summer in the Ville

I'm thinking about running this half marathon: Georgetown to Idaho Springs, supposedly one of the nicest in the U.S. What do you think? Any advice?
http://www.gtishalf.org/Photos.html

This interesting article by Slate describes how Guatanamo can create terrorists within its own walls, even as it tries to contain terrorism. It also addresses the nuances within Islam and nationalism.

I just finished a book, a comic book/history book hybrid. It's called Persopolis. It describes all the many ways people in Iran practice Islam. Before the religious extremists, there were plenty of people who called themselves Muslims but practiced minimally. Like many Christians in the U.S. who rarely go to church. These Muslims were infuriated with the extremists took over and forced them to wear head scarves and stop shaving.

But too often we think of the "Muslim world," the term Obama has been using in his speeches in the Middle East. Muslim is not a world. There are Muslims in countries all over the world, just as their are Christians, Jews, Buddhists, etc.

Read this excerpt from the article: When the Extreme Becomes the Norm

"Yet if we think it probable or possible that a man would only mutate into such a monster after undergoing the Guantanamo experience, then I can suggest one reason why that might be. Nothing prepared me for the way in which the authorities at the camp have allowed the most extreme religious cultists among the inmates to be the organizers of the prisoners' daily routine. Suppose that you were a secular or unfanatical person caught in the net by mistake; you would still find yourself being compelled to pray five times a day (the guards are not permitted to interrupt), to have a Quran in your cell, and to eat food prepared to halal (or Sharia) standards. I suppose you could ask to abstain, but, in such a case, I wouldn't much fancy your chances. The officers in charge were so pleased by this ability to show off their extreme broad-mindedness in respect of Islam that they looked almost hurt when I asked how they justified the use of taxpayers' money to create an institution dedicated to the fervent practice of the most extreme version of just one religion. To the huge list of reasons to close down Guantanamo, add this: It's a state-sponsored madrasah."

The prison guards are doing exactly what many of us are doing: assuming that all Muslims practice their faith in the same way, specifically in an extreme way. The danger is that this is happening in a controlled environment and the people being held here have no choice but to adhere.

I cannot wait until Guatanamo is shut down.

Even more, I cannot wait until I learn how to stop misjudging and miscategorizing people.

It was going to be the best barbecue ever. A chance to celebrate the end of our first year in the program. Just as we were leaving the house, Michael asked me, "Do you think they're still having it?" Yesterday his law school friends had cancelled a similar barbecue because it was cloudy. "We're not wusses like you law school people," I teased. He agreed grudgingly. It was cloudy, had rained for five minutes a bit ago, but looked like it was clearing up again.
We arrived at the park and found a gathering of friends with barbecue fixings ready to be grilled. People started putting up volleyball nets and firing up the grills they'd brought with them. We played frisbee.
Then it started to hail.
"Are you kidding me?" Michael held the frisbee over his head to protect him. We all huddled under a tree. All my Nebraska tornado training told me this was not the smartest place to be, but where else could we go? We didn't want to give up on our barbecue! People had driven to come. We'd brought food and games. We wanted to spend time together.
The hail got bigger.
"How do you think your car is doing?" Michael asked. I shuddered. Not the car I'd just bought a month ago!
The hail turned to rain and the clouds looked ominous. No green tint yet, but no end in sight to the dark tendrils of storm cloud lying low over us.
We split.
About 10 minutes into our drive back home, it stopped raining and the sun came out.
Grrr.
I've been in denial for a while, but I think that Denver weather might just be more unpredictable than Platte River Nebraska weather.
Click here to see more about the crazy weather today.

Some of my students ask me, what do you think about global warming, Ms.?
It's happening and it's kinda scary, I say. Do you believe in it? I know what they're getting at.
No, Ms.
Well, look at this, estudiates!

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/8046540.stm

I just found this article about youtube and supreme court justices-to be on Slate. The video of the various legal minds paints them in a poor light, but the following article explains further. It's so good to see a bit more of what these people might be like on the most powerful bench in the nation.
For all its faults, like removing us from deep relationships, providing too much anonymity, and removing us from the tangible world around us...technology can provide a good deal of transparency, too.
In this situation, I appreciate it.

