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saranaide
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Name: Sara
Country: United States
State: North Carolina
Gender: Female
Interests: People, music, poetry, woods, kids, teaching, friends, family and of course the guy....
Expertise: Piano, soup-making, knocking things over, driving manual transmission cars, bargain-hunting, second-guessing myself.
Occupation: Piano teacher, homemaker, and
Message: message me
Member Since:
6/28/2005
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| Shannon Hale's kids books are great, and this foray into adult material is even better. It features a 30-something graphic designer with a disastrous love life and a secret, deeply passionate love for Mr. Darcy of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. Jane's character charmed me, mostly. When she irritated me, it was because she hit a little too close to my home of conservative evangelical/ homeschool neurosis about relationships, where every encounter with the opposite sex is a much- analyzed possible!!! prelude to life-partnership. Jane's small inheritance from a distant relative sympathetic to her crush on The Ideal Man sends her to Austenland, a modern-day, Regency- period-accurate resort that seeks to recreate the Austen experience of courtship and love. Jane resolves to put her obsession to rest... and it almost works.
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| Well, I've decided that since I again have ridiculous amounts of free time, I should revive this thing.
Everything's changing this summer, but we don't know when, how, or even exactly where. We'd like to move to a metro area in our fair state, preferably the lovely capital (which recently made some list of best places to live in the U.S of A.) I'm a handy dandy portable piano teacher, so I'm fine. Justin's looking hard for a job teaching music in some school from grade school on up to high school, or somewhere in between. Fly little applications! We're going through stamps like crazy and waiting by the phone. Also reading lots of books and playing lots of video games and starting to pack our life in boxes.
It was pretty tough to say goodbye to Mark. He was totally fine, he was zinging out the door on a summer vacation high that last day of school. But I have to admit that after he left, I went into the ladies room to have a good cry. I hope they find a good replacement for me. I honestly don't know what I'm going to do for stories anymore, now that I won't have Mark stories to tell. But working in that school environment was extremely stressful, I won't miss that.
So many issues with low income schools.... I can see why they struggle so much, and I have huge respect for low income schools that succeed because they really are beating a lot of odds. The kids come from a culture that doesn't value education and probably doesn't trust The System all that much. So to begin with, the kids in general seem pretty under motivated to learn and not terribly respectful of authority. A lot of these kiddos come from neighborhoods where there's a lot of drug dealing, increasing gang activity, craziness like that. In some cases, the drug dealers are the parents. And I've heard rumors that some of the gangs are starting to recruit younger and younger, down in the grade school years even, which kind of makes me sick to my stomach. So, these little guys are dealing with some pretty serious stuff. They live in a dog-eat-dog world, and that's often how they treat each other and their teachers. And the teachers often can't really relate. I know little suburban me has a hard time even imagining what's really going on when some of these little guys get home. Even discipline is extremely difficult. You'd like to reinforce positive behavior with rewards, and teach these guys what respect looks like by treating the kids respectfully. But often what happens is that teachers get caught in a very negative cycle of leaning heavily on consequences, yelling at kids.... Because that's often the only thing that seems to get their attention. It seems to me that that sort of approach works short term, but long term it ends up turning the classroom into even more of a battleground.
And teachers burn out quickly in that kind of environment, especially in the upper elementary grades. Fourth and fifth grade teachers don't have full-time teacher assistants, and yet their classes are often the hardest to deal with in this kind of a culture. They also have more complex subject matter to teach and they now have the almighty End of Grade Tests looming over their heads. Those EOGS determine how much federal funding the school gets, which seems to mostly go into Title 1 programs which provide academic support for low income kids who need extra help. Now that funding is based on those test scores from that single three-day round of tests. Doesn't matter that discipline referrals are down, that more kids passes third grade this year than last, that test scores are up slightly (up significantly in third) in every grade but one. The school I worked at last year did not meet annual progress goals as determined by the EOG scores, so they lose federal funding. They will have to cut one regular classroom teacher and one Title 1 teacher position next year, leaving the kids with oh wait bigger class sizes and LESS help to achieve the same goals next year! Does this seem completely insane to anyone else? That's our fearless leader's great contribution to education, No Child Left Behind. Dear Mr. President, YOU'RE LEAVING KIDS BEHIND! Love, Sara.
I think all the focus on standardized testing is a load of hooey anyway. It's an entire year's worth of material crammed into one four hour test a day for three days. You show me an eight year old that can even sit still that long, let alone concentrate for a test that size. The classroom tests in third grade are a half hour, max. Besides which, it holds kids to an absolute standard that does not really exist. Nobody starts life on a level playing field. These guys were behind before they were even born. But those tests are the be-all and end-all for how the school is judged for federal funding, how principals keep their jobs, how parents and the public are encouraged to view the school. I think that if we even keep the stupid things, we need to develop a much more holistic view of how we measure and fund education. We need to focus much more on recruiting, nurturing, SUPPORTING and empowering excellent teachers, and we need to evaluate kids and teachers based on say, a portfolio of their whole school lives and accomplishments rather than holding them to some arbitrary standard that is far too easy for some and far too difficult for others.
But what do I know anyway.
Sorry for the soapbox, that one's been percolating all year.
