Daina Burke Technology Immersion Scale (DBTImS)

So, if you can't already tell by the sudden increase in Facebook postings at all hours, I'm finally into my summer vacation. This means until next week, we are officially on the Daina Burke Technology Immersion Scale (DBTImS). Please familiarize yourself with the color coding system, as your very souls may depend on understanding the depths to which I'll go:

CODE GREEN: At Code Green, most of you can expect my usual snarky commentary, a sprinkling of Upworthy posts and the occasional article from The Root or Huffington Post, usually around 10 or 11 PM. Text messages from me will start off short, but quickly become more deep and introspective, while the games I have through Facebook will be played more often, usually on the laptop as I watch Netflix tv. I will make a list of about 3-5 things to accomplish before class starts next week.

CODE BLUE: At this level, you'll see a steady stream of links found while LOOKING at The Root or Huff Post, usually BuzzFeed or anything else that has a random number from 10-20 and the words "Things You Didn't Know About/Should Never/Always/Might/etc..." in the title. My game play will turn to the iPad, usually around 2 am, because I'm trying to get SOME sleep, but unsuccessfully. If I'm not still watching Netflix shows, I'm catching up on podcasts from Snap Judgment and reminding myself to record that Karbi story for them (which is on that list of about 6-8 things I need to accomplish before class starts next week). My text messages and FB statuses will turn into blog posts that I'll place on Ramblings From the Big Comfy Couch or Blinded By the Sprite.

CODE MAUVE: Do not let the color fool you, as this is one of the most deceptively easy levels to slip into, but hardest to escape (also, I don't really like mauve). The blog posts will now lead to a torrential hail of Bitstrips or homemade memes most of you left behind months ago. The Facebook posts will be mostly cartoons from the 80's, music from the 70's, and random stuff from Funny Or Die or College Humor. If I see your text, I won't remember to answer it until a day later, and you may not get the cohesive answers you're looking for. Game play is either Skylanders or The Sims on the laptop while playing iPad games, which will stop me from pretending I'm going to get any sleep. The podcast of choice will be Ask A Ninja (number 15 on my list of 9-12 things I need to accomplish before next week)

CODE PINK & PURPLE KRUSH VELVET, KRUSH GROOVE, ORANGE CRUSH, ORANGE SLICE, GOLFING SLICE, SLICE ON THE GREEN, GREEN CLOVERS, BLUE DIAMONDS, DIAMOND GIRL, LOVER GIRL, MEAT LOVERS, MEETUPS, UPCHUCKS, CHUCK TAYLORS, TAYLOR DAYNES, DANE COOKS, COOKING CAJUN, FORTUNE COOKIES, CHINESE FOOD, CATS IN THE CRADLE, & CATASTROPHIC EVENTS (sorry, no corresponding color follows this level of crazy). This is the highest rating on the color scale and indicates dangerous levels of tech immersion. At any given moment, I will be watching YouTube videos using Twonky on my Roku, slapping imps on Dungeon Keeper on my iPad, downloading music from videos to mp3s while uploading my old mixed music tapes digitally, adding more things to my iPhone's reminder list of 20-36 things to do before class starts next week...all while wikihopping from Krush Groove to List of Accidents and Disasters by Death Toll. There is NO blogging at this level, as I will have saturated myself with so much depressing, bizzarre, and random infomation that any attempt to repost on my part will tarnish silver and explode baby animals. It would also throw off the entire balance of good will in the world as more and more people I'm connected to return over and over to relink and share my downward spiral, (after all, who really knows how to look away from a train wreck once you know it's gonna happen)? There are only two warning signs for this level; 1) status posts/links from me have stopped entirely (because there is no reason to share a link to Wikipedia's List of Accidents and Disasters by Death Toll), or 2) (and most horrifying) all status posts have become links to videos that have any combination of the words "cat", "funny". "talking" or "crazy" OR have some sort of disaster set to the Benny Hill music.

