here in Sacramento, we call something that's a touch outdated/funky/weird-but-in-a-good-way "janky." Pacific Avenue used to be janky, but it's not really anymore. There's a Gap and a Jamba and a Peet's and a Starbucks and an Urban Outfitters. Still, there are some great kids' shops, hat and shoe places, a sock shop I like, and a fantastic book store that we spent an insane amount of money in. Then we had lunch at a falafel place and went back to the motel for a nap.
Oh, among the many interesting characters we saw was "the Gargoyle," a man who was covered head-to-toe in a Lycra bodystocking of black and white stripes. He was playing an accordion in it's own striped stocking. Of course Zadie really wanted to talk to and about him.
One of the things Sweetie bought was a sand castle set for Z. It came with a shovel, rake, bucket, and sand mold. After our nap, we went back to Natural Bridges and built a sand castle. Zadie wanted me to stand in the surf holding her, and I did. Soon, the sun started to go down. The sky turned pink, the sun got wavy, and it disappeared quickly. We applauded when it was done.
As Z ran around, we passed a large gathering of Asian people grilling and singing. They had guitars, tambourines, and rhythm instruments. I don't mean to stereotype, but something about the gathering made me feel sure that they'd be singing "Kumbayah" or "He's Got the Whole World In His Hands" when we got close enough to hear. In fact, it was "I Listen to the Rhythm of the Falling Rain" by The Cascades. Later, when we passed them again, they were singing in a language I didn't understand.
Then it was time to decide on where to eat dinner. The bummer of Santa Cruz is that it has exceptional breakfast places, but not that many dinner places we really like. Vasilli's has good Greek food, but the rice and veggies aren't that good, and parking is non-existent. Malabar is Sri Lankan and not bad, but off our beaten path. We've probably tried twenty Chinese, Thai, Japanese, and sushi places in the last several years, and we've never found one we really liked, and many were laughably bad. We finally decided to just go back to Pacific and see what was there. We went to Kianti, which was always packed. I understood why after we ate -- it's like Bucca Di Beppo. You can order family style, they offer "cheesy bread," and it comes with ranch dressing. Italian fine dining it is not. Still, it wasn't bad, and we all enjoyed our meal. It would be one of those places we'd go back to in a pinch.
Then! Then! Oh, the disappointment!! I love Marianne's Ice Cream, and the Marianne's store is a ways from our hotel. But a couple visits ago, I noticed that there's a doughnut shop that sells the ice cream just a few blocks away! We went, and I was anticipating the Mexican chocolate, the bittersweet chocolate, or the caramelly 10-20. But no, all they had were the more traditional flavors. I got a scoop of chocolate fudge, and to my horror, it had icy bits and bits that tasted like when ice crema gets that dried-out freezer skin. It was really disappointing. Zadie liked the puzzle enthusiast wearing the miner's headlamp, though.
We went back and read our new books, then went to bed. In the wee hours, Zadie crawled into our bed, which isn't a big deal here at home, where we have a king size. But we were in a queen, and I just didn't have room. I got out and curled up in Zadie's bed, where I slept peacefully for a few more hours. When I woke up, Sweetie was pushed all the way to the side of the bed and Z was lying sideways across the middle like a hyphen, her butt pushed up against him. Sorry, babe!
Zadie said "I'm hungry -- let's go to the blue house again!" She meant Cafe Brasil, and really, I wouldn't have minded. But we went to Walnut Avenue cafe, which is one of our go-to breakfast places since Scotty's Cafe at the Sash Mill is no longer Scotty's. Anyway, we had a nice breakfast there, then walked around a bit more, mostly in the bookstore, which we hadn't really seen enough of yesterday. Sweetie had admired a piece of art, and I liked the one he liked (the coast sort of generally), but I LOVED one of Natural Bridges. Naturally, it was bigger and framed, and therefore more expensive, but we both really wanted it, so now it hangs above our mantel!! Honestly, Natural Bridges beach is one of my favorite places in the world, and I just keep on making beautiful memories there with my favorite people. Shit, I'm actually tearing up a little. Anyway, I sure do like it.
Zadie has trouble with transitions. The whole first day we were there, she wanted to go home. Then when we left the hotel for the beach, she wanted to be back at the hotel. When we left the beach, she wanted to stay. So this morning, the idea of going home was really no good. She even told me once "You're supposed to turn the car around! We have to go back to the beach!" I know how she felt.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Independent
Little miss Z asked me yesterday morning, "When I'm three, can I stay home by myself when you go to work?" Sweetie and I both laughed. "You can't even work the remotes!" I said. "You can't even make yourself a snack!" Sweetie told her. "You can't even open the refrigerator door!" I added.
