Chapter 4: Criss-Crossing the Country

            My goodness, what a week. I’m currently sitting on a plain, flying back from Ohio, and procrastinating on the homework that I have left. And, no, it’s not a half-hour, get-it-don't-and-out-of-the-way now kind of homework. It’s the, I-have-no-idea-five-minutes-or-five-hours kind of homework. And really, that’s my own fault. I mean, I could leave well enough alone (how often did I say that to the kids this week? “You’ve had two and a half weeks, and have yet to glue on a single thing?!?! Look, I admire your perfectionist streak, and I recognize that you want this to be the single most perfect poster to ever grace the planet, but now’s the time to prioritize…) but where’s the fun in that? Oh, and thankfully, I don't talk to kids after eight hours of airports and airplanes.

I’d probably regret it.

So, why was I in Ohio? Or, to be more specific, Oberlin College? Simple matrimony. The union of two people. Mawwiage, to quote a friend’s most excellent toast, mawwiage was wot bwot us togethah that day. Specifically, the marriage of one of my amazing High School friends to her long time boyfriend.

Centered: The bride and her partner...and the only thing I can think of is, "together again..."

And it was beautiful.

I mean, to be honest, it helped that she was too. And not in the, “I have to say that because you’re a bride.” See, she wore this nice, simple blue dress. And, on top, she wore a white, hand crocheted cover that took her 8 months to make. And that, coupled with her glow (and her hair) just made it all seem so…perfect.

Even looking at this makes me want to cry with joy.

The ceremony took place in a small, intimate chapel. 

 

The weather was a pleasant, sunny, 70* Fahrenheit, with the usual menagerie associated with weddings—that collection of puzzle pieces stretching back into the separate lives of the couple, joined for one day to celebrate, and then as quickly separated back into their prospective groups as though one finally noticed that they never really fit together.

As for the ceremony itself…it reflected the bride and groom perfectly. It started with a little speech by the officiator (a friend of theirs), and then the bride’s mom stood up to sing a song. Given the occasion—and the audience—it was a perfect choice, and sung in a way that only a mother with a voice on her daughter’s wedding day will ever be able to produce.

“…sun rise, sun set…sun rise, sun set…quickly flow the years…”

Oh my goodness, but the passion brought everyone to tears. I have never heard a song so perfectly encapsulate the feelings of everyone in the room…and a part of me doubts if I ever will again.

Then the wedding party asked the bride and groom questions in a tongue-in-cheek vow style ceremony, and then the bride and groom said their hand written vows. Then the rings were exchanged, and they proceeded out to the tune of an accordion.

Oh, did I forget to mention?

The processions—both in and out—were musicified to the sounds of the accordian, drum, and fiddle. A more fitting combination does not exist. Anyway, then came the reception, which was sooooo much fun. There was good food (including cookies which, I kid you not, dear reader, were the SIZE of my FACE! And gooey! And delicious! And accidentally left in the hotel room this morning (weep weep, sad tears). 

Oh, what could have been...

There was a guest book, filled with writing prompts and rules for card games.

It made more sense in context. See, there were also two decks of very blank cards, which guests were invited to decorate for the happy couple. It was exciting.

So...many..cards!

If you don't get this, READ GARTH NIX!

Well, that turned out well.

But the best part (and, yes, there are things better than cookies that make me feel like I’m in the, “Phantom of the Opera”) was the dancing. See, unlike normal weddings, we didn’t do no new-fangled jive and jivvy dance! No, there were no flailing limbs and twerking behinds, nor solemn faces and hurt pride. No siree. Oh, dear reader, what did exist was…

CONTRA (up up down down left right left right B A start)

No, not that kind of contra, but contra dancing. See, the bride and groom started dancing to a song of the groom’s own making, when they suddenly pulled people in! Contra is less about who you start with—or even if you’re a lead or a follow—and more about just having fun. I ended up dancing with many of my friends that song. We then were pulled into a line which snaked around the room, the band playing merrily (really, I swear, there is no better nor truer adjective) in the background as away we went. And it was so cool, because as we were walking, someone started stomping a beat.

Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp-stomp!  Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp-stomp!

And it spread throughout the line, like a car crash, except with more laughing, and less broken bone and blood and gore. It was so awesome. We then learned a few more line dances. I must say, it’s been a while since I went dancing with my OES friends, but it’s made me wish that we could all do it more. By the end of the night, we were the only ones still on the dance floor. I even learned how to do the hustle. Truly, I never wanted the night to end…

But it did, because I had an early flight. Now, here I am, towards the end of the trip. What have I learned?

Well, number one, Ohio is different from Oregon. When we were flying in, I saw this lake shining under the sun. I looked down at it (and away from the phone of the man in front of me, who happened to be watching, Deadpool. I don’t know if he noticed, and don’t really care. It was something to stare at while thinking about my homework) and saw a glittering patchwork of waves. Now, these weren’t the waves of the ocean, which seem to have some purpose in their travels as they zoom along the top of the water. Instead, they seemed a bit more random, bounding into each other and creating a surface that looked almost placid. However, as with the ocean, the lake stretched on…and never stopped. Even from the air, there came a time when I could only see one shore stretching into the distance. I have never seen anything like it. I also saw this interesting building as we were descending. It looked, in the distance, like either a giant statue or a lighthouse, framed between two gigantic columns (I think that it was a factory) but it made me want to explore. What is it? What does it do? Why was it built? I may never know. As for the place itself, it just seemed so much more…manicured than Oregon. The road was bordered by these nice, grassy hills that ended in a very definite line of trees. I don’t know how to describe it, except to say that Oregon just seems so much more wile in comparison…it that’s an apt comparison to make.

Number 2, colleges might have their own unique cultures and feelings, but there’s something static about the feeling of students on a college campus. I don’t mean that in a bad way, just that they stood out from the rest of the people. There’s just something about college students, this kind of whimsical energy that says, “I’m either going to do my homework when I get to my friends house, or turn his couch into a flaming trebuchet.”

Note: Turning your friends couch into a burning trebuchet may cause bodily harm. It may also result in the loss of your security deposit, friendship, and friend. You have been warned.

Number 3, my friends are growing up and expanding their lives, just as I am. That’s what makes them fun to visit, because then we have so many more stories to tell each other. That being said…

Number 4, I’m a little jealous that my friend got married. I mean, I was at a wedding a month ago, and I was a little jealous then, but I’m more jealous now. Before this, marriage was this future thing that I wanted, but wasn’t really that interested in doing anything about in the present. But now that I have MARRIED friends (oh my goodness, I have MARRIED friendS…PLURAL!!!! With an S?!?!) the idea of getting married has suddenly become this great big reality.

Wow.

Anyway, so I spent the weekend crisscrossing the country (Portland -> Minneapolis -> Cleveland -> Oberlin -> Cleveland -> Denver -> Portland), what about the week before? How was student teaching.

Excellent, with little bits of panic.

See, the first part of my edTPA is due—not in a technical sense, but let’s get real, I’ve never been fond of turning things in the morning of—tonight when I go to bed. And I’ve been struggling a little with it. Not in the sense that I have no idea what I’m doing, but more that I have no idea how to organize it. See, I’ve been spending this month trying to figure out how the basic curriculum of my classroom works, and turning it into something that will also work with the edTPA (it’s kind of like putting a sphere through a round hole—I can never quite seem to grab hold long enough to make it fit.

But, it’s crunch time. I’ve spent more time working on it in plains, airports, and a hotel room than I’d care to think about. Really, it’s not that I’m behind where I should be, but behind where I want to be (although, and I have no issue with saying this, I spent a good 26 hours this weekend on the darn thing). I want this to be perfect—I want everything to get a five—but I don't have time anymore to make sure of that. So…as I’ve been telling my students, I’m going to have to decide on doing good enough, and saving perfect for the real one.

