A postcard arrived for me from Hong Kong yesterday, which was a treat of enormous proportions on several levels. Sent by Aga, my brilliant scientifically minded roommate who introduced me to Polish culture, the minute gesture of sending cordial greetings on a unassuming 4 x 6 served as a hello, a treasure from Asia, and mostly as a comforting reminder that there is a vast world beyond the horizon visible on this pacific island.

Aga is an adventurist. Ever since our freshman dormitory days of nerdishly cool parties with unforgivably poor vodka and musings of star constellations, Aga consistently transformed the terrain of Berkeley into a land meant for exploring and a setting for memorable stories. And so Berkeley became; whether it was chasing people in banana suits into the sunset, witnessing deer battles that commenced on the hillsides, hammock lounging on rooftops, biking in a “tour de Franzia” competition. Recently, Aga elected to take a train ride across Siberia and experience the traveler’s life from Eastern Europe- all the way to Hong Kong, China.

Here, story comes to an abrupt halt, a place of blank space. I have no idea how her trip went. I’ve been to some of the places in Asia she has; like Yangshuo, the place on the postcard, China’s Yosemite. When Bill Clinton visited China during his presidency, Yangshuo was on the itinerary, so you can bet this location is one of China’s winners both culturally and aesthetically. Yet, traveling is not just about aesthetics and Lonely Planet culture excerpts. Well, at least, I don’t like to think that is what makes it addicting, and definitely not why someone would endure an uncomfortable inter-country train ride for.

Aga’s returned from her travels and back at Berk, continuing on an academic track I can only watch movies about. The semester’s started, and the Campanile bells on campus are ringing three times a day again. Somewhere in the Pacific, I lost my voice yelling across a flooded classroom what the word “mandatory” means, as in “it is mandatory that you turn in your homework!” Our days have gone from being synchronized daily rituals of dining commons meals with slight variations in class scheduling, to waking up in different regions of the world. The postcard shatters the distance, and for a brief while brings out that familiar feeling of connection that only a postcard in the hand can muster.

Yesterday

Yesterday was June 17th. It was the closing of a 9 month chapter. It ended with ice cream, hugs, a final round of Around the World and Horse, a final parent meeting, a few thank yous, and a few goodbyes.

I guess I will miss my students after all. I know that even if I come back and visit, it won't be the same. Today as the last bell rang, each student came running to the snack area with a report card in hand. All had passed the 4th grade and were promoted to 5th. Their "4th gradeness" will soon fade into the memory of playground swings and monkey bars; soon they will take on new identities in their journey through life. Eventually, forgotten will be the incessant need for tattletelling and front/back cuts in line. Lost in the past will be the interest in telling scary stories and calling on spiritual bodies amongst avocado trees. Civilized as their manners emerge, hurt, and the intention to hurt, will be better covered with formality. While their raw honesty and sharp, unrefined words can cut like a sword, so can their compassion and love for life flood through gates of that elementary school.


Today, June 18th, marks the beginning of the next chapter.

love the roommate

I have a friend visiting Portland right now, and I think she's going to have a fantastic time.

Good times in the land of whitey McWhitersons with the awesome roommate, Slai!

Will I miss my kids?

The hallway outside my room resembles the aftermath of hurricane Katrina as my students' papers have literally covered wall to wall. I have 23 students, and throughout the course of the year, each student used roughly 1 ream of paper for their work. That's 23 reams of paper scattered about right now being sorted.

Sometimes I wonder if I will really miss my kids. Kids are really annoying. They smell funny, throw food, and tattletale on each other like no other. They rarely express gratitude, and complain about everything under the sun. They think the world revolves about them, and they are some of the germ-iest creatures alive. Everyday when I get home, I wash my hands at least 3 times; most days, 4. And even then, I STILL don't feel their cooties completely off me.