She looked scornfully at us both, then glanced around the room. She picked up her toy stethoscope. "I can be a doctor by myself!"
I smiled.
She looked around more. Seeing my coffee mug, she said "I can drink coffee by myself!"
"Okay," I said, "but you can't make coffee."
"I can just walk to Tupelo." She thought for a moment. "Or Naked Lounge."
So I think the takeaway lesson from this is not that she's ready to be on her own, but that we really do shop local!
She looked scornfully at us both, then glanced around the room. She picked up her toy stethoscope. "I can be a doctor by myself!"
I smiled.
She looked around more. Seeing my coffee mug, she said "I can drink coffee by myself!"
"Okay," I said, "but you can't make coffee."
"I can just walk to Tupelo." She thought for a moment. "Or Naked Lounge."
So I think the takeaway lesson from this is not that she's ready to be on her own, but that we really do shop local!
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Good-ass lesson
So, my kids are taking an important IB assessment next week. They'll get a 40-line excerpt of a poem, essay, or play that we have studied, they'll have 20 minutes to prepare, and then they have to talk about it for 15 minutes, preferably with a thesis and everything.
Sometimes I teach poetry sort of superficially, leaving out discussions of rhyme and meter and all that jazz. This year I just felt good about it, and I decided to throw caution to the wind and teach it all. The phrase "dactylic tetrameter" got said in class today, that's how serious we are. And it's really hard to teach... I mean, if you want to do poetry well, you have to talk about sounds, rhythms, why line breaks are where they are, what connotations one word might have that another wouldn't, what images come to mind, what the tone is, why a poet would use a form like a sonnet, what all those forms are, and so much more. Really, a LOT more.
I asked them last week what they were still really struggling with, and a lot of them said meter. I'm not surprised. Teaching meter -- I mean, well enough for a kid to get a poem they've never seen before, look at it, and say "Ah, yes, it's iambic" -- includes:
teaching that there are syllables and what those are.*
teaching how to identify a stressed syllable.**
teaching them how to mark the stressed and un-stressed syllables.
teaching what a metric "foot" is, which is essentially the shortest part of a repeating pattern (and what they tend to include and tend to not include).
teaching the kids to look for those patterns.
teaching them what the names are of the patterns (like iambic, trochaic, etc.).
teaching them to count the feet.
teaching them the names for the numbers of feet (tetrameter, pentameter, hexameter)
teaching them that most of the time, the pattern isn't perfect throughout the poem***, but they have to recognize it anyway.
and, of course, teaching them how to TALK about meter and why it matters.
But the thing is -- I fucking did it!! I had a one-hour lesson today, and by the end of it, all but one or two kids were scanning the sample lines correctly, dividing the feet correctly, and writing little (correct) notes in the margins like "anapestic."
Damn, it feels good to be a (poetry) gangsta.
*I had a kid tell me today that "night" was two syllables -- "Ni" and "ght." She even said it like "guhut."
**It comes easily to me, but not to my students. If I say "Birthday" to them and change the stress (BIRTHday vs. birthDAY), many of them absolutely cannot tell me which one sounds better.
***I had a professor tell me once that in most poems, the meter is perfect in only about 75%, and the rest is irregular somehow. I assumed it was true, but it's never been more apparent than when teaching it this semester. Pretty much EVERY example I pull is in the range of 75%.
If you're curious to see an example, think of "Twas the night before Christmas."
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
It's stressed like so:
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
Then you figure out what the pattern is. In this case, the smallest chunk that repeats is "unstressed unstressed stressed." If you divide the line into those little chunks, each one is called a foot, and this poem has four feet per line. That's called tetrameter.
Then you add the name of the kind of foot it is. That pattern (unstressed unstressed stressed) happens to be called anapestic. So you put them together and find out that the poem is written in anapestic tetrameter.
It comes really naturally to me, and yet even I sometimes stumble when I am looking at a new poem. I understand why this is deep-level shit.
Look at Frost's Mending Wall for a sec.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall.
Stressed like this:
Something there is that doesn't love a wall.
It jacks you up right away, because the first one is stressed-unstressed, then it switches to unstressed-stressed for the rest of the feet. If you're not very familiar with this process, you might think you're supposed to divide them after the stressed ones only. Or you might want to pretend we say "something" like "someTHING." Or whatever. But if you remember that 75% thing, you can relax and breathe a little.
Can you tell I'm a super-goober about this kind of stuff? I like it like my husband likes military history. I love it like my uncle loves Tool. I love it like computer nerds love to talk about RAM and football dudes like to talk about the draft. I could seriously geek out about poetry (meter, but also alliteration, slant rhyme, form, and whatever else) for hours. Be thankful this post isn't longer. And on that note...
