Drawing closer.

We went to Indianapolis this past weekend; now writing this, I can't believe it's already been a week. The days are moving so quickly and by the time I get home, I cannot motivate myself to do anything, pack anything, sort anything. I need to develop a plan.

Needless to say, I've never been to someone's "home" before. They had a real home, with a basement and a breakfast nook and a yard (with a real white picket fence). We had a little guest room, and a bed and a night stand and people asked us if they could "get us" anything. It's a reinforcement of an "us" and also of a "future."

On Friday night, we went for dinner once CA and I finally arrived. (He had had to make a stop at Chick Filet [I'm aware that there's a stranger, marketed way to spell it, but I am too lazy to search for it] whilst on the road and we left a little later than we had previously anticipated). It gave me a strange feeling, a married couple showing me around their little town (not that Indy is a "little town..." far from it, actually). CA and I were exhausted, but laid in bed for quite some time talking about houses, and the creaking that this place made. He could not quite comprehend the fact that indeed his friends were pregnant.

On Saturday, we got roasted at the parade after going to this cozy place called Taste for breakfast. I was only able to consume a HALF of their locks/bagel (which was incredible), but, the food was delicious and the place was mobbed. We headed to the Indy500 parade after that. JH's company sponsor's the parade, so we were able to get "VIP" seating (ie we were near the announcers...the Indy500 really represents the midwest at its best...down home seating).

Afterwards, we went back to JH/AH's house for a bbq with their friends. I've been to my fair share of BBQs; they are a midwestern staple of existence. There's got to be a football, and some bacce ball, and someone has to bring their dog (in this case, it was a massive bulldog named Lucile). In this case, there was corn, and steaks and completely fatty/to-die-for dips. It is fascinating how gender lines divide so quickly at a bbq. The men always cluster around the grill and women end up putting unnecessary plastic wrap around tupperware containers in the kitchen. I found myself getting CA a beer and noticed other women doing the same. It was without a doubt bizarre.

That night, we had an important talk which was spurred on by his "declaration" of love.

When we talked about houses, I said to him, "You know, I never thought about myself as someone's wife." In his slightly-tipsy state, he got shocked and thought I meant that I had no intention of being his wife. But, I explained, "In high school, people pegged me for the one to get married first. But, I never saw myself as that. Self-delusional or self-aware, I'm not entirely sure which label to apply. Even in all the time of dating (that other guy), I wasn't really sure I wanted to be his wife. I talked a good game, but when it came down to it, it was difficult to picture folding someone else's laundry when they wouldn't let you touch them. So, once I realized that this was what I wanted with you, I've been finding myself saying the word 'wife,' quietly, at moments when I see other couples being happy. I'm trying it out. And I like it."

So we talked about partnership and how that doesn't even mean financial. We talked about what it meant in relation to his needing to get his wrist operated on and what it meant if I was going back to school in three or four years. We talked about the ramifications of different religions and what it would mean to raise children together. We talked about so much of it, making sure it all worked, or at least could be worked on. Eventually, we fell stickily asleep, and happily too.

The next morning was race day!


JH had made an adorable "get pumped" mix for the car ride over, including Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody," something by AC/DC and Kansas' "Carry on my Wayward Son." The race itself was loud and filled with fried food and sunburn. All in all a delicious day.

We awoke early, bid farewell to JH and headed back home, this time with me driving. We stopped at that chicken place yet again (I am vaguely convinced that he loves it more than he loves me) and also at a place called Fair Oaks Farms where I procured some cheese curds and some cheese for my dad.

We arrived back in Chicago and I decided, definitively, that it was the kick-off of a wonderful summer.

I'm stressed and flustered now, wondering how things are going to get done before the end of the school year. I need to write letters to my eighth graders to tell them how special they are.

I had my last class with them today, which was much more difficult than I anticipated it to be. Kids brought in ice cream and told me, "Don't worry, you're getting the best present in the world from me next week." I gave them reflection sheets, and as they were writing I walked around and glanced at them.

From one child who was my nemisis at the beginning of the year, who now I might miss most of all when asked what was hardest from them and why: Class participation was the hardest because sometimes the books were too hard and I just didn't know what was going on. This made me understand his behavior so much more than I had previously. It made complete sense; I had guessed that the book had initially been overwhelming, but seeing it in writing confirmed it.