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| Reasons I love my little autistic charge:
The class was studying the ballad of Mulan a couple weeks ago. At the end of the chapter was a short section on Chinese symbols with some simple Chinese words printed, and cute little story involving a man, a woman, and a mountain using the symbols. Well Mark was completely fascinated by the whole thing. All week he was waiting for this moment when we got to study Chinese writing. He sat and listened intently to the story, which was somewhat unusual. When the teacher assigned a writing project using the symbols, he was even more thrilled. Usually, this child would rather bang his head against a wall than write (slight exageration), but this time he flew through it completely unassisted. I just sat back, impressed. The time came to share the stories with the class. Well, Mark couldn't wait. His hand was up and waving frantically through one generic, cutesy little story about boys and sun and mountains after another. Finally, the it was the moment of truth. He bounced out of his chair, crossed his arms over his chest with pride and read:
"Once there was a man with a FIRE sword. He call himself FIRE king. His enemy is ICE man. He fight him on the MOUNTAIN."
And he sat down hard in his chair, beaming from ear to ear.
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| So we're now living in a real live actual HOUSE instead of an apartment. Towards the end of the summer, we were eating out with a contractor friend and his wife, and they mentioned that they'd just lost the tenant in their rental house and were stressed about finding a new person to occupy it, were really praying hard that they'd find the right people, etc etc. Cute little remodeled two bedroom, historic property, closer to the highway rent the same as we were paying for the apartment... They just didn't know what to do! Coincidently, our lease was due to expire the following week. Seemed like kind of a no-brainer. It has a yard! And a garden! And a big long carpeted hallway for the cats to rumpus in! And it's really cute! And it's painted my favorite shade of green!
Band season is back in full swing. Tis the season for sousaphones. Justin's got a rollicking Beatles show cooking. And things aren't quite the nightmare of stress they were last band season, but I still have a husband who drags himself in the door after a 12 hour non-stop workday three days a week, and an unbelievable 17 hour workday one night a week, with a possible band competition on Saturday. Band directoring is not for the faint of heart, and neither is marriage to one.
I had the second-worst experience of my life this summer. Justin's stomach lining succumbed to the stress of his job many months ago, so when he started having abdominal pain and severe nausea the second day of band camp, he thought it was more of the same. He looked so bad at lunch time that he finally went home under protest. After band camp was over, I went home to a ghostly-pale and miserable-looking man who informed me that we were going to the hospital. This scared me. Justin is no wuss, however pale, slender and nerdy he may appear. Have I ever mentioned that I hate the smell of hospitals? We were admitted by a kind nurse after Justin told her his pain scale was off the charts, and we waited 45 minutes for morphine and a doctor. I think sitting helplessly and cluelessly in the antiseptic green of an emergency room exam room waiting for a doctor while your husband groans quietly in agony is one of the worse feelings in life. Painkillers finally came, enabling Justin to make wisecracks once again, doctors and nurses came in, tests were run, all of which took about four hours (or maybe four years) before the verdict was given that the appendix was the likely culprit. Have I mentioned that I really hate hospitals? Justin was whisked away to surgery. I was given directions to the family waiting room. At that hour of the night, it was in a very dim hallway, locked and silent. They paged a janitor with the key and left me alone. There were fish; supposed to be soothing I suppose, they all darted away when I walked up to their tank. The room was full of pamphlets on grief counseling, for hospice services, rehabilitation services, etc. This was not what I wanted to see. It finally occurred to me that neither of Justin's parents knew what was going on. Halfway through my conversation with his dad, our new landlord and his wife walked in. A faint, angelic light shone above their heads. I could hear far-off trumpets. There is nothing like the feeling of just not being alone anymore. I really was wondering how I was going to make it through waiting out this surgery, trying to push away morbid visions of a worst-case scenarios and widowhood at the age of 24 with only the neurotic fish for moral support. My friends were soon joined by band parents and more church members. It would have felt like a party, if I'd had Justin's knack for making light of a hard situation. When the phone rang, and the nurse on the other end told me Justin was out of surgery and recovering beautifully, I could have kissed her. Before I knew it, I was on an elevator up to see my slightly groggy husband, who was already giving the nurse a hard time; she was loving it, of course.
Justin's recovery was perfect, or would have been if he'd have sat still. I told him he's not allowed to get sick again. To say I don't handle it well is like saying that our cats have a little bit of energy.
Bah. I'm late for the football game.
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| This is appalling! Months without a post!
Justin and I just got back from a lovely road trip to Canada. Great to spend a week with little to do besides enjoy the great outdoors and each other. We got to visit John and Betty and co. as well, also a blast, and stopped in to see Opa and Oma and talk with them and liberate their backyard of some delicious raspberries. I have such wonderful relatives. Opa and Oma were and are agents of a great generational blessing. A special kind of grace, to have so much love and wisdom and life and humor in your family despite everything that could and does divide.
The kitties spent the week at my folks house with my mom and dad and their new kitten Mika (who is almost as beautiful as our cats :) I think they miss Cary. They're wandering around our apartment sniffing everything and looking a little confused.
I caught a pike this week! Ugly, slimy fish. Big teeth. Scary eyes. I even cleaned it, which was a little traumatic for me and more so for the fish as it seems they don't necessarily die even when half filleted. Gross.
Justin expanded his literary horizons this week- I got him hooked on Eddings fantasy. Chalk another one up for the nerds!
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