Sometimes I teach poetry sort of superficially, leaving out discussions of rhyme and meter and all that jazz. This year I just felt good about it, and I decided to throw caution to the wind and teach it all. The phrase "dactylic tetrameter" got said in class today, that's how serious we are. And it's really hard to teach... I mean, if you want to do poetry well, you have to talk about sounds, rhythms, why line breaks are where they are, what connotations one word might have that another wouldn't, what images come to mind, what the tone is, why a poet would use a form like a sonnet, what all those forms are, and so much more. Really, a LOT more.
I asked them last week what they were still really struggling with, and a lot of them said meter. I'm not surprised. Teaching meter -- I mean, well enough for a kid to get a poem they've never seen before, look at it, and say "Ah, yes, it's iambic" -- includes:
teaching that there are syllables and what those are.*
teaching how to identify a stressed syllable.**
teaching them how to mark the stressed and un-stressed syllables.
teaching what a metric "foot" is, which is essentially the shortest part of a repeating pattern (and what they tend to include and tend to not include).
teaching the kids to look for those patterns.
teaching them what the names are of the patterns (like iambic, trochaic, etc.).
teaching them to count the feet.
teaching them the names for the numbers of feet (tetrameter, pentameter, hexameter)
teaching them that most of the time, the pattern isn't perfect throughout the poem***, but they have to recognize it anyway.
and, of course, teaching them how to TALK about meter and why it matters.
But the thing is -- I fucking did it!! I had a one-hour lesson today, and by the end of it, all but one or two kids were scanning the sample lines correctly, dividing the feet correctly, and writing little (correct) notes in the margins like "anapestic."
Damn, it feels good to be a (poetry) gangsta.
*I had a kid tell me today that "night" was two syllables -- "Ni" and "ght." She even said it like "guhut."
**It comes easily to me, but not to my students. If I say "Birthday" to them and change the stress (BIRTHday vs. birthDAY), many of them absolutely cannot tell me which one sounds better.
***I had a professor tell me once that in most poems, the meter is perfect in only about 75%, and the rest is irregular somehow. I assumed it was true, but it's never been more apparent than when teaching it this semester. Pretty much EVERY example I pull is in the range of 75%.
If you're curious to see an example, think of "Twas the night before Christmas."
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
It's stressed like so:
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
Then you figure out what the pattern is. In this case, the smallest chunk that repeats is "unstressed unstressed stressed." If you divide the line into those little chunks, each one is called a foot, and this poem has four feet per line. That's called tetrameter.
Then you add the name of the kind of foot it is. That pattern (unstressed unstressed stressed) happens to be called anapestic. So you put them together and find out that the poem is written in anapestic tetrameter.
It comes really naturally to me, and yet even I sometimes stumble when I am looking at a new poem. I understand why this is deep-level shit.
Look at Frost's Mending Wall for a sec.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall.
Stressed like this:
Something there is that doesn't love a wall.
It jacks you up right away, because the first one is stressed-unstressed, then it switches to unstressed-stressed for the rest of the feet. If you're not very familiar with this process, you might think you're supposed to divide them after the stressed ones only. Or you might want to pretend we say "something" like "someTHING." Or whatever. But if you remember that 75% thing, you can relax and breathe a little.
Can you tell I'm a super-goober about this kind of stuff? I like it like my husband likes military history. I love it like my uncle loves Tool. I love it like computer nerds love to talk about RAM and football dudes like to talk about the draft. I could seriously geek out about poetry (meter, but also alliteration, slant rhyme, form, and whatever else) for hours. Be thankful this post isn't longer. And on that note...
Monday, January 10, 2011
2010 list?
Sure, why not, right?
Here are the top 5 awesome things I discovered in 2010:
The farmers market.
Okay, fine, I didn't discover it in 2010. I sort of re-discovered it, though, and now instead of getting boxes of beets and turnips delivered, I go get whatever I want. This week, it was apples, kiwi, mushrooms, eggs, broccoli, cauliflower, sweet potatoes, avocados, and chili-lemon almonds. And did I mention that the organic, local eggs from a small farm are half the price of the store eggs?
Mineral makeup.
