Security measures

In the midst of considerable stress, I’m taking steps to protect myself. Up until the past three weeks, I’ve thought of the demands of this master’s program as requiring organization, creativity, flexibility, dependability, warmth, and scholarship. Unfortunately, a bad situation has also required me to institute self-protective measures. Disheartened and sick, I am writing to think my way through to the end. If I am to continue, I have to find a way to feel happy and healthy while I do it.

Build in white space–Rethinking white space goes a long way for me. A long walk can serve as white space. On Friday after school, I walked from the high school to Pier 52, and the rain lashing my face never felt so welcome. A 30-minute lunch break means I eat quickly in order to walk twice around the track—fresh air and quiet for 10 minutes is precious white space in the middle of the day.

Rely on routine Start of day, end of day. These are my encaustic teacher Richard’s words. Start of day in an encaustic studio means opening the windows, warming the pans, laying fresh paper on the workspace, etc. In the classroom, I’m still figuring this out. (Right now, this takes some sleuthing and some trial and error on my part.)

Get enough sleep I am doing better at going to bed early, but still cannot figure out how to overcome insomnia. Five a.m. waking time is brutal on a couple hours of deep sleep.

Distance yourself Watch the raging river from above. Be the dual creature Whitman wrote of, “Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it.”

Practice non-attachment I am still trying to crack this nut.

Eat healthy food Also, keep a travel mug of hot tea close at hand. In disheartening times, it is a comfort.

Laugh Laughing yoga or Marcel the Shell with the kids.

Take sick days –Yes, I am writing this on a Monday morning from my sickbed at home, sweet home.

Best of what I’ve read this week

1. “Nothing focuses the mind like surprise.”

–Jonah Lehrer, How We Decide

I can think of several implications for teaching (besides the obvious: Okay kids, POP QUIZ!).

2. “Restoring Our Schools” by Linda Darling-Hammond

This piece shows clearly that the gulf between the haves and the have-nots in the U.S. isn’t just a matter of material resources–this gulf divides the nation into groups who have access to quality education, and those who do not.

3. This New York Times article from yesterday is framed as a debate over diversity–but a finer point I draw from it is that many, many high achieving individuals from privileged backgrounds see their achievements as individual accomplishments. An equity pedagogy has two parts: hand in hand with teaching from a multicultural perspective, we have to teach privileged students to truly see their privilege. I’m just now waking up to the extent of my own privilege.

There’s a moral imperative here with millions of disadvantaged students throughout the U.S., equaling a lot of alarm and assessments and not enough social justice being taught or practiced. “High-needs schools” is a term frequently referenced in my progressive program, with schools in more prosperous communities remaining in the periphery of the conversation. And yet there is another way to see privileged, suburban schools: in high need of social justice rhetoric and action suffusing the curriculum.

Aaaand, I might be drafting a final paper for Topics and Tensions in Education class rather than writing a blog post. But I’ll carry on anyway!

4. Helping Students Explore Their Privileged Identities

Also, here’s an idea for relating the idea of handedness to privilege.

5. “State of play” by Rebecca Mead, published in the July 5, 2010 edition of The New Yorker (abstract here), contains this fascinating tidbit: The UN Universal Declaration of the Rights of the Child (1959) sets out the same purposes for play as for education.

“The child shall have full opportunity for play and recreation, which should be directed to the same purposes as education.”

What are these purposes?

“He shall be given an education which will promote his general culture and enable him, on a basis of equal opportunity, to develop his abilities, his individual judgement, and his sense of moral and social responsibility, and to become a useful member of society.”

More fodder for my essay, perhaps. I’m just really taken with the idea of play and education intersecting, and it makes me love my silly, playful, and very smart cohort at UW all the more.

Conversing with kids about Haiti

One of our kids reads the paper every day; one is just learning what an earthquake is and that there’s a country named Haiti. As we understand more fully the devastation in Haiti, and as images flow into the news stream, I’m putting together a short conversation map for discussing what has happened and what we can do.

First of all, here’s a starting point for earthquake questions and facts.

Second, here’s a quick glimpse of Haiti through Kids with Cameras: self-portraits, daily life and folkways.

National Geographic has a brief picture gallery of earthquake victims; I chose this link because these photos show the human tragedy while still being suitable for all ages.

The above is a nearly 10-minute CNN clip with Wyclef Jean and Edwidge Danticat; since it was shot just as the news was breaking, there aren’t disturbing images of hurt people and yet it conveys the imminent need for help.

On a personal note, Danticat is one of my favorite authors; as I was recovering in the hospital room after S. was born, I read a riveting book to which Danticat contributed an essay–Becoming American: Personal Essays by First Generation Immigrant Women. S. has, on her own, discovered Danticat as a children’s author as well, and loved her so much she wrote a letter to her earlier this year. Seeing her on CNN will, I suspect, be an important moment in connecting her experience to a larger reality.

Short article about talking to kids about the tragedy.

CNN’s page of resources and charities accepting funds for Haiti.

Perhaps the most important part of this discussion is how we can help–through monetary donations, in this case, as logistics continue to hinder relief efforts to get food and clothing to those in need.

I’ll be putting identity politics to work this evening as we discuss the children in particular, the most vulnerable population in any natural disaster–UNICEF’s website lays out clearly what your $6 or $60 or $200 can buy. That’s valuable information, especially for a 6-year-old who still asks what his $4 and 23 cents can buy at the toy store.

Permeable membrane

listen
love
let things in
let things out
live in this permeable membrane,
weep and laugh and read and remember and
live

Here’s a song from Vic Chesnutt. RIP.