At this point, both I and Kevin Burke will require your help to escape the house. Do NOT attempt to rescue us on your own, because as mild as the situation looks from the outside, if you engage me in conversation or even LOOK at the screen, you'll be trapped watching a My Little Ponies video overdubbed with Reggie Watts' "F**k S**t Stack", because, like everything else I've gotten into at this level, it's an addictive train wreck of cusswords, electronic beats, furlike body hair, and intelligent, yet random thoughts that you CANNOT LOOK AWAY FROM. Instead, follow these instructions to the LETTER:

1.Make a direct call to Niagara Mohawk and have them shut down the power grid for ALL of Western New York and the Finger Lakes.

2. Wait outside of my house with any entree from Avantis Grill. This will bring Kevin out. He'll be fine as long as you let him HAVE the food and get him to sleep with his CPAP on.

3. Allow at least another 8-10 hours for all batteries to die on all my electronic devices. At that point, place all your personal electronic devices out of reach, then wait outside for me to come out looking for lights on in the neighborhood to plug into.

4. Once I've stepped over the threshold of my front door, use a taser to take me down. I will be prepared for this, so DO NOT ALLOW ME to put any devices in between the taser tips and my body. This could possibly recharge whatever devices I may have come out with, and then you'll be trapped.

5. Once I'm immobilized, gently pry all devices from my person and speak in low, steady tones about paperback novels, spiral notebooks, and D & D (paper and pencil gaming). Once the tears of remembrance start, the healing can begin.

Current status: BLUE, with a hint of MAUVE (after all, this blog posts STARTED as a Facebook status!) Take precautionary measures, such as blocking me on Facebook or coming over and making me "do stuff". If you make me leave the phone behind, a simple trip to Double Dips for ice cream is enough to break the cycle of continual internet access. Save the Meme Maker (from herself), save the WORLD!

You have been warned!

P.S.--Okay, I'm posting the link to the Reggie Watts/My Little Pony video, but it's got a TON of cusswords and super inappropriate stuff....again, fair warning!

Finally making a stand!

So I finally posted this video today of New York State Senator Diane Savino making the argument for gay marriage. After I responded to a friend's comment on the video, I realized I'd really been avoiding sharing my views on this subject, the same way I've done with just about every controversial issue the US ever faces (usually political or religious). As a teacher, I've been wary of offending with my views or somehow dictating policy. I don't like changing my picture or reposting someone else's thoughts for an hour on a whim. But still, I'm a human being with feelings and a sense of justice that I really can't ignore, not once I've decided something is right or wrong. I take a long time to get there and I waver back and forth when I hear the impassioned arguments from both sides, but when I've decided, it's a commitment to myself that I can't pretend about. I want, no NEED to be able to look at myself in the mirror each day and be proud knowing I've done what's right.

So, I copied my reply (which had turned into a full length note, anyway!) and pasted it below. I made a few grammatical changes to help in make sense out of context, and also added more thoughts to it (since my mind was whirring with all the connections this made for me). Read it and think about it, but remember...you and I don't have to agree on ANYTHING but our friendship to be REAL friends. I'm not insulting anyone in this piece, or taking away anyone's right to civil disagreement and intellectual discourse. I'm simply stating where I am and how I feel.

First of all, it was an amazing speech, even though I had to agree with my friend Brad Newton that she makes some broad generalizations about the quality of opposite and same sex marriages to make her point. In a way, saying how great the relationships of same sex couples she knows is a little like the "some of my best friends are black" defense! :-) It's a little embarrassing to hear, but in the grand scheme of changing hearts and minds, you overlook such awkward words because the heart is in the right place.
But despite the overall tone, the one part that I really felt made the grade was her story about the guy that stuck his head in her window. That's when she came up with the most legitimate and unbiased argument she could make: religious groups define marriage and the quality of relationships, and they can certainly continue to do so. Governments, however, are legally only allowed to hand the license to whatever two human beings show up at the courthouse with the right amount of cash.

Additionally (and this is just my thoughts, not part of her speech), I know many people feel that a law being in place or strong public opinion should make things have real legal standing and precedence. I've got two reasons that can't always be the case:

1. Church and state are separate by DESIGN in the Constitution, so making a law based on a religious standard really should never HAVE to come up (like, no one's ever tried to have the law define baptism or the eucharist). I know most cornerstones of law originate from religious teachings (generally because they DO foster brotherhood and a strong moral code), but the way we interpret things for our society is what tends to turn tolerance to prejudice and good to evil. On that note...