Whatever, shut up. In the early spring last year, I had a terrible allergic reaction, which I think now was due to my skin lotion. At the time, I didn't know what it was, though, so I threw out all my makeup. I had heard good things about mineral makeup (and seen how nice it looked on my mom), so I gave it a try. It's fantastic! I wear it every day now, whereas I rarely wore foundation or powder before. It always felt heavy, looked like a mask, and separated right over where I needed coverage (e.g. blemishes). This stuff evens out my skin tone, which has a lot of redness in it, but most people can't even tell I'm wearing makeup. Case in point -- when I first bought it, I applied it before a dinner date with mom. When I saw her, I smiled broadly, turned my face back and forth, and asked, "well?" She hadn't noticed I was wearing makeup. Oh yeah, and remember those blemishes? I hardly have any. It doesn't seem to clog my pores. Anyway, I love the crap. I bought it like 9 months ago and I still have about 3/4 of it, so even though it was $25 or so (more than I would normally spend), it seems like I'm getting my money's worth. I'm a believer!
Hershey's Special Dark cocoa powder.
I think it was my birthday party last year when the cake, which is always good, was noticeably better. We all commented on it, and Mom said she'd made it with Special Dark powder. I got some myself shortly thereafter and made brownies. Incredible! Then I made cookies. Fantastic! Everything I made with the Special Dark powder was about twice as good as it usually is. If you like to bake and like chocolate, this is the stuff. Honestly, I can't even believe it's the exact same price as regular cocoa powder given how explosively, richly, wonderfully chocolatey it is.
Clinique Youth Surge moisturizer.
For whatever reason, around the time Zadie was born, I started to freak out that I didn't take care of my skin and I was going to start looking old. I wanted a moisturizer with an SPF, and when I started reading about all the anti-aging products, I decided to make it a two-fer. I initially tried Oil of Olay, but that's the one that gave me the allergic reaction. It was so awful, honestly, that I went back to using nothing for a while. I just didn't want to break out like that again. It took about 6 weeks to completely go away, even though I was using super-strong allergy medicine and cortizone cream. Okay, long story short, I heard that all Clinique's products were designed to be hypoallergenic, so I went to the counter to ask what to use. The young lady talked me down from Superdefense, saying my skin looked pretty good to her. I have been using the Youth Surge ever since, and it goes on smoothly, soaks in quickly, doesn't seem greasy, and has an SPF of 15.
5am
I hear other people have known about this time of day for years. I just discovered it myself in August. Seriously, I never thought I'd be one to get up early. I mean, I'm chipper and pleasant in the morning, but that's at... 6:30. I'm even better off at 7:30 or 8. In a world where I didn't have to work and no other external factors influenced me, I'd probably go to bed at 11 and get up at 8. So 5 was not really on my radar. 5 was for extremes, emergencies, and airport dropoffs. But when I started going, I quickly realized that it solved a lot of problems for me. The gym wasn't crowded. There was no traffic on the way there. I never had to miss Glee. I didn't have to try to go to the gym on a night when I also had to deal with the garbage, recycling, and slow cooker. I didn't have to go late or skip it because Zadie wouldn't go to sleep on time. I just get up, throw my clothes on and go. 5 days a week. It totally works. And even better, by the time I get home and shower and eat breakfast, I'm not at all worn out or anything. I barely even remember my workout by the time I get to work. It's like I burned 425 calories and it didn't even cramp my style.
Bonus #6 --Canning.
Yeah, that's right! This is the year we bought canning equipment, learned the basics, learned to make jam, and canned a shitload of strawberry, pear, nectarine-plum, tomato, marinara, whole tomatoes, and relish. And I'm still reaping the benefits, despite having given away quite a bit. That's been really fun, and my jam is at least as good as any I've ever had from a store or fancy boutique. In fact, it may just be better.
Anything you discovered in 2010?
Here are the top 5 awesome things I discovered in 2010:
The farmers market.
Okay, fine, I didn't discover it in 2010. I sort of re-discovered it, though, and now instead of getting boxes of beets and turnips delivered, I go get whatever I want. This week, it was apples, kiwi, mushrooms, eggs, broccoli, cauliflower, sweet potatoes, avocados, and chili-lemon almonds. And did I mention that the organic, local eggs from a small farm are half the price of the store eggs?
Mineral makeup.
Whatever, shut up. In the early spring last year, I had a terrible allergic reaction, which I think now was due to my skin lotion. At the time, I didn't know what it was, though, so I threw out all my makeup. I had heard good things about mineral makeup (and seen how nice it looked on my mom), so I gave it a try. It's fantastic! I wear it every day now, whereas I rarely wore foundation or powder before. It always felt heavy, looked like a mask, and separated right over where I needed coverage (e.g. blemishes). This stuff evens out my skin tone, which has a lot of redness in it, but most people can't even tell I'm wearing makeup. Case in point -- when I first bought it, I applied it before a dinner date with mom. When I saw her, I smiled broadly, turned my face back and forth, and asked, "well?" She hadn't noticed I was wearing makeup. Oh yeah, and remember those blemishes? I hardly have any. It doesn't seem to clog my pores. Anyway, I love the crap. I bought it like 9 months ago and I still have about 3/4 of it, so even though it was $25 or so (more than I would normally spend), it seems like I'm getting my money's worth. I'm a believer!