But that’s not the only lesson I’ve been saying again and again this week.

I’ve had several students come up and ask for an extension on either their speeches or their altars (the seventh graders aren’t at that crunch-time quite yet, but they will be tomorrow), and I’ve had to say no. This is a hard date, and they’ve had almost three weeks to work on it. However it’s also part of life. See, we as a species have these fun things called, “deadlines” that pop up all over live. They can be personal (I will get married and have 50 kids by the time I’m 30), or imposed on you (this is due on Friday) but they all take up a certain amount of time. And that time is precious, because it competes with all of the other things that we want to do in our lives. But part of growing up is deciding how we want to spend our time. Which do you feel will be better for you, editing the movie for next week, or working on your altar due Friday? I realize it’s hard, and that you feel obligated to go to football practice, but you also want to memorize your speech. Which one will you choose? I know that the wedding is important, but your edTPA Task 1 is due Sunday. Which will you choose?

All that I can say is that by choosing people over perfection, I hope that I’m modeling the kind of rationale I’d like my students to make.

This has been another exciting adventure in the Austentatious. If you liked it, tell your friends; if you hated it, tell your enemies; and if you don’t care either way, then tell everyone. Now, Oberlin pictures!

A pagoda, because...pagoda?

The library...which looks vaguely terrifying.

The building that looks like it has a book out front, but is not a library.

A historical sign. They have these everywhere!

Chapter 3: Of Brownies and Shine

(Ugh, my phone is taking forever to upload any images. I might need to add them later).

No, not moonshine. HIGHLIGHTER shine!

Behold, the magic of highlighters in lasertag! See, my room mate's birthday is tomorrow, so yesterday his father and brothers (bit of an energetic set) took him lasertagging, and I went along too. One of the amazing things about the game is that it takes place under a black-light. Therefore, anything white (or fluorescent, or possessing of chemical charisma) glows like a lightning bug. Did it make me easier to hit? Of course. Was it totally worth it? Heck yeah. I don't play to win (although, I did get the most points on my team during the second round, at 4865), I play to have fun. If that means that I get to pretend I'm a glowing warrior of peace and destruction (because why limit my options to what I want to do), then all the merrier.
Anyway, one reason I bring it up is that the place was crawling with my current students. The 8th graders completely ignored me (even though we happened to play against them), while my 7th graders all said hello. Some were a bit more surprised to see me than others. I call it the, "my-teacher-escaped-the-asylum" look. I know that I gave it when I was younger. When most of us are students, we just don't like to think about the fact that they have a life outside of the classroom.
Speaking of which, the classes are going great. The seventh graders are working magnificently on their posters, while the eighth graders are creating wonderful altars. Some of them stretch taller than me, especially with their arches. It's really impressive. It never ceases to amaze me just how much students can accomplish when they're given the opportunity to succeed. I'll be honest, I sometimes get the feeling that some teachers are as afraid of their students failing as their students are of failing. And I get where they're coming from. Failure is utterly terrifying. It's like this great gaping black hole beneath you, and you're scared that if you fall into it, you'll never get out. You'll just be stuck down their forever, always swimming in the direction that you think is right, only to keep running into more and more failure, until you eventually decide to give up. And you're only choices when you are succeeding are to either use the wide, comfortable bridge above it, the bridge that you know you can easily cross, even if you don't really learn anything from it, or the narrow one. The scary one. The one that you're not sure you can support you all the way across.

At least, that's how failure used to look to me.

And, in many ways, it still does. I still see that black hole, and those bridges. Part of me is still terrified that if I mess up--even a little--that everything I've worked for will come crashing down, and I'll never be able to go on. But, there's a part of me that sees things differently. There's a part of me that looks down into that blackness, and sees stars--glimmering lights of possibility--that I can only reach if I end up having a misstep. And each of those stars rests within a galaxy of shimmering possibilities, a rainbow array of colors more beautiful than anything I can even imagine. And each one of those lights shoots out, creating a new path and a new set of bridges, but each of these potentially more magnificent than anything else I've built up until now. Because, that's what risk does, when done right: it takes us towards new possibilities. True, it doesn't feel good to leave where we feel safe, but if we never really explore, then we'll never really get to see what we can become.