From one child who had a problem handing work in, who I was always on about it when asked what they would change about the class: Well, it's not really about you. I would hand my damn work in more. I really loved your class; it was the best at the school. I should have tried more. I loved this girl. She played the lead in the musical, was always a little gawky, and despite her ninja-like stealthiness, I really loved her. When I read this, I almost started crying.

But, when I got this from one child who I had a decent reparte with all year, I lost it: I liked being in your class. I felt connected to people and the discussions. I wanted even more of them. Even when the books made no sense, I liked talking about them and being here. I felt smart here and you helped me write well. I work better now and am more respectful. You were the best. I told them that they had made my first year as a teacher incredible; I know next week at graduation, I'm going to be a big mess.


Overall, it's been a pretty emotional week; I am even getting sentimental about my little nuggets. I cannot stand how adorable, precocious, and altogether stunningly beautiful they are. I have a video of them singing and dancing like crazy people and I find myself snapping pictures of them at all times. I've come to adore them, and I think they'll break my heart when I watch them leave.

Today, one of the math teachers began to tell their class, "You know, we think about you for years and years after you leave us. And you'll forget us so soon." "No we won't!" the class chimes. And in some cases, it's true. I remember all of my teachers. But, perhaps they were just good ones.

I've been feeling, lately, like I didn't do enough. But, as the end draws closer, I keep hoping that I did.

Forgetfulness.

I'm off to Indianapolis for the weekend with CA and his friends. I'm a little nervous but it should be a good time.

I was searching for a picture on my hard drive and flipped through all my pictures from the start of Boston to now and could not believe myself, recalling the memories and realizing, bit by bit, how different I am from the person who packed her bags and headed to Boston in September of '06. That time seems so close to right now and I'm realizing that it's not so close at all. An entire new class of AIE students will graduate in a few short weeks and here I am remembering.

I can't believe the me that I am sometimes. For better and worse, this me is so drastically different from the high school ME or even the college ME that sometimes I forget that people only know the old me. I can't wait to see where it all goes.

Sometimes I forget things like that day when we went apple picking and everything was perfect. Sometimes I forget that I was fortunate enough to go to Argentina. Sometimes, I forget that there is so much in the world.

Finalized!

Vancouver is all set! The school is paying for almost everything and when the conference is done, CA and I are going to spend some time up there together! I'm really stoked. This summer is shaping up to be amazing.

May 24-26: Indiana for the Indianapolis 500 with CA and his friends
June 7-13: St. Maarten
June 15: moving to LSD
July 6-14: Vancouver

Yay!

Vancouver 2008

Yay!


Congratulations! We are delighted to inform you that your submission "Integration Fostering Imagination" has been accepted for presentation at Summer Institute on Imaginative Education which is being held July 7th through 9th, 2008 at the Delta Vancouver Airport Hotel in Richmond, BC.

I'm pretty excited! The school should fund a lot of the trip so it really should just be getting there. I've never lead a round-table discussion before and KB and I are really excited to get to do it together. Sometime this week she and I need to put together a package to explain what kind of funding we're going to need.

This summer is shaping up to be AWESOME!

House?

I used to think that I might be making it all up in my head. I think, even as a child, I had a cognizant fear that I was not enough. A lot of only children end up with this fear, and I let it run deeply through me. I was so worried that no one would want me.

This fear only got worse in high school. I was dumped by everyone I dated because even when I knew I was holding on too long, I kept holding. I was terrified that if I let this one go, there wouldn't be another one. There always was (and I don't mean that conceitedly, I just meant that I don't learn to think logically) and I held on to them too long too.

College was the worst example of clinging. Simply said.

So, in this situation, I feared the worst (as I am wont to do). My mother (and assumably, if we call it honestly, most other people) figured I'd jumped ship with CA to ease the discomfort of being out of a five year relationship. I worried that dating someone I, at the time, barely knew long-distance was not the wisest of decisions. I feared, too, everything I couldn't see.

Then I moved home, and he finished the bar and we started spending that Honeymoonish time together. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. I assumed that eventually he'd tell me he was too busy with work. Or that he couldn't be around. Or that I was more of a nusiance than a help. All the time, I found my life better and better for him being in it.