SayNo-Babies

In the last two weeks, two people have asked me if I have kids.
My initial reaction: "Heck no!"
I'm too young. I'm not in a committed relationship. I'm too busy. Thinking about having babies makes me sick. Ew.
Both people kind of leaned back, trying to dodge my negativity.
Later I felt bad.
Both people have kids of their own. We were talking about their kids. It's only natural they ask the other adult in the conversation with them about their own kids: me. Except in this situation, I am a kid posing as an adult. Don't get me wrong. I feel like I have a good amount of experience with babies and kids. With 50+ cousins, I've changed a diaper or two, dropped one baby without any visible side effects (he's 12 and he still seems ok), read picture books, pushed tricycles, etc. But in terms of life experience, compared to the adults around me, I feel like a kid.
I am 23 years old and a new high school teacher. I am constantly mistaken for my students, despite my efforts with a grown up short hair cut and Ann Taylor grown up pants. Many of my friends here in Denver are 4+ years older than me, and though we're in similar situations: set careers and serious relationships, I often feel like a baby. They've travelled, worked for the Peace Corp, written for magazines, etc. I went straight from undergraduate to my chosen career. No adventurous side tracks yet. I hope they're in the future, though.
So when people ask me if I have kids, all the images of the things I'd like to do, and all the ways that babies would get in the way, flash through my brain at such a dizzying speed that I retch a little.
But I need to tone down my reaction.
At 23 years, my mom already had two babies. The people I'm talking to might've had their kids at a young age. And that's cool for some people. But not for me. I'd like to stop feeling like a baby before I have my own.

When I was in high school, often I would come home sad because kids were mean to me. (I was painfully shy and dreadfully awkward.) Inevitably, my mom would say:
“They’re insecure. Ignore them.”
I would look at her incredulously. The popular kids who ignored my existence? The loud kids who yelled mean things at me and my friends in the hallway? The big, tough boys who laughed at the fact I didn’t understand their immature joke? They were insecure?
Not too many years later, I find myself in similar situations at times. As a young novice high school teacher, some of my students ignore me when I talk to them, some argue loudly with me in front of the class, and some laugh at me when I accidentally play into their jokes. And they are insecure. Freshmen, especially, are prone to posturing in the all-consuming effort to be cool and accepted.
As the teacher, my mother’s advice still holds true, but only partially.
They are insecure. But I can’t ignore them.
For example, on Wednesday, one of my students, I’ll call him Pedro, walked into class ten minutes late with a sly grin on his face. Now, every day we start class with silent reading. The routine quiets the students before class begins. This morning 27 students read diligently; one of my favorite things to see is students hooked into books. Into this idyllic scene walked Pedro, 6’2”, at least 200lbs, always a gray hooded sweatshirt, and more often than not, a scowl etched onto his features.
He had been gone Monday and Tuesday and I was frustrated at his apparent lack of respect for my class. On top of that, instead of sitting at his regular seat, he sat next to another boy with whom he regularly goofed off instead of participating in class.
I walked up to his desk and brusquely told him, “You need to move. Get out your book and read.”
He argued back loudly. “No. I don’t wanna.”
Blatant insubordination makes my blood boil. Part of the reason I was teased in high school was because I was an obedient student. I struggle to understand why students would be so rude. I scowled back at Pedro and told him if he refused to move I would write him up, which meant an immediate meeting with the dean. Expletives exited his mouth, none too softly, and he grudgingly scooted over to his regular seat. But he refused to read.
I ignored him and began class. I taught for a while, tried to redirect Pedro, gave up, taught for a while, scolded Pedro, conferred with other students, gave up on Pedro, and generally got more and more frustrated as class wore on.
The day limped on and after the last bell, I slumped into the office, defeated and questioning my efficacy as a teacher What had I done? What could I do differently? My mother’s words came back to me.
Yes, Pedro is insecure. Inside he’s a teddy bear, just trying to be cool even while he’s failing most of his classes. A few weeks earlier Pedro had come into our classroom after school. “Miss, I have a B in this class?” Gentle excitement saturated his voice. “This is the only class I have a B in. Thank-you, Miss.” This tough teenager was like putty, and all because of a B.
Yes, I ignored him. But now, as the teacher with power built into my position, and awareness of the greater socio-cultural picture, ignoring a student in this situation is not always the best option. Pedro expects to fight with teachers. They see him as an affront to their authority and classroom. Maybe he can’t help the fact that he’s late everyday and always wears the same grouchy sweatshirt. He probably feels like the world is falling in on him. This is not the time for me to add to his burden with more scolding.
The next day Pedro came into class late again. This habit was old, but I tried to see it as a new day. Instead of greeting him with harsh orders, I asked him how he was doing. “Good. Hey, Miss, can I get that homework I’m missing?” He was all smiles again.
Now I know there are many factors that lead students to behave in certain ways, and my actions can only have so much effect. But too often I forget the inherent power dynamic at play and abuse my power as teacher. Ignoring students and treating them harshly rarely encourage students’ participation. Instead, I need to take the time to remind myself that it is not a battle and there are no winners if a student and I fight. Instead, I try to put myself in their shoes.
My new and improved motto: “They’re insecure. Show them you care.”
The effects can be amazing.