And as a teacher, I know that it's my duty to not only model for my students what that looks like, but to help support them along the way. If they choose the narrow path, the dangerous one, the one that can really help them grow, then I can walk beside them, and keep them balanced. I can also, if the bridge starts to crack, hold it up so that they will not fall, and even if they do I will be there to swim through that ocean of mysterious darkness until we find one of those infinitely beautiful pin-pricks of light that we call possibility.

Wow, that got poetically philosophical. However, I stand by it. My role as a teacher doesn't end when my kids leave the classroom. That's one of the reasons I don't mind seeing them when I'm off doing things on the weekend. I'm always doing something that I am proud my students see me do, even if they laugh. After all, if I get to choose between being weird, or being monotonous, why would I ever choose the latter?

Anyway, I've been baking. See, my room mate apparently just loves brownie cookies. So, I went online, looked at a few recipes, chose one that looked nice, and set to work.

Oh, optimism misplaced.

No sooner had I softened the butter, when I realized a slight obstacle: the recipe was in ounces. Not cups, not tsp, not tbs, but ounces. And I don't have a scale. "Ah well," I told myself, "time to improvise." So, I promptly poured in what I can only say must have been twice as much cocoa powder. I say that, because I then had to add in twice as much butter. Needless to say, it was an adventure. In the end, I had what can only really be described as slightly thick frosting.

But, feeling optimistic, I put some on a cooking tray.

Loaded it into the oven, and 10 minutes later, got this:

Aren't they pretty? And they don't taste like crap. In fact, they taste fairly decent. What can I say, backing is fun!

Speaking of fun things, in order to be a teacher, I have to write this big thing called an edTPA (it's a special kind of monster. It feeds on the hopes and dreams of prospective teachers). Right now, I'm writing a practice one, focusing on the first task (I guess they called them Tasks to either be really specific, or make it feel like you're on a cool quest! Kind of like adults who think they make a difference by rapping at kids to brush their teeth and not do drugs. If you couldn't tell, I have a low opinion of such programs). Basically, this is the setup. I tell the edTPA people what the class is like, what my lessons will be (in almost absurd detail) and then get to write a commentary. Max: 9 pages. Single spaced. And people run out of room. Basically, for this my motto should be: if it doesn't add value, don't add it in. No superfluous words. No quixotic tangents. Not even an iotic-speck of added color. Cold, clinical, and condensed.

This could get a little rough.

This has been another exciting adventure in the Austentatious. If you liked it, tell your friends; if you hated it, tell your enemies; and if you don't care either way, then tell everybody. Good night!

Chapter 2: The Beginning of the Dead

First off, I'm sorry for the piss-poor attitude from the last post. I've never exactly done transitions well, and I don't tend to notice the fact until later. Read: expect a few of those periodically as things come up that I'm not used to/ didn't expect.

Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead, a Mexican holiday), Dia de los Muertos, DIA DE LOS MUERTOS...is in about two weeks has descended upon my classroom.

And it's so cool.

So, week two went swimmingly well. There were mistakes--as there should be--but I'm learning from them. Some of them--particularly the student's written warmup--are a bit more noticeable than others--such as the fact that I still need to keep studying Spanish to really get up to fluency. Overall, though, things are going well. I've learned more kids' names, had opportunities to try new things, and am learning more about the school culture. One of my favorites: the last day of every week is a dress up day, and I love costumes. This week (I was so excited all week for this) was twin/ triplet day. So I asked my cooperating teacher (CT) if she wanted to twin it up. She said yes.

BEHOLD, the wonders of amazingness, the flamboyants of fashion, the tiers of ties:

From left to right: ____ (my wonderful CT), my self, and ____ (the other Spanish teacher).