Hershey's Special Dark cocoa powder.
I think it was my birthday party last year when the cake, which is always good, was noticeably better. We all commented on it, and Mom said she'd made it with Special Dark powder. I got some myself shortly thereafter and made brownies. Incredible! Then I made cookies. Fantastic! Everything I made with the Special Dark powder was about twice as good as it usually is. If you like to bake and like chocolate, this is the stuff. Honestly, I can't even believe it's the exact same price as regular cocoa powder given how explosively, richly, wonderfully chocolatey it is.
Clinique Youth Surge moisturizer.
For whatever reason, around the time Zadie was born, I started to freak out that I didn't take care of my skin and I was going to start looking old. I wanted a moisturizer with an SPF, and when I started reading about all the anti-aging products, I decided to make it a two-fer. I initially tried Oil of Olay, but that's the one that gave me the allergic reaction. It was so awful, honestly, that I went back to using nothing for a while. I just didn't want to break out like that again. It took about 6 weeks to completely go away, even though I was using super-strong allergy medicine and cortizone cream. Okay, long story short, I heard that all Clinique's products were designed to be hypoallergenic, so I went to the counter to ask what to use. The young lady talked me down from Superdefense, saying my skin looked pretty good to her. I have been using the Youth Surge ever since, and it goes on smoothly, soaks in quickly, doesn't seem greasy, and has an SPF of 15.
5am
I hear other people have known about this time of day for years. I just discovered it myself in August. Seriously, I never thought I'd be one to get up early. I mean, I'm chipper and pleasant in the morning, but that's at... 6:30. I'm even better off at 7:30 or 8. In a world where I didn't have to work and no other external factors influenced me, I'd probably go to bed at 11 and get up at 8. So 5 was not really on my radar. 5 was for extremes, emergencies, and airport dropoffs. But when I started going, I quickly realized that it solved a lot of problems for me. The gym wasn't crowded. There was no traffic on the way there. I never had to miss Glee. I didn't have to try to go to the gym on a night when I also had to deal with the garbage, recycling, and slow cooker. I didn't have to go late or skip it because Zadie wouldn't go to sleep on time. I just get up, throw my clothes on and go. 5 days a week. It totally works. And even better, by the time I get home and shower and eat breakfast, I'm not at all worn out or anything. I barely even remember my workout by the time I get to work. It's like I burned 425 calories and it didn't even cramp my style.
Bonus #6 --Canning.
Yeah, that's right! This is the year we bought canning equipment, learned the basics, learned to make jam, and canned a shitload of strawberry, pear, nectarine-plum, tomato, marinara, whole tomatoes, and relish. And I'm still reaping the benefits, despite having given away quite a bit. That's been really fun, and my jam is at least as good as any I've ever had from a store or fancy boutique. In fact, it may just be better.
Anything you discovered in 2010?
Zadie says:
I love you. And [laughter] all the words you say are very nice, after your high school [redacted] is up to you and what could be the honor of that? All the playthings come to life until you feed them and you be them and one day it’s up to you and all the playthings come up to you and when they come to life and all they don’t do the space until it’s all and the space is not empty for the honor of that but the space is full of planets and aliens and the honor of that they could not schuber of that but they could do lots of thing. I love you I love you but what could be the honor of that. I love you so high but up in the swing could not very be the world so high and up to you is the honor of you and those and people of un-honor and what could be the honor of that and I OHHHOHHHHHOOOOOOH and I will love you until I die.
You're supposed to do [unintelligible]. I love you, but what's the honor of that? We're twins? The honor of that is not to you and all of that is not to you. I love you and you are very nice and you have stinky dice. And you have stinky dice. I said you had stinky dice.
*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*
I feel strongly that you might be able to understand this if you were on drugs.
Or possibly if you were a commenter on our local paper's web site, as about a sixth of the commenters write like this anyway. The others blame everything on Obama, compare people to Hitler, suggest the problem would be fixed if we got rid of "the illegals" and so forth. And that's just on the articles about puppies.
You're supposed to do [unintelligible]. I love you, but what's the honor of that? We're twins? The honor of that is not to you and all of that is not to you. I love you and you are very nice and you have stinky dice. And you have stinky dice. I said you had stinky dice.