2. Some laws are passed that are just morally WRONG, even when they're fully supported by the people (which is something the Constitution also provides for). Remember, there was a time in which it was illegal for Kevin and I to marry, too, and LOTS of people agreed with that. Heck, even those who supported the freedom of African Americans frequently stopped short of wanting them in their families! It was the courts who originally condoned this country's "right" to discriminate in that way, but also the courts who ultimately put us back on the right path.

People of any color, religious creed, racial makeup, mental state, and even personal bias can marry whomever they want without question. Only one group is left to make America live up to to being the "land of the free", but it means being the "home of the brave", too.

I guess that's why I finally posted this. It's not enough to believe that people should all be treated fairly...you have the social responsibility to SPEAK UP when they aren't so that things change, even when you might face public outcry. For example, I do understand the frustration when people say to me "Well, I've never said anything bad about black people!", but I also have to counter with "Well, have you said anything at ALL?" After all, if some idiot was teasing a guy in a wheelchair or mugging someone in the parking lot, EVERYONE I know would offer some sort of admonishment or aid. Do we all do the same when someone makes ANY racist comment about ANY group, or do we just try to ignore the guy, thinking we'll never change him?

Well, today, it's the LGBT community getting talked about like dogs or getting mugged in the street by laws that keep them from doing the same things we all do. No matter which side you may be on, your VOICE and your REASON is what's important now. No intelligent discourse happens when reasonable, moderate people stay...well, reasonable and moderate! Tell the world WHY you are for or against and explain yourself in a rational, clear-minded way so that we can all think about what we've heard, then make a REAL judgment for ourselves. Otherwise, it's just high school all over again, where we are swept up in letting someone be treated badly because we're too afraid of joining them in that uncomfortable situation of being frowned upon for who we are and what we believe. After years of being grownups, are the bullies STILL going to win the war against our personal self worth and conviction because they think "louder is righter" (and that "righter" is a real word)?

Again, I have to LIKE the person I see in the mirror, and not just on the surface. How about you?

Story Snippets

Back in 2005, I was digging through my stuff and finding snippets of stories that I wrote alone or collaborated with someone on and posting the favorite bits of those. I believe my exact words back then were "Sometimes I read stuff I wrote and it fits far more smoothly than I had hoped, making it like brand new material to me...then again, that might just be AGE making me forget what I said." Anyway, I've decided to do that again, 'cause I like reeling in the years. Should anyone be interested, I usually have the whole story on file and can send it. Other times, you're ALREADY reading the whole story 'cause I'm great at getting stuff done without getting sidetra....hey, a rerun of Scrubs!

Okay, a Daina & (Big) Josh story snippet (the middle is actually written by him, but I liked the whole section, so I kept it all):


"On a good day, you can see through the space-time continuum...on a bad day, you tear right through the sum'bitch." D. Burke