Yes, I did show them how to tie the bows. Yes, I can do it without a mirror. I did it that way so that I'd be able to do it anywhere.

Oh, and here's the classroom (it's different now. Pics next week.):

Not too traditional, if I do say so.

And an example of a word wall:

This is up ALWAYS during class.

So, basically, here's the daily schedule of each class (until Dia de los Muertos happens):
1) Students walk in with Spanish music BLARING ("Do you dance to it?" You may ask. "Have I feet?" I reply.)
2) Attendance (rather good for learning names, not as good with mumbling faces)
3) Fuego [warmup]
4) Frantically check fuegos, and convince myself that a] I have time, and b] I must shoot for 100% accuracy, because that's how they'll learn, and c] I might not be 100% accurate now, but that's just so that I'll be 100% accurate later.
5) Go over Fuego
6) Work on story as a class
7) Work on Dia de los Muertos. 7th graders research & work on their posters, 8th graders build their altar and research their person. I usually walk around the class, and try to check in with each group at least once per day. That last part can be a little awkward with slow-working groups, because they say, "same as yesterday," and I don't really know how to respond. At this point, I don't want to say, "you're wasting time,"--because I'm the kind of person who processes in the background, looks like he's not doing stuff, then does everything when my brain stops percolating, and I don't know the kids nearly well enough to know the difference--but I know that I will need to soon. 
8) Students estimate their own participation score, and go.

And that's the basic class. For four periods every day (one period is for prep, and one is for Social Studies). I know that it might not sound exciting, but I'm loving it. There's just such a positive, frantic energy to the classroom, the kind that I haven't really felt since Japan. In my experiences, I never felt anything like this working with elementary schoolers. We were always too nervous about them getting lost.

Anyway, the fun thing about working in a school will always be the stories that I can get out of it. First off, the narrative stories. Yes, I got to guide a group through the first part, which starts with an image, and gets into developing a character. It reminded me a lot of improv club, at times. Basically, the teacher elicits answers by asking a question (in Spanish), which the students are expected to respond to in Spanish. Here's an example of a character that we made (written by me):

My handwriting is so much better than it was...

So, we started with the image (ghost), then we got a name (Clyde). The class decided that he had no hair, and two-purple eyes (Have I mentioned that these kids are the gaudiest kids on the planet? They make Las Vegas look earthy-toned in comparison. It fills me with such glee), and is angry. We also have Sebastian the pan de muerto, Casper the ghost (that one made me smile), but it was the last one that I liked the best.

So, the CT's leading. We have our image--pan (Spanish for bread)--and she's asking for names. "Three Grain Variety" one students says. "Garfield," says another. Then we get down to the last student. The quiet one. The one who never says much, but clearly has a lot going through his head. The teacher calls on him. "Peter," he says, muttering a second word. "?Que?" The teacher replies. "Peter pan!" He calls out. And the entire class promptly loses it. Because, quite frankly, it was one of the more creative names of the week. So, naturally, we are writing a story about Peter pan, and it is glorious.

One last note: Social Studies. The teacher had the kids go through a simulation the other day, based on the plague. See, they've been studying the medieval period, and he wanted them to get an idea what the spread would be like (also, side note: the textbook failed to mention that the plague was probably spread by the fact that the mongols like catapulting dead, plague filled bodies into cities. Really, it makes me question just what they find important.) How it worked was the kids went, "city" to, "city," and pulled beans out of a bag depending on the number of nights they stayed. If they pulled all white beans, they were fine. If they pulled out a red bean, they got the plague, while a speckled bean gave them cholera. They then spread 1 or 2 beans to the next town, and rolled to see if they got to be the 1 in 36 who survived (none of them were). All that I can say is, my goodness, but there was a lot of death. about 1/3 of the kids dies of the plague while about half the kids died overall (cholera was a bigger threat than normal. C'est la vid). Still, it was a fun experience. The kids then started talking about it online. It was fun to see their posts, ranging from insightful to...lacking a certain ju nu se pa...such as depth, or more than two words. 