*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*
I feel strongly that you might be able to understand this if you were on drugs.
Or possibly if you were a commenter on our local paper's web site, as about a sixth of the commenters write like this anyway. The others blame everything on Obama, compare people to Hitler, suggest the problem would be fixed if we got rid of "the illegals" and so forth. And that's just on the articles about puppies.
Sunday, January 09, 2011
A lot to say and also not much to say
Had a busy week and weekend. Weekend was nice -- cleaned, took R to play soccer while Z and I went to lunch at Starbucks and then to Nugget market. Some characters at Starbucks! One looked like Thom Yorke, another like Sammy Davis Jr., one had Brian Bosworth's mullet from the 80s, and one muttered angrily about AT&T, although he threw in this gem: "Hurricanes, storms, and guidos!"
We had a nice nap, then went to Kamon for sushi. Zadie ate unprecedented amounts of food. We got two awesome new books at the Avid Reader -- Above San Francisco and Brush Mona Lisa's Hair. The first has the most amazing arial photography of a city I love, and the second treats art as though it's totally for kids. It's just all "Hey, this is the Arnolfini Portrait. What can you see in it?"
Today was waffles, the farmer's market, the playground, the co-op, then home, a nap, and out to Cafe Bernardo with Mom. I know -- my weekends are marked by routine, but you know, they say routines are good for kids, and frankly, I find them quite reassuring myself.
The big news this weekend has been the assassination attempt on Gabrielle Giffords (and the murders of and injuries sustained by twenty others). It would be sad no matter what kind of crazy the guy was, but it's sure looking as though he's the kind of crazy who might have been influenced by the Tea Party's violent rhetoric. And within hours, Sarah Palin's "crosshairs" page was down and she had erased the tweet about "don't retreat, reload", and she claimed that the crosshairs were surveyors' marks... she didn't bother to "refudiate" all she's said about bullseyes, etcetera., but if called on it, I'm sure she will. The thing is, I don't think you can say "We didn't cause this and don't endorse violence" and try to erase all the evidence of promoting violence at the same time.
And I rarely get political and I know not all my readers will agree with me on this (hi, Dad), but I'm not anti-second-amendment; I do, however, think there ought to be controls. Waiting periods. Background checks. Age limits. A limit on types of weapons one can use.
I saw someone today argue (seriously, it would seem) that someone who intended to do violence would do it with a rock or a knife. Okay, yeah, maybe... but don't you think some idiot with a rock would get tackled before he killed a nine-year-old girl in a crowd?
And I'd just like to know -- I know it would be almost impossible to get these kinds of numbers -- but how many times are guns really used for good? Like, how many episodes per year are there of someone almost getting carjacked, then pulling out a gun and the guy running off? How many times do people's homes get broken into, but then the robber is chased off with a gun? How many times does someone almost rob a bank but someone with a CCW intervenes? It seems like I hear a story like that once a year or so. And how many times do you hear about someone getting shot by a criminal? How many times does a kid kill his playmate? How many times does a domestic situation turn fatal? How many times does something happen like what happened to my friend Erica's husband, who was cleaning his gun when it discharged and killed him? And I can't use my friend Bryan to make a rhetorical point, but goddamn, we miss Bryan.
I guess what I'm saying is, if the best argument people have is that they need to be able to keep guns to protect themselves, I'd like to know how often that shit works.
We had a nice nap, then went to Kamon for sushi. Zadie ate unprecedented amounts of food. We got two awesome new books at the Avid Reader -- Above San Francisco and Brush Mona Lisa's Hair. The first has the most amazing arial photography of a city I love, and the second treats art as though it's totally for kids. It's just all "Hey, this is the Arnolfini Portrait. What can you see in it?"
Today was waffles, the farmer's market, the playground, the co-op, then home, a nap, and out to Cafe Bernardo with Mom. I know -- my weekends are marked by routine, but you know, they say routines are good for kids, and frankly, I find them quite reassuring myself.
The big news this weekend has been the assassination attempt on Gabrielle Giffords (and the murders of and injuries sustained by twenty others). It would be sad no matter what kind of crazy the guy was, but it's sure looking as though he's the kind of crazy who might have been influenced by the Tea Party's violent rhetoric. And within hours, Sarah Palin's "crosshairs" page was down and she had erased the tweet about "don't retreat, reload", and she claimed that the crosshairs were surveyors' marks... she didn't bother to "refudiate" all she's said about bullseyes, etcetera., but if called on it, I'm sure she will. The thing is, I don't think you can say "We didn't cause this and don't endorse violence" and try to erase all the evidence of promoting violence at the same time.
