Sunday Evening Sadness

A trabajar mañana, m’ijito
y tu a la escuela.
A levantarse temprano
ducharse a la rápida
vestirse calentito y
desayunar, aunque no tengas ganas.

Fueron lindos y largos estos días
pasamos horas haciendo nada
gozamos mucho
disfrutamos nuestra casita,
las sopas ricas que hizo tu padre,
y las delicias de dormir hasta tarde.

Mañana, regresamos a la rutina.
No tengas pena, m’ijo,
sentirás esta melancolía el resto de la vida.
Los lunes cuestan.

**********************************************
Back to work tomorrow, my son
and you to school.
Wake up early
shower quickly
dress warmly
have breakfast, though you don't feel like it.

These days were lovely and long
we spent hours doing nothing
we had fun
we enjoyed our little home
the savory soups your dad made
and the delights of sleeping in.

Tomorrow, we'll return to the routine.
Don't let it bother you my boy,
you'll feel this sadness the rest of your life.
Mondays are difficult.

Diversity Book Review: Stealing Buddha's Dinner

The book title, along with the cover’s image of a little girl contemplating a pink snoball, called my attention. Bich Minh Nguyen (first name pronounced Bit) writes a memoir interweaving food as a symbol of belonging. SpaghettiOs, Pringles, and fast food were the stuff of becoming American, of fitting in. Green sticky rice cakes, pho, cha gio, and fresh fruits, were the tastes of family, of home.

Nguyen and her family escaped from Saigon in 1975 and settled in Michigan. Growing up in the 80s, in the Midwest, Nguyen’s immigrant experience was similar to that of so many deemed “different” from the host culture. She struggled to fit in, longing to be like her classmates and neighbors; she fantasized about macaroni & cheese dinners and “homemade” Toll House cookies. Nguyen, however, is comforted by the foods her grandmother continues to prepare, shrimp soups, noodles, and meticulously chopped-up vegetables. She treasures even more the fresh fruits her grandmother lovingly peels and cuts for her; solace is often found in the familiar, the natural. Throughout the story, food seems to satiate different kinds of hunger. As a girl, Nguyen needs attention and encouragement. She appeases these needs in a closet with a candy bar or a ripe pear, stolen from her grandmother’s altar to Buddha.

The foods, music, and clothing styles mentioned in Nguyen’s book were familiar to me, as I was a teen in the 80s. I could connect to the childhood desire to “eat what they eat”, the shunning of that which is familiar, and the happy return to the foods that your mom makes (or grandmother, as in Nguyen’s story). It was also interesting to note that certain foods, considered “delicacies” for some, become everyday fare for others. This is especially true now, when we can regularly enjoy exotic foods in just about any American city, and savor Cheetos, tater-tots, Cozy Shack pudding, and a can of Chef Boyardee any day in the comfort of home.

I highly recommend this book. If you connect food with life's experiences (like me!) you will especially appreciate this story. You may find that you suddenly have a craving for a Pop-Tart, or you may want to try something new and visit any one of the many Asian restaurants in your area.

Personally, I need to find me some cha gio! Looks delicious!

Teachers/Writers Book Review: Teacher Man

Several years ago, I read Frank McCourt’s Angela’s Ashes and then his ‘Tis. Both were excellent memoirs, difficult to put down. McCourt’s stories of an impoverished childhood in 1930s Ireland and eventual return to America at the age of 19 were gut-wrenching and frustrating, yet fascinating. It is amazing how much a soul can put up with, and still come out fighting.

I purchased Teacher Man some time ago, and let it sit on my shelf for quite a while. I picked it up a couple of days after Christmas, and was hooked by a line in the Prologue; “There should be a medal for people who survive miserable childhoods and become teachers.” Recalling the first two books, I figured McCourt’s journey as a teacher would be a challenge as well.

While reading Teacher Man, I reflected on the habits and styles of teachers I've had, as well as my own. I could certainly relate with McCourt’s inner struggle with curriculum, with being expected to teach it in a certain way and time frame. I also understood the tiredness, the endless piles of paperwork, the conflicts in and out of the classroom, the perfect and difficult students and parents. I recognized the tremendous loneliness that often takes hold in this profession.

I felt even more kinship with the writer as he told of the occasional joys of conversations with kids, the ways in which students surprise us, reminding us they are people with their own stories. I felt the triumph McCourt must have sensed when he strayed (often) from prescribed material and improvised his lessons, frequently winging it. The results were beautiful, exciting, authentic, artistic, and empowering for both students and teacher. Equally humbling were the lessons that did not call the students' attention, or that just plain fell apart.

I did not have the pleasure of being in one of McCourt’s classes, but after reading this book, I feel as if he is one of my best-loved teachers. He moved me in the last chapter, which is comprised of just two words. At the moment I read them, I felt they fit somewhere in my life but wasn’t quite sure.

I realize today, at the start of a New Year, I will not specify resolutions. In everything, simply, “I’ll try.”

Diversity Rocks! Reading Challenge

I love going in to the New Year with a plan. So I've signed up for the 2009 Diversity Rocks! Challenge.

I'm committing to reading 12 books by authors of color; at least six of these will be children's and young adult books, and the others will be adult selections. While I already read diverse authors (check out my bookshelf at the bottom of my blog) I welcome the challenge to read even more. I'm looking forward to seeking out diverse children's and YA authors in particular, as it will also benefit my students.

Thanks Ali, at Worducopia, for an exciting project for the New Year! Read On!

What I Learned in 2008 Part II - Technology Wreaks Havoc

So, this Christmas, my husband gave me a portable hard drive with 250 GB (I understand that is a lot!) so that I could move files over and free up space on my lap-top. My plan was to move all of my photos, music files, and school folders to the external drive, virtually "housekeeping" and barely lifting a finger.

It was supposed to be a piece of cake.

The fun started when I tried to liberate the 5" x 3" contraption from its heavy-duty plastic, cutting my hand in the process. Then, as the product indicated it was "plug and play" and no instructions were included, I proceeded to connect the USB to my laptop and started moving photos and then iTunes to the new drive. Pretty easy. Cool.

Then, I went to my iTunes player... and everything was GONE. I went to my new drive, and found the songs in all sorts of folders, and when I tried to play them, they would play in another player, not the iTunes player. Oh no. Then, I went to my documents, and discovered more pandemonium. Things had shifted from here to there, files had replicated themselves. Music and lesson plans and poems and tests and gadgets and journals were all mixed together. Stuff was NOT where it was supposed to be!

And while I was working hard at restoring files and returning things to where they should be, my computer froze up. I hit Ctrl+Alt+Del, returned to what I was doing, and then it happened again! I restarted, got back to work, and it happened AGAIN!

I discovered later there were some updates that had to install, and that there was a specific way to move certain types of files over to the external hard drive. I think everything is back in order now. I hope.

OK. So there is plenty more that I have to learn. But these tech-troubles really flustered me today. While technology has made me more productive and efficient, it's also caused me frustration.