Teen angst on a string is something that one doesn't ever really think they'll have to deal with again until it rears its Tommy Hilfigered, baggy jeaned, "in" crowded, head-up-its-own-assed head in the middle of a group of normal high schoolers, causing them to erupt into screaming fits, storming-out fits, general hysterics and haughtily whispered snatches of conversation that usually include phrases like, "that BITCH", "if she thinks", "well, I heard from so-and-so that", "we better go talk to her in the bathroom" and my all time favorite, "she bet'not put her hand in MY face, 'cause I WILL beat her ass down!"
All this comes to a heightened point of necessary catharsis, the nexus for all emotional distress and teenage torment, a sort of end all, be all of emotional disturbance and mind boggling acts of insanity...
...the high school drama director.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE TRYING TO DO TO MEEEEEEEE! HAVE YOU NO IDEA WHATSOEVER OF HOW MUCH TIME IS LEFT BEFORE THIS FRICKIN' PLAY GOES UP? WHAT THE FLIP IS THAT???"
All action stopped onstage as every middle and high school head turned to the back row of the auditorium to peer blankly past the spotlights to the empty back row, where I lay on the floor writhing in complete agony.
"But Mrs. Burke..." came the plaintive cry.
"SHUT IT!!!" I screeched to the ceiling. "I...DON'T...WANNA...HEAR IT!!! IF I'VE SAID IT ONCE, I’VE SAID IT A THOUSAND AND ONE TIMES...NO BUTTS TO THE AUDIENCE!!! How'm I doing?" The last part was directed to my assistant director and better half, Nancy, who sat a row ahead of me. As the school librarian and the official adult onsite, she took it upon herself to be the good cop to my bad cop during rehearsal, which just made me out to be even more the sweetheart when I was in a good mood. She was, effectively, the neutral zone to my cosmic chaos.
Presently, she looked back at the cast with a time honored look of withering adult blandness. "I hope you're happy, people," she said in her classic monotone. "She's dead now. You killed her."
"Oh, you're in a fury tonight, Nance," I said, rising up on an elbow sarcastically.
"I save the melodramatics for you, Daina," she replied, a hint of a smirk on her face. "They are, by the way, wetting their pants thinking you're about to rerun Act One from the top again."
"Being an adult rules!" I grinned, giving her the thumbs up from the floor. "Watch this." I raised my voice again so the kids on stage could hear. "Give me ONE GOOD REASON why I shouldn't make us stay until 9 tonight."
The multitude of pleading voices as I pretended to wearily drag myself back into my seat was better than applause.
An hour later, it was NOT enough to make me anymore than tired to the bone when I dragged into the house. Kevin gave me a kiss and a hug when I came in, then babied the heck out of me all the way to the sofa.
"How did it go tonight?" he asked.
"I was evil," I smiled.
"That good, huh?" he grinned back.
"Yeah...I threatened to make them rehearse until midnight, then I...urg." I could see the question on Kevin's face, but the pain just behind my left eye made it impossible to answer him and, after a moment, impossible to see him. It occurred to me briefly that God was probably punishing me for torturing innocent students, so I was probably better off not complaining. I closed my eyes for a second to rub them, then opened them again and was only slightly surprised to find myself in my subconscious bedroom.
I was slightly more surprised to find a large gaping hole in the wall that opened up to a foreboding, swirling darkness that looked remarkably like the tornado scene in "The Wizard of Oz".
The rest of my horror actually came from finding myself lying on the bed next to the one known affectionately as "the boy", but more commonly known as Josh.
In an amazingly synchronized display, we both screamed bloody murder, leapt away from each other to opposite walls, pointed at one another and with all the creative thought we could muster shouted, "What the HELL are YOU doing here?!?!"


Josh's part:

The scene looked like something out of a detective movie. Josephine paced back and forth with the stern look of incredibly deep thought on her face. Hsoj sat steepling his fingers wearing his best poker face. Joe seemed to be moving 90 miles an hour in his seat, the frantic look that ever wrong-doing-child gets on their face.
"Okay, tell me one more time what happened. Tell me everything from the top and don't leave out a single detail. I have to know exactly what happened."
"Well…" Hsoj began.
"And this time I want to hear it from Joe. I have the feeling you aren't being completely honest, even though you know that if we don't find Josh his body will eventually die in the real world."
Joe apparently lost in his own self made world of shear terror, screamed when Hsoj nudged him and told him to tell Josephine everything. Meanwhile...

IRVING, TEXAS: JOSH'S LOCATION

Every one basically ignored the guy asleep in class. Until, of course, class was over. The students filed out, in that hurried manner you find in any institute of learning. Five minutes after the bell rang the teacher noticed the sleeping student was still there. Perturbed that he had the audacity to sleep through the lecture and now wouldn't get up so that he himself could leave, the professor stormed over to the unconscious student's desk. First there was the simple nudge and, "get up!" Then, when the student simply fell limp and lifeless to the floor, the panic set in.
The professor knew that Geology wasn't all that exciting. He knew that he himself hated it, and that his lectures were boring and drawn out, but he never imagined in a million years that he would ACTUALLY bore someone to death!
Panicked, he checked for a pulse. It was faint, but still there. He grabbed his cell phone and began to dial 911, then stopped. If this got out, that with the most boring lecture in the world he had actually killed a student, he would never work in education again. The last thing he wanted was to actually become a geologist, so he pulled the car to the door nearest the class room and loaded up the body. As he pulled out of the parking lot, he began to think of where the largest natural deposit of lime was.
Finally, geology had a real world application...!