Shank heart

My students told me on Thursday that if I didn’t come back next year they would shank me. I blushed, so flattered was I. Then I redirected the conversation back to the task at hand: writing dialogue.
My graduate classmates and I have been spending a great deal of time thinking about the book Choice Words by Peter Johnston. This little book has had a large impact on our thinking amongst the Boettcher Teaching Fellows. We’ve talked about the effect our language has on students’ identity and power. Choice Words includes lists of key phrases to use in the classroom. But I’ve never been good at memorizing things. That’s why I don’t teach science or math. However, I am great at synthesizing information and coming up with a phrase that encapsulates it all. And Choice Words is really just about truly believing in your students. Yes, the patterns and vocabulary that we use to convey this belief do matter, but in this classroom situation, I did not even stop to think whether I should’ve addressed the comment with some choice words. And here’s why.
It all started when they asked, yet again, “Where’s the real teacher?” This was about the millionth time I’d heard this question, so I thought, maybe if I’m just straight with them they’ll stop asking. So I explained, I’m in this program and this is the time where I’m taking over and I’m stretching my little teacher wings. (I flapped my arms to demonstrate.) Next year I’ll be in a classroom all by myself, so this is the time to get prepared for that. Students immediately blasted me with questions.
“So Miss, you’ll be a real teacher next year?”
“Yes, I’ll have my own classroom,” I explained, hesitant to call myself a “real” teacher. The good teachers I know are still figuring out what that is.
“Where will you teach?”
“You better come back here.”
“I have to go wherever there’s jobs, and there’s not a lot of jobs for English teachers.” This is true and I’m still learning about all the contexts in which I might work next year.
“Miss, if you don’t come back here, I’ll shank you.”
Now this student and I have a good relationship. He is failing many classes and right now he is probably failing mine, too, come to think of it. But he doesn’t sass back at me with that curled lip like he does in other classes. The other day he and some other students said something mean about the class and I acted hurt so that he repented, “Oh Miss, you know we love you.” He and I can have this back and forth within the classroom because of our relationship.
At the beginning of the year, after he’d blown up in my class a few times, I took the time to ask him about his anger problem, and he took the time to tell me that sometimes he just needed space. So I give him what space I can while still expecting him to participate, and he responds well for the most part.
Have I consciously been using choice words with this student? Have I been saying “I’m disappointed because I know you can do better.”? No, I don’t know that I have. But really, it’s more about enacting faith and relationships than memorizing key phrases. There are times when students get angry, when they refuse to write, and when I get angry, too. At these times, I ignore my niggling doubts about teaching and learning and just show students that I honestly believe in them.
My language may not always be “choice,” but I think the students are beginning to understand my intentions anyway. And they’re buying in. An adult believes in them, so they’re willing to show that adult what they can do. It shows in their renewed effort in their schoolwork and renewed interest in each other as a class.
So in that moment, I didn’t think about the violence implied in the comment. I didn’t think about the fact that the class is largely poor, of color, and below grade level, with a heavy sprinkling of language learners and special needs. It’s a statistical perfect storm for any teacher, new or experienced. This didn’t even cross my mind. I flushed with delight and thought, by golly, they want me to come back.
And so do I.

Make any interesting New Year’s Resolutions? I made mine purposely manageable, and so far I’m doing pretty well.

I’m exercising six days a week.
One of my greatest fears is becoming a typically pudgy teacher. The hours are long. When you get home you just want to rest. Gym memberships are expensive. But I refuse to give in, and Denver is a good influence because everyone is so fit. When I exercise I have more energy and feel more positive; it makes me a better teacher. I never want to start working out, but once I do, I feel great. I’ve been using the weight room at the high school where I work and running outside. It’s been 50+ degrees all week and I’ve been taking advantage.  Yesterday I ran four miles, which is a lot for me. What’s the weather like there?

2. I’m singing at church.
St. Barnabas has a 5:30pm service every Sunday. It’s smaller, and people sit in a circle facing one another. There is a piano, guitar, oboe, drums, singers, and lots of fun little bells and shakers. The people are so kind and welcoming and it feels great to be singing again. It helps me worship and I’m grateful for the experience. I think Michael wants to do music with us, too, but he’s nervous.