Around my birthday, I got the first inkling that I wanted to burst outward with, "I am in love with you." I held off, because I was not going to be foolish about it. Around Christmas, when he went home and was so incredibly worried about the gift he was giving to me, I found myself thinking of him constantly. I couldn't stop. So I wrote him an email simply saying that I couldn't wait for the new year to begin because I knew it'd be a year that I spent with him.

We began to say it, tentatively, around Valentine's Day. We came back from Tahoe crazy about each other. It was, by far, the most romantic weekend of my life. But as the month of February progressed, I realized that it had nothing to do with skiing and massages and gin-sticky kisses. It had everything to do with him.

But still, I kept waiting for something to backfire. Just in case.

It hasn't. And every time I try to explain what I can picture in the expanse of the one moment that you whispered, "Let's have a house," I feel like a fool. I'm completely cognizant that there are going to be arguments and at some point one of us will yell angrily. But, in that moment, I could, without fear, imagine you and your arms and never sleeping alone again. I imagine quiet nights and not wondering and feeling safe. It all begun the night you told me I would never have to be alone again.

And when I told you, last night, that I would never leave you, you believed me.

This is really going to happen. And I couldn't be happier. I just want to hear it over and over again, "I am in love with you." It's like you're touching me, even from far away. I want to be your road, that goes and goes.

Camp Timberlee 2008

Last Wednesday-Friday, I went to Camp Timberlee in Wisconsin with the fifth graders. I was not looking forward to the experience in the slightest. I have never been a big fan of nature, nor did I think I was going to do well sardine-style in a room with four other teachers, sharing a bathroom with them AND five eleven year olds for three days. The students also knew I called this the "stupid nature trip" since the beginning of the year.

However, it was awesome and made me completely energized to continue working with these kids next year too. I got to be partners with MD which was great because we had such an energized time with the kids. We started out with our first activity being rock climbing which I was completely not planning on doing. However, when the kids wanted MD and I to do it, we thought about it and I, kind of shakily, made it to the top of the wall. Whenever I tried something new, the kids were jazzed up and wanted to try it too. It made me realize that perhaps children aren't nearly as time-consuming as I previously realized. Either way, both MD and I made it to the top of the wall and almost all the kids did too. (Except they were spider monkeys).

We did a lot of other completely rockin' stuff too, including building fires and touching snakes. I was really prepared to NOT do that activity, but after watching my kid, Motorcycle (which is his nickname), literally cuddle a snake, I realized that I could do it too. Initially, I touched the python, but after warming up a little bit, I let the moderator put it around my neck. I look a little bit skeptical in the picture, but it was just because the snake felt so odd on my skin, it just....you can feel it moving which feels far stranger than I can describe. However, it was totally awesome and if I felt accomplished afterwards. I cannot imagine how the students felt.

The entire experience brings out this other side of my kids, watching them hike, or take leadership roles or be generally excited about what they're doing. I watched certain kids conquer fears of spending a night away from home and others just be excited because they touched a chinchila. Whatever it was, they were thrilled to get to do it together and to get to do it with their teachers.

One of the neatest things we did was have a campfire. I led a bunch of "camp" songs (ie songs from the video game Guitar Hero) and cooked s'mores (Kosher Style) for the kiddos. I'm always surprised when I listen to them, or when I tried to just sit down for a moment and they're crowding me because they simply want to be near me. I find myself in the classroom snapping a bit at them for always being up in my business (so to speak) but out there, I realized just how excited they were when it was just a little bit of attention from MD or myself. They didn't need anything incredible, just a feeling that we were watching them.

I also got to do my favorite thing in the world and teach poetry. I did a neat bagging activity, with shredded words, and they had to put them together to try to form a poem. We talked about word meaning how the same words can tell us such very different things. I worked with all three groups of kids (we mixed them up so they weren't in their regular gibush--homeroom--groups) and it was a good eye opener to different students' levels and things like that. But, mainly, I love it when I get to talk about words. There's something incredibly meaningful to me about watching students get "into" an assignment and wanting to share it with me. I like asking questions and listening to them intently, because they come up with things that just blow me away a lot of the time. Like Picasso said, sometimes we need to have eyes like a child. So, this was a really awesome experience to have eyes like they do.

Overall, I had an amazing time with them. I got to hang out with my little baby E. And get constantly bombarded by the kiddos. But, I think it was a really good experience. I can't wait to follow them into the next grade! And most of the time, I can't believe how great it is to teach there.