And I rarely get political and I know not all my readers will agree with me on this (hi, Dad), but I'm not anti-second-amendment; I do, however, think there ought to be controls. Waiting periods. Background checks. Age limits. A limit on types of weapons one can use.
I saw someone today argue (seriously, it would seem) that someone who intended to do violence would do it with a rock or a knife. Okay, yeah, maybe... but don't you think some idiot with a rock would get tackled before he killed a nine-year-old girl in a crowd?
And I'd just like to know -- I know it would be almost impossible to get these kinds of numbers -- but how many times are guns really used for good? Like, how many episodes per year are there of someone almost getting carjacked, then pulling out a gun and the guy running off? How many times do people's homes get broken into, but then the robber is chased off with a gun? How many times does someone almost rob a bank but someone with a CCW intervenes? It seems like I hear a story like that once a year or so. And how many times do you hear about someone getting shot by a criminal? How many times does a kid kill his playmate? How many times does a domestic situation turn fatal? How many times does something happen like what happened to my friend Erica's husband, who was cleaning his gun when it discharged and killed him? And I can't use my friend Bryan to make a rhetorical point, but goddamn, we miss Bryan.
I guess what I'm saying is, if the best argument people have is that they need to be able to keep guns to protect themselves, I'd like to know how often that shit works.
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
My Birds and Bees class
Tonight we were strongly encouraged to attend a lecture for our parent education class (which I take to get Zadie in pre-school). It was about talking to your kids about sex, and although it ran a bit long and slow (we were on Powerpoint slide #2 after an HOUR), she had some valuable things to say.
Perhaps I liked it because I like hearing that I'm right and having my parenting validated, but in general, she did say mostly things that I already knew/agreed with.
So why am I writing? There were just three really good anecdotes she used to illustrate her points, and I wanted to share them.
First, she taught that when a kid asks a question, sometimes you should counter with a request: "Tell me more about that." Here are two reasons why.
The first one was a kid who asked his dad "Where do I come from?" The dad gamely launched into the sex talk, and when he was finished, the kid said "Okay. But am I from California?"
The second was about a kid who asked what Penthouse was. The mom freaked, asking where he had seen it, demanding to have the copy, insisting that "we don't look at those kinds of magazines in this family," and on and on. The kid apologized, almost in tears, and explained that he had thought it was a kind of apartment.
Those two stories are funny, so I don't want to mislead you into thinking the next one is, also. It's most certainly not. But it was such a good illustration of her point that I really thought it needed a wider audience.
Her point, first, was that you should always teach kids the correct names for their body parts.
The story is that a pre-school boy went to his teacher one day and told her that his Grandpa had come over the night before and petted his puppy. The teacher pleasantly replied how lovely that was, and what a nice grandpa he must be. The next day they had a similar conversation, with the teacher saying how lucky he was to have such a good grandpa. When the mom next came to school, the teacher asked about their puppy. The mom was confused -- they didn't have a puppy. The teacher explained about the story of the grandfather petting the boy's puppy, and the mom went white as a sheet. "Puppy" was what they called his penis.
I already teach Z the right names for everything, so that particular episode is not something that could happen to us, but I'm not sure I even realized how important it was, and the story sickened and haunted me so that I don't think I'll forget it any time soon.
Perhaps I liked it because I like hearing that I'm right and having my parenting validated, but in general, she did say mostly things that I already knew/agreed with.
So why am I writing? There were just three really good anecdotes she used to illustrate her points, and I wanted to share them.
First, she taught that when a kid asks a question, sometimes you should counter with a request: "Tell me more about that." Here are two reasons why.
The first one was a kid who asked his dad "Where do I come from?" The dad gamely launched into the sex talk, and when he was finished, the kid said "Okay. But am I from California?"
The second was about a kid who asked what Penthouse was. The mom freaked, asking where he had seen it, demanding to have the copy, insisting that "we don't look at those kinds of magazines in this family," and on and on. The kid apologized, almost in tears, and explained that he had thought it was a kind of apartment.
Those two stories are funny, so I don't want to mislead you into thinking the next one is, also. It's most certainly not. But it was such a good illustration of her point that I really thought it needed a wider audience.
Her point, first, was that you should always teach kids the correct names for their body parts.
The story is that a pre-school boy went to his teacher one day and told her that his Grandpa had come over the night before and petted his puppy. The teacher pleasantly replied how lovely that was, and what a nice grandpa he must be. The next day they had a similar conversation, with the teacher saying how lucky he was to have such a good grandpa. When the mom next came to school, the teacher asked about their puppy. The mom was confused -- they didn't have a puppy. The teacher explained about the story of the grandfather petting the boy's puppy, and the mom went white as a sheet. "Puppy" was what they called his penis.