Abayneh Adefris. This article (and this kid’s smile) make me so happy.

Rock Island on Bainbridge Island

If you’re anything like us, you harbor a great fondness for the following:

folk music (in general)
Seattle’s KEXP (to be specific)
railroads (yeah, in general)
and singing in the car (most of the time)

So a couple of weeks ago, the kids and I were listening to KEXP’s show “The Roadhouse”, which features traditional American folk and blues, and we were delighted by this song that kept getting different treatments from Leadbelly to John Lennon. Some of the lyrics were slow and some were so fast that we kept going, “What? oh yeah, I know this part–fooled YA! fooled YA!”

It’s got the alphabet, it’s got livestock, it’s got railroad–what’s not to love for a kid? It’s got mandolin potential, it’s got subversive lyrics, it’s got a great history–what’s not to love for me?

Lennon

Stan Freberg

A house full of orchids

Or, one of the most illuminating parenting articles I’ve come across. Yes, it puts the burden squarely on the parents (the gardeners of fickle, sometimes fragile, and often fabulous orchid-children). But it also gives me a new lens and a new language to shape the way I think about my kids and my relationship with them. In our house of crazygenes, insight like this is more than welcome. And I’ve long had a love of orchids (just never much luck in keeping them alive). Here’s to another go.

Train trip

The little one turned six this week, and his birthday present was a train trip to Portland, OR.

Before we left, he unwrapped a miniature Starlight Express and hasn’t stopped playing with it since.

King Street Station is beautiful. The ongoing restoration project is very encouraging. Here is a fascinating slideshow of the station, past and present.

Of course, I’m not the only one with an opinion on Seattle’s train station. This is from the 18 Nov Seattle Times: “King Street Station sure to be a memorable eyesore

Within 90 days, Seattle will accidentally become host to thousands of Olympic fans, overflowing from Vancouver venues, eager to see what our city has to offer.

Many of them will take the train service from Vancouver to King Street Station, a poorly lit, rundown building with absolutely no amenities, and no connecting bus service — it’s a quarter mile to Metro and two miles to Greyhound. There is no hospitality center with directions to close restaurants or attractions, and here’s the kicker: no coffee — in Seattle, for god’s sake — in a place where people are milling around waiting for late trains.

King Street Station is an embarrassment to Seattle.

If this is the way we present ourselves to our guests, what does that say about us? Our Port of Seattle spares no expense at Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, but in a time when more and more people are considering the train, here we are with King Street Station, the gateway to Seattle.”

— Rick Sullivan, Seattle

Good points, yet my impression is that good progress is being made, Rick. Anyway, Amtrak’s coach class is roomy and comfortable. If you’re traveling with young children, there’s a fair chance they’ll seat you in the car with other babies and kidlets, so if the crying gets to you, just take a lurchy walk through the cars to the lounge car. It’s a great place to watch the sunset (it feels like a moving conservatory, all glass windows and sunroof.

Also, the dining car is as great as everyone told us it would be. I really liked the pumpkin-cranberry pie.

A. got a kick out of playing with his toy train on the train.

Quick list of Portland highlights:
Hotel Monaco, a place for people who live through the senses.
Greek Cusina — great lemon potatoes, oregano chicken, garlicky hummus, great pita bread.
Typhoon –smoky lettuce wraps, great chicken paneng, pear and prawn salad.
Red Star Tavern — a good place to blow more than you wanted on breakfast. Seriously good food, though.

And Powell’s. Our backpacks and bags were twice as heavy as when we entered. Need I say more?

On our return, we reached Seattle 45 minutes ahead of schedule, so we stood outside Qwest Field and watched the MLS Cup on the Jumbo Tron for awhile. Go Salt Lake Real! Either way, we would have been cheering. Soccer on that level is heady stuff.

Sunday morning hallelujah

Laid up in bed with the flu and flying around the world with my laptop.

Gurinder Osan Copyright 2009 AP

I was reading the print version (per our Sunday Luddite ritual of morning paper in bed, sections strewn across the duvet and ink blacking my fingers) of Pacific Northwest magazine and found this short travel article on Sikkim, India alluring, intriguing, inspiring. I think most of it is due to the photo, which was taken by AP photographer Gurinder Osan, who specializes in social documentary photography. His perspective reminds me of the best National Geographic photography, which I grew up poring over. A little web searching brought me to his 2005 photo of Kashmir earthquake survivors, with its breathtaking composition and beauty amidst such suffering.

Gurinder Osan Copyright 2005 AP

The Arts and Life section has a piece on Rufus Wainwright, who’s playing tonight at Benaroya Hall–and that brought us to listening to his cover of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah. Just beautiful.

And then the even more beautiful version by Jeff Buckley: I could listen to this a million times and still get my heart broken and uplifted all in the same song.

Here’s the link.

And finally, Imogen Heap’s version.

From the bedside table

I’m currently devouring Proust Was a Neuroscientist (you know it’s a good book if you pick it up during a bout of insomnia and find yourself still reading 2 hours later). It’s as much about creative figures like Whitman, Eliot, Cezanne, and Woolf as it is about how our brains work, and I find the conjunction of the two irresistible.

The author, Jonah Lehrer, also writes the blog The Frontal Cortex, and today’s post is a really beautiful and moving video of everyday moments.

Today

Flag day. My 33rd birthday. I’m reading and watching what’s happening in Iran today, thinking about freedom and justice, information and technology. I ♥ the internet.