Anyway, time for bed. Tomorrow begins another week, a Happy Monday, and desolate faces wishing for a longer weekend.

This has been another (actually) exciting adventure in the Austentatious. If you liked it, tell your friends. If you hated it, tell your enemies. And if you don't care either way, then tell everyone. Good night.
 

Chapter 1: The First Week

Because this is the first week, and there's just so much going on, I'm going to try to go day by day, and then have a big review at the very end. This way, I can go chunk by chunk, without being overwhelmed by the totality of existence (or student teaching, I forget which).

Day 1: Oh man, do I ever feel discombobulated and out of my depth. I love my CT [cooperating teacher]'s ideas, and I love her classroom, but it's all just so new that half way through the first class my brain went, "well, I am off to the Bahamas! Don't try to call, I will be off the grid, see you all next year." However, being in my head, it couldn't leave, and so just decided to sulk for the rest of the day.
I can honestly say that this is my first real experience with public school during the school year, and I can feel some differences. The kids are great, but everything felt a bit more chaotic than I'm used to. Then again, it could also be due to, "four weeks in, NEW PERSON IN THE CLASSROOM!" No matter how old they are, I'd always expect that one to freak people out.
Oh, and I had my first mistake-followed-by-apology today! I accidentally called a girl, "he." Needless to say, I felt absolutely terrible, and apologized. After the activity, I went up to her to apologize again. I just feel as though people should be recognized in the classroom as who they are, and by calling her, "he," I wasn't respecting that. Still, lesson learned.
Anyway, one last thought: I really like how my CT does her lessons. There's a ton of student input, where she basically has the class crow-source the writing of stories. These have included a pink-gorilla's adventures with two dancing teachers in coconut bras; a giant golden pretzel being friends with a chupacabra named Regina George, falling in love with a purple pretzel named Gretchen Weiners (who was promptly thrown off the leaning tower of Pisa by Regina), and being eaten by Regina. Don't worry, she threw him up. There have also been cars in love with their wheels, a garbage can in love with the teacher, and Squidward. Basically, I love what happens when kids are allowed to let their imaginations go free. Tomorrow should include acting (yay), so let's see how things work!

Day 2: Did not include acting. But that's teaching in a nutshell--being flexible with the time you have when the students are really engaged. Today definitely felt a lot better. There was less chaos, and I was  hint more familiar with the place.
I am also quite impressed. I watched about seven students stand up today--in front of their entire class--and try to tell the classes story. In Spanish. Almost completely from memory. Keep in mind that some of these kids have been speaking the language for about one-month. Yet all of them were able to speak for over a minute (one of the 8th graders managed four-minutes). I will say this, they know the vocabulary they're using very, very well.
That's about it for today. There weren't any major mistakes (minus my momentary failure to understand how pens work, and moving a slide forward one second too early), and we'll see how tomorrow goes. At the very least they're doing their Run for Gray (fun run), so that will be exciting!

Day 3: There was acting. It was wonderful, over the top, hammy acting. Also, I let my frustrations get the better of me, and made a terrible mistake. I got angry at someone from George Fox who didn't deserve it, and feel absolutely terrible about it. Do I still feel as though I was justified? Yes, but that doesn't change the fact that what I did was mean and not handled very well. Needless to say, an apology from me is in order.

(Just a heads up, I'm watching the debates as I write the rest of this. As a citizen--and a voter--I feel as though it is important for me to watch the debates. That being said, this one seems to have entirely no substance, and is like eating the vomit-inducing dish that your relative made, 'just for you.' I know that it's important for me to get through it, but I'll be darned if I don't want to flay my taste buds.)

(Also, to answer the question that I've already been asked: my students act like they're in Middle School. I've never understood the question, "how do your students behave?" What should I say? They're all monsters? They're all angels? They are a statistically perfect mix of the two? Some classes might be easier than others, but even then--and I repeat myself--they act their age.)