MEANWHILE BACK IN THE HEAD:

"Alright, after hearing everything, I can now categorically say...I have no idea what to do." Josephine flopped in a chair exhausted.
"I have an idea," Hsoj said smoothly, "Why don't I take temporary control of the body. And you and the boy can search the link systematically. I'll tell you the safes..." He was cut short by the sudden death grip on his best friend, Mr. Happy. The tears in his eyes let Josephine know she was using just the right amount of pressure.
"Finish that sentence, and plan on peeing sitting down for awhile. Why don't you go hunting, seeing how all of this is your fault. Everyone else around here might think you're a big man and dangerous to boot. But I'll kill you if I have to, understand? You might be the most powerful Dark Elv to ever have existed, and you might have made kings fall to there knees before you, but I'm a woman on the edge with your balls in my hand and my period started yesterday...so, in short, do not fuck with me right now, OK!!!"
"Well, if I leave, who's going to control the body? You need a man so that people won't be suspicious of you and try and lock you away for being a freak," Hsoj squeaked.
"Hsoj, if you aren't off looking for Josh in ten seconds I'm going to rip them off wrap 'em up and give them to you for Christmas." Hsoj cringed and headed for the door, looked in to the swirling darkness the could kill you if not used properly and suddenly had the answer, he turned to tell Josephine but she just looked at him sternly and said," And don't forget to take the boy with you."

My part (again):

"Jinx, you owe me a Coke!" Josh grinned.
I grinned back, pretending momentarily to be with him in this little 4th grade bit of humor. "Yeah, yeah, a Coke, 'cause...SHUT UP!" He looked at me, a bit put out by the sudden change in my attitude, then looked back at the hole in the wall.
"Right...the wall," he nodded. "You're probably wondering about that."
"Ever so slightly," I muttered.
"Well, funny you should ask, 'cause I'm not exactly sure either. I'd LIKE to say it's the link, but then I'd also like to say I enjoy geology class," he said, looking askance as the hole again. "I kinda fell through it."
"Kinda?" I looked back at the size of the hole again, questioning his judgement a bit.
"I got pushed," he added helpfully.
"Ye-esss."
"It, uh...wasn't fun."
I rubbed my eyes...this was frequently how conversations with the boy tended to go...nowhere. "So I'm told. You realize, now, that two REAL humans are now occupying the same body. If I wake up, we have MAJOR problems." I blinked, remembering the head pain that had knocked me out. "Assuming I can ever wake up again. K, you have to go now." I began shoving him toward the hole as he dug his heels in.
"Hey, wait a minute, that's a large gaping hole to nowhere right now...pushing me in is NOT gonna help matters!" he spluttered.
I thought about this a moment. If he disappeared into the nothingness I was looking at, we'd both have a major problem. He'd cease to exist properly and I have this thing with guilt eating at me when I cause the death of others.
I sighed. "Alright, I'll take you home...you just can't stay here."
"What, you don't have TIME for a visit?" Josh joked.
"Not the deadly kind!" I grinned back. "C'mon, let's go."
Ah, yes, famous last words.
"Let's go".
It implies leaving, a sense of travel that really has no definite direction, something that I REALLY needed to remember the next time I stepped into nothingness, with or without a friend in tow...

…fwhooff…

It's the noise you always hear in the movies when an atom bomb hits, that dull air-rushed thud that's even more baffling because the word "bomb" is attached to it. It's almost as if the very fact that it's the most deadly thing you can imagine makes it unnecessary to have all the noise you normally associate with other deadly stuff like dynamite, shotgun blasts, and cannon fire. After all, you're LOOKING at a mushroom cloud by that point, which is the visual symbol of total annihilation, so the "death wrapped in a Kleenex" kind of noise is meant to underscore that, I suppose. The bigger the cloud of death, the more likely you are to get that softer, quieter sound.
Which probably explains why that was the sound I "heard" upon entering the void. In retrospect, I probably heard NOTHING, just like I couldn't actually feel Josh grab my wrist at the last moment and cling to it to make sure he didn't lose me before the point became moot. I didn't "see" darkness, although I recall straining my eyes to the point of actual insanity, desperate to see even a shadow. I didn't "hear" my scream disappear into this blanket of death; I just knew I tried to scream out with all I could. And I sure couldn't have sensed the suffocating darkness pouring into my open mouth and all throughout my body before I felt the Kleenex of death wrap my brain into that softness that I didn't have the presence of mind to be afraid of for more than a second on some universal watch…