I already teach Z the right names for everything, so that particular episode is not something that could happen to us, but I'm not sure I even realized how important it was, and the story sickened and haunted me so that I don't think I'll forget it any time soon.
Sunday, January 02, 2011
I made pasta!
I bought a pasta machine a couple months ago when a high-end kitchen store was closing. I have been meaning to use it, and I just haven't gotten around to it. I really wanted to do it before the break was over, but I had a hard time finding semolina flour*.
I finally found some, and I made the pasta this evening. It was drier than I expected, and harder to roll out (I should have just added more water). I couldn't figure out how to feed the dough into the machine, and then I figured out that I had to sort of pre-roll it with a rolling pin. Then I got these weird-shaped results like flattened Buddha's hand fruits. I did my best to cut them into strips, although some were funky-shaped and some were only four inches long.
Then I boiled them, but the recipe didn't suggest a time, just to "test for doneness," which I did, but then when I was eating them, I thought they were a little too al dente.
In short, the whole thing was a learning experience, but kind of an anxiety-producing one. When I make something I'm familiar with, I know we're all going to be satisfied, but when I try something new, especially something special, I really want it to go well.
So I was at the table saying things to Sweetie like, "Is it too underdone? I know they're weird shapes. Next time I'd roll them thinner." Zadie looked up at me with sauce on her lips, wide-eyed, and said "You're the bestest cooker in the whole world!!"
We'll work on grammar next week.
*I read later that all-purpose flour works fine. So now I know...
I finally found some, and I made the pasta this evening. It was drier than I expected, and harder to roll out (I should have just added more water). I couldn't figure out how to feed the dough into the machine, and then I figured out that I had to sort of pre-roll it with a rolling pin. Then I got these weird-shaped results like flattened Buddha's hand fruits. I did my best to cut them into strips, although some were funky-shaped and some were only four inches long.
Then I boiled them, but the recipe didn't suggest a time, just to "test for doneness," which I did, but then when I was eating them, I thought they were a little too al dente.
In short, the whole thing was a learning experience, but kind of an anxiety-producing one. When I make something I'm familiar with, I know we're all going to be satisfied, but when I try something new, especially something special, I really want it to go well.
So I was at the table saying things to Sweetie like, "Is it too underdone? I know they're weird shapes. Next time I'd roll them thinner." Zadie looked up at me with sauce on her lips, wide-eyed, and said "You're the bestest cooker in the whole world!!"
We'll work on grammar next week.
*I read later that all-purpose flour works fine. So now I know...
The good
I really try to see the good in everything, and usually I'm successful at it. I realized as I went to bed yesterday, though, that I had mentioned how our 2011 started (on Facebook) and only pointed out the bad. I said, and it's true, that Zadie had gotten totally soaked on our nature walk, and we had to leave early. To make her feel better, I took her to Naked Lounge for a "bowl of soul" (chamomile tea with soy milk and honey). There, she spilled the whole thing.
But I left out two important parts. As we went back to the car, walking along the levee, one of Zadie's boots fell off. I heard it fall and picked it up. We went back to the car, I stood her in the trunk, dried her off, put new clothes on and didn't even notice that at some point, she had also dropped the other boot! That is, I didn't notice until an older woman from the walk approached us with it. She had walked it all the way back to us.
And at Naked Lounge, I asked for the mop to clean the spill, but the girls working there insisted that they would clean it up. As we got ready to leave, one of them brought me a small paper to-go cup. In it was a second bowl of soul for Zadie.
So if you're one of those people who bases how the year will go on how the first day goes (and I typically don't), I think you'd have to base it on the absolute selfless goodness of the people who helped us out yesterday, and not on the various upsets and spills.
But I left out two important parts. As we went back to the car, walking along the levee, one of Zadie's boots fell off. I heard it fall and picked it up. We went back to the car, I stood her in the trunk, dried her off, put new clothes on and didn't even notice that at some point, she had also dropped the other boot! That is, I didn't notice until an older woman from the walk approached us with it. She had walked it all the way back to us.
And at Naked Lounge, I asked for the mop to clean the spill, but the girls working there insisted that they would clean it up. As we got ready to leave, one of them brought me a small paper to-go cup. In it was a second bowl of soul for Zadie.
So if you're one of those people who bases how the year will go on how the first day goes (and I typically don't), I think you'd have to base it on the absolute selfless goodness of the people who helped us out yesterday, and not on the various upsets and spills.
Saturday, January 01, 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)