So, after day three, I stopped going day by day. Quite frankly, I just didn't have the time. One of the fun things about being a student teacher is that I get to work a full, eight (sometimes more) hour day, then go home to work on a) homework, and b) all the fun practice stuff to figure out how to write an edTPA. The edTPA is the big, "can you do it?" thing that I send to the state. It shows that you can plan, execute, and reflect on teaching, and it's a huge pain in the rear. Having said that, the kind of pain depends on your content area. For me, I'm writing mine on teaching Spanish--hence why I'm in Spanish...

I'm tired! (if you couldn't tell)

I just realized. I'm tired, exhausted, and have no recourse. I had five days at a new place, new environment, new people (was I really feeling OK, or am I just so tired that I'm numb?) followed by eight hours of class yesterday. I am nonsensical, and having a hard time keeping focused. But, really truly, that's par for the course. No one said that this would be easy--I certainly wasn't thinking about it that way--but I do feel as though giving us a Saturday class after our first week was just bad planning. I'm sorry--I feel like I shouldn't be complaining about this, especially because they used the class to explain more about the edTPA and give us more time to let things sink in--but it is a major bone of contention for me at this moment. Then again, it's a great lesson on teaching. Something can look flawless on paper (we'll totally have time for this) but looks terrible in reality. Teachers can't just look at these things from a teacher perspective. We also have to look at these things from the perspective of what is going on with the student. And, really, that applies outside of the classroom to life itself. Just because we can do something doesn't mean that we should. People need time to process and actually relax, especially after something stressful. Ah well, lesson learned.

So, what am I going to take away from my first week of student teaching? First off, I can do this. I have to believe that, otherwise this isn't going to work. Secondly, I adore my cooperating teacher. She' fun, she's nerdy, and she really knows my stuff. She also is very good at calling me out on my crap (especially pronunciation) and runs an amazing classroom. Thirdly, this is not going to be the sound of music. I'm not just going to start everyone in a sing along, and have us all become friends.

That's what dancing is for.

This has been a (surprisingly) subdued episode in the adventures of the austentatious. If you liked it, tell your friends. If you hated it, tell your enemies. And if you didn't care either way, then tell everyone. Good night. 

 

Prologue: The Night Before...