Help! Go to wgrz.com and click on Andy's Weather Machine under "weather". Enter my school (Niagara County, Washington Hunt) as many times as you can tonight!

It All Started With Fame...

...and went downhill from there.

Wanna feel old? Picture your favorite actor/actress from when you were 10 or so. Now, if your fave has gone from gracing the cover of Tiger Beat, to People, to Lifetime, to do commercials for vitamins, pain relievers or life insurance, congrats...you're over 40!

This all started because I saw this trailer at the drive in the other night before Harry Potter. There was some dancer and the words "It all starts with a dream..." This song was playing at the beginning and I knew the words and started singing along, but couldn't place WHY I knew the words:

Sometimes I wonder,
where I've been.
Who I am,
do I fit in.

I may not win,
but I can be strong
Out here
On my own

Then suddenly, before I can say "Oh, that's On My Own" and be mad that they cut a part from the lyrics, that haunting refrain from another WAY more popular song came in:

"Remember, remember, remember..."

And I DID.

"HOLY !@#, they're redoing FAME!" I screamed to Kevin. Man, I just about SOILED myself. Suddenly, I was mentally trasported back in time to middle school. My middle school was an independant private school called Crossroads in downtown St. Louis that was run almost mom and pop style by an amazing collection of hippies, professors, educators, outdoorsman, businessmen and EVERYONE'S parents. It's the only school where I had Sledding for gym, a field trip to watch the Cardinals World Series parade, had an econ class through school store and a host of other really cool experiences, most of which were just phenomenal in terms of real world learning. My dad even came in and did a ton of awesome computer programming stuff back when it was still something you wrote lines of text for.

Anyway, the creativity aspect is what made it a prime jumping off place for VAP, St. Louis's Visual and Performing Arts magnet school. Kids in my school were always hanging around writing their own plays and music and all this other neat artistic stuff...and then FAME came out and EVERYONE was a dancer or a singer. Heck, even I wanted to be Irene Cara and I wasn't allowed to see the MOVIE back then (rated R, so I just heard about it and watched the subsequent tv show). 4 different chicks did "On My Own" for the talent show!

So, after seeing that and singing the song for karaoke at tournament this year (which, if you've never seen improv comedians doing karaoke, I HIGHLY recommend...we had the ENTIRE dancing in the street scene going on the dance floor in front of me!), I came home and looked up the movie, only to find out that it came out in 1980.

1980, people!

Seriously, Fame is coming up on its THIRTIETH anniversary! I'll be 40 two days after the remake comes out and the movie will be 30 a few months later!

That's when I started looking at where they are now and what folks are doing and got that bolt of reality. Gene Anthony Ray (Leroy) is dead, as is Mr. Shorofsky (who was already older, but MAN!). That kinda stuff makes you look at all the other famous folks of the time, like Farrah & Michael and Lindsay Wagner...the Bionic Woman is doing SLEEP NUMBER beds! Robin Williams was on Letterman doing an entire monologue on HEART SURGERY.

And meanwhile, the Jonas Brothers and Miley Cyrus still live...

Where is the JUSTICE, people? Are these children DRAINING the lives from our faves and using it for media sustenance? Who among us is NEXT???

At any rate, now that the rose colored glasses are off, the movie itself looks...okay? I mean, I'm only going from the way the dancers are dancing and the remake of the theme song, but it seems kinda...slutty?

Again, I'm probably just getting old, 'cause when I go back and look at the tv show, whenever they break into spontaneous dancing (which is ALWAYS), there's a ton of pelvic thrusting and whatnot that I now see as a bit suggestive (watch about 2 minutes into this and see if you think Debbie Allen woulda kept her teaching license TODAY!). But the music seemed to be more heart pounding and exciting.