3. Michael and I are volunteering at the Catholic worker every Thursday night.
This small homeless shelter houses families and singles for as long as they need as they are looking for work to get back on their feet. We start cooking at 5pm and try to have supper on the table by 6pm. Then we fight over who gets to ring the cow bell to invite everyone to the table. After supper, there is mass. It’s a nice mid-week rejuvenation. I know I’m getting far more out of the time there than the people we’re going to serve.
Last week, the live-in mechanic Joe talked to us during supper. He’s 6’6” and deaf enough he can’t hear a thing I say. He regaled us with stories of how much food he can eat.
“I used to finish four large pizzas in one sitting when I was about your age. The army put me on a diet to help me gain weight, 5,000 calories a day, and I lost 15 pounds in three weeks. It took six weeks to gain it back!”
Michael would shout at him, and he had Joe went back and forth. When I wanted to join the exchange of tall tales, I would yell across the table to Joe. He would wait, but go on with what he was saying, obviously unable to hear my words. Mary, sitting behind him, would repeat/yell what I had said. He would just keep on going. She’d point to Joe, smile, and shake her head.
Joe: “I go to Sam’s Club to get two full chickens for six dollars. A lot more food than you’d get at some fast food place for that kind of money.”
Gwen: “What’s your favorite food, Joe?”
Joe: “Only six dollars for two full chickens, it’s a great deal.”
Gwen: “What do you eat with the chickens, Joe?”
Joe: “When I was in the army I was a cook, and the officers would gain weight just watching me eat.”
Gwen: “How long were you in the army?”
Joe: “I could eat so much back then. I’ve slowed down a bit now. I can only eat two pizzas in one sitting now.”
Gwen: “You got an ox named Babe out back, Joe?”
We repeated this pathetic pattern so many times, I was almost crying from laughter by the time I finally gave up. I don’t think he heard a thing I said that night. But he kept us rolling with his tales of how much he ate as a youngster. 7,000 calories a day, he says. I doubt it...

4. I’m trying to eat less sweets.
It’s not going so well. My roommates are a bad influence. “It’s ok, Gwen, you can have some ice cream. We’ll have some with you.” And I have no willpower. Maybe I’ll give up sweets altogether for Lent in repentance.

5. Reading the Bible everyday.
I’m still trying to decide which book to read. I want to read one off the beaten path, probably one from the Old Testament. If anyone has any suggestions, let me know.

6. Have a life.
Michael and I were just lamenting that we spend all our time studying and then have nothing to talk about when we do go out together. The other night we went to Tastes, a wine bar and bistro with local art on the walls and a menu with pages of wines to try. The wine was delicious, and the bread and cheese were fancy. I felt like a real city woman. But we had nothing to talk about.
So the next night we went to some friends’ and watched a movie, much more low key. Two of the girls there want to be teachers, so I told them about my program. I’m spreading the good news of Boettcher. It was nice to talk to people who also care about teaching, but who aren’t necessarily in my program or school. One girl had just been laid off two weeks ago because the company she worked for laid off 50% of corporate workers. It’s easy for me to forget the effect the economy is having on people, because I’m a student. It’s good to be reminded of how people are affected.
Today we went to the Marade (march/parade) with roommate Theresa. Supposedly it was the largest MLK Jr. Day celebration in the U.S. There were invigorating speakers and we got to walk down Colfax Street with everyone else, smiling at everyone we saw, black, white, brown, yellow, red. We brought Katie’s dog Casper along and she begged for attention from everyone we saw. We made friends with lots of little kids.

How are you New Year’s Resolutions holding up?

DSC00659

Cousin G came to visit. What an ornery cuss. I hope he reads this. It was wonderful to have family come visit. If anyone else wants to come visit, just tell me when. I will rearrange my schedule and welcome you with open arms and fresh linens!

School is good. I might be getting the hang of this teacher thing. I say this after feeling like a failure two days ago. But today went well.

I think being a good teacher is a lot like being a good believer. You have to truly believe i n your students and teaching and public education to be effective. if you don’t, kids pick up on it and they don’t buy in. And just like faith, sometimes I have doubts. But I have to be persistent. Today I was super persistent and positive and it paid off. Lots of little things seemed to work out just right.

On the bus ride home I saw two of my students. I showed one of them something I was reading. It was a two page short story and in the end this general gets out a bag of ears. My student probably thought I was crazy. Then I stopped to talk to the other student right before my stop. I wasn’t paying attention, but thankfully someone was waiting at my stop to be picked up, so I got up quick and made it. No one has ever gotten picked up at my stop before, so I’m glad that person was there today.

Gratititude. I’m floatin in it right now.