Ugh...
I am nervous (I think understandably so). Tomorrow, I start my student teaching at Robert Gray Middle School, and boy, what a weekend. Friday--being my last day at OES--was hard. Like, really hard. Which I know sounds very strange, especially given the way that I usually speak, but I cannot think of any other way to describe it. I was invited to give a speech during Middle School chapel--What does home mean to you, and what did OES give you/ what did you learn after OES?--and I broke down during my speech. I don't regret doing so, because I think that it's important for teens to see that it's OK for a grown man to cry, but I do think that it put a damper on what should otherwise have been an exciting Homecoming celebration.
Anyway, Saturday and Sunday were both filled with things to do. Saturday was homework, biking the route I'll take to work (the hills...the hills...guess I'll have to provide my own music), shopping for a few things, depositing the last paycheck I'll get for about six months. Having lunch with my dad, step mom, and sister...things like that. Anyway, I moved into a new apartment about two weeks ago, and unpacking has been a little tough. I just don't have much furniture. So, today I finally got a few things that I've been needing. I got a few plastic drawers (on sale) to act as a chest of drawers. I got a bookshelf (on sale) so I can put away some of my books. I also got a TV stand, so the box-that-brings-Netflix no longer has to sit on the floor. And let me tell you, putting all those things together took a long, long time (pictures later...scratch that, after I clean a bit, video of the apartment later).
So, if you couldn't tell, I'm trying to ignore tomorrow. Why? Well, like I said, I'm nervous. Quite frankly, I think that's a good thing. Let's look at my recent teaching experiences. I went over to Japan, thinking that it was going to be just like Summer Camp (and just like Oregon), and that I'd just breeze through and have no problems. "Ah", he said, three years later, "the naivety of youth." I get back, subbing goes well--though there are some intense struggles, a portent to come--and then Summer is *mostly* amazing. School year comes along, and I think a year in Kindergarten (my hardest age group, I had already found out) and Second grade was going to be challenging, but relatively straight forward. But what do you know, having a less centralized curriculum means that you have to be a bit more willing to go with the flow. Still, I learned a ton, and I am so incredibly thankful for the experience.
Now, we come to tonight. Tomorrow means new kids, a new place, and a new way of doing things (it's a whole new way to see [do-do-do do doo doooo]). I am terrified. I am excited for all of the glorious mistakes that I'm going to learn from this year--at least, that's what I keep telling myself--but I'm also terrified. I think, deep down inside, that I just don't want the things around me to change. A week ago, I knew where everything was, and how everything worked. Now...all that I have are my wits, and what small amount of knowledge I've learned to get me through. And even though it's terrifying, I know that it will be good for me. I will have experiences that I never otherwise would have had, and get wisdom from people I never otherwise would have met. I just have to remember a few things. 1) I am, at this moment, a temporary guest at this place. In all probability, in six months I will be moving on to different things, while they will continue to be there. Therefore, it is my duty to not only get to know how to best serve them, but to ensure that I cause as few disruptions as possible. 2) Though a kind of perfection should be my goal, it will not be the end of the world if I never achieve it. Everyone is expecting me to be new at this, and to make strange mistakes. So long as I not only take them with tranquility, but a mind open to learn from them, I will be fine. 3) I will get out of this what I put in. I assume that it will be completely possible for me to get by with a minimum of effort. I simply go in, do what I need to do, say what I need to say, stay as long as I need to stay, and then get out. However, by doing so I cheat not only myself, but my students. They deserve my best, and only by giving my best can I grow as much as I can. I should take as many risks and opportunities now as I can, when it's a safe environment. It might shake me to the core, but it's the least that I can do.

One last thing, before I sign off. I like baking. No, actually, I love baking. So, to quiet my nerves. I made apple sauce tonight. I wasn't thinking far enough forward to take pictures (sad face) but I'm sharing the recipe all the same. It's perfect for a cold-weather night, and enjoy.
1) Discover that your new room mate brought apples, and they should probably be eaten soon.
2) Put about 3/4 of an inch of water in the bottom of a large pan, and set it on the stove on mid-low.
3) Slice an apple, then remember that you have no way to peel it. Recall a tool your roomie had mentioned earlier, and dig frantically through the Good Will pile to find it. Smile at yourself when you do.
4) Slice and peel five apples, and put them carefully in the water.
5) Add a sixth apple (golden delicious, though oddly tart, you note) as well, for flavor texture.
6) Note the slight smoke creeping up the back side of the pan, and worry that the apartment will burn down.
7) Imagine the apartment burning down, and check under the pot.
8) Turn the heat up to the highest, in the vain hope that it will stop the smoke.
9) Pick up the pot, and realize that the burner is just burning off a weird residue. Reset the heat to medium-low.
10) Hear water boiling, and add in a boat load of sugar.
11) Hope that you added in enough sugar.
12) Open your new cinnamon, and realize that there's a piece of paper underneath. Despite your feeble attempts, the paper will not come off. Poke holes instead, and shake in vain until a small amount of cinnamon comes out.
13) Add in your brand new cloves and nutmeg. Curse at how much nutmeg come streaming out.
14) Shake your cinnamon wildly, and add in more sugar until the smell of nutmeg has been reduced from a global deluge to a local flood. Hope that you did enough.
15) Mix them all together, and wait until the apples are mushy.
16) Remove apple slices from the soup, and mash them with a fork. Yay, apple sauce.
17) Put the soup in mugs, and drink it like it's delicious apple cider. Yay, warm drink.

There we go, recipe done. Anyway, this has been another Adventure in the Austentatious. If you liked it, tell your friends. If you hated it, tell your enemies. And if you didn't care either way, then tell everyone. Good night.