The new version...there's a lot of girls SLIDING into splits and arching bodies (wow, I sound like some old censor lady or something!). And the new beat doesn't make me want to jump up and spontaneously dance, unless there's a pole involved. Plus, look at this poster! Are we selling sex and Pepsi or something???

Age. I'm not scared of getting old, but I can remember when all music was fun and I couldn't imagine sleeping through Saturday morning cartoons. Suddenly, I'm not even TOUCHING the TV on Saturdays because of all this computer animated and video game crap (says the woman who actually watched THIS power hour on Saturdays) and listening to more and more JACK FM.

D.

Back from Canada & on to Wisconsin!

Well, we've just returned from our trip with the Quinns to Canada, where we boxed Parry Sound. This was a really nice little area that I'd never gotten to see much of. The Highlander's grandpa ran a campsite up in Pointe au Baril and before he passed, he sold most of it (which became Sturgeon Bay Provincial Park) but kept one cottage for the family. We had a good time, but didn't get to spend much of it together. So, Kevin and I will be heading back to spend our 10th wedding anniversary back up at Pointe au Baril. Apparently, there's a lobster dinner and dance going on at the community center up there AND Harry Potter is coming out, so dinner and a movie!

But, for now, I'm back on the road again in less than 48 hours. I'm gonna be playing for Buffalo in the ComedySportz World Championship games this Friday (wheee!). We play against Portland on Friday, and with any luck, we'll make it to the finals on Saturday. Can't wait to see how we do!

Anyway, I'm not sure if my computer will withstand the pressure of life in Milwaukee for a week, but if anyone reading this wants to see how ComedySportz Buffalo and I are doing, just follow CSzBuffalo on Twitter. I'm kinda the voice of CSz Buffalo for Twitter, but I only speak for the team, not myself. I'm also going to try and post on Facebook and Blogger from my phone...we'll see how well that goes!

If you're in Milwaukee, though, I'd LOVE to have you come to the games! The more bias in my favor, the better!

D.

Improvathon 2009 May 30-31

Just a reminder that the Improvathon starts today at the Riviera Theater in North Tonawanda! I'm playing 4-6pm and 10-midnight, then 2-4pm tomorrow and maybe the All Star show at 8pm. If you're reading this and you don't come...you better live in another state!!!

Random Clown Post

This was something I typed into the notes on my phone after one of those great goofy conversations with Kevin:

I think the only thing that would sound funnier than beatin' someone down with an accordion would be beatin' down one of those clowns with the squeaky shoes and the bike horn nose. Visually, beating the bejeesus outta a mascot is pretty appealing, but who can deny the joy you'd get in the discordant cacaphony of cheesy instruments, which should end with the quintessential El Kabong sound.

In fact, if I knew I had clown beatings to look forward to, I would actually carry around a supply of cheap ukeleles in the trunk of my car JUST for such an occasion. These would be next to my bag of throwing shoes for presidential visits and my multipurpose sack of vegetables.

Karbi

Not sure why I don't already have this posted, but since people still ask about it, here it is! It was originally written after a holiday party back in 2003.

Many people don't know this, but I am actually the African American ambassador to the nation. One of many, really, but I don't often seem to be in the same place at the same time with the other ambassadors. In fact, in most cases and many places here in upstate New York, I am the "only one" or "the other one" in many social gatherings. It is my job to be as diplomatic as possible in relations with those outside the African American race so that all future cross culture interactions go as smoothly as possible. It's a pretty stressful position, but one I have slowly learned to realize the importance (and sometimes depressing nature) of.

Just this past holiday, my husband and I were visiting friends for our yearly New Year's party. This party is truly the highlight of our year. It always includes a great many people, old and young, most of whom I hold in high regard as friends of my husband's and now, mine. I'm usually the only person of color in attendance, but this never bothers me, no matter where we are. As I mentioned, I'm frequently the "only one" or "the other one". Since these friends live more than an hour from us, we always make arrangements to stay the night just to enjoy their company without feeling the need to make it home