In regards to my kids in particular, here are some unprofessional quantitative and qualitative observations I've reached after being with them this year:

50% should be taken in for some serious therapy sessions (i.e anger management, getting a grip on reality, sexual confusion, depression, socialization)
80% should be pulled out of the after school program and placed into intensive 1-1 tutoring
30% should receive a beating
10% should buy deodorant
100% should be given hand sanitizer

My kids:
1. Love to fart in class. They absolutely love it. You would think that in wanting to be the center of attention, they would strive for higher goals and say, get a gold star for working hard. But nope, farting seems to suffice.
2. Love Chucky. They also love bloody Mary (who supposedly lives in the girl's restroom), zombies, blood, guns, and watching stuff blow up. But most of all, they love talk, draw, and write about Chucky. And yes, my kids turn 10 in 2009.
3. Love to play backpack wars. Why wearing your backpack in front of you and knocking everyone else out is not yet an extreme sport, I have not a clue.
4. Love "going to the bathroom" and "getting a drink of water." Two free chances to escape momentarily outside into freedom; away from homework, away from centers, away from Ms. Teresa's glaring eyes.
5. Love Sponge Bob. As this show only requires the attention span of 15 seconds to be fully engaged, it's no wonder why my kids love it.
6. Love Little Caesar pizza parties. We may have turned into pizza snobs. I know I have with my vegetarian fresh ingredient jazz playing co-op Cheeseboard collective pizza in Berkeley. But compared to the government funded after school snacks these kids usually get, Little Caesar's pepperoni pizza with coagulated cheese is KING.
7. Love making "banana splits." Not ice cream. A banana split is when two friends sit on two playground swings next to each other. They then turn to face each other, and each places both their legs near the other person's crotch, thus making a formation resembling a banana split. They then will call on two other (non swinging) friends to come and push them.
8. Love pelting balls at each other. If it's inside, it's called Silent Speedball. If it's outside, it's called Crossfire. Both (more so the outside one), involve the need to hurl balls at one another. I think it helps some with the anger management, serious.
9. Love to steal erasers.
10. Love catching bugs. Bees, rolie polies, butterflies, and lady bugs are poor victims of my kids' incessant need to collect insects and store them inside their pencil cases.
11. Love rain. Torrents of rain would send a sane person running for cover, but it sends my kids racing outside straight to the deepest puddles.

A pause from forgiveness

Quintessential K, the crazy bitch.

The backdrop: Today, one of my mischievous sexually curious children decided to use the school computer to look at a sex ed website when she should have been doing math drills. Then, she decided to frame an innocent classmate by telling me that he was the one who looked at the sex ed websites.

Obviously this little girl is not tech savvy at all, as a quick check in the Internet's history tab can immediately show which computer it was (and as I suspected, hers).

But, this little girl and her posse are apparently pretty good at working adults.

My 4:30pm began with K marching over to me and my framed innocent boy. This boy, who unfortunately does have a recent internet violation on his record (cussing another boy out), had to listen to K say,

"I've been given the information that you have been misusing the internet again."

Boy, with the most confused expression, goes, "huh? No I was just playing a math game."

"Are you telling me the TRUTH?! WHAT did we just talk about? WHAT did we JUST talk about. Are you even SUPPOSED to use school computers after what you did? NO!!"

"b-b-u-t-"

This poor boy is like stuttering for words, and I begin explaining that he's innocent because there is proof inside the Internet History tab and also multiple witnesses who say it was the girl. This boy just made an ideal scapegoat because of his less than stellar history with us teachers. And actually, he's been trying pretty hard to be better. The liar was not the boy, but the girl or her friends. They thought that by telling me and K, their alibi would be solidified.

So in order to get to the bottom of this issue and target the little culprit(s), I asked K, "Who was it that told you it was this boy?"

K, who by the way, is my self professed professional supervisor, replies coldly, "No, I'm not going to tell you who it was. Go deal with this yourself and tell me how it goes."

And then she turns around, walks away, and by 5:00pm she's playing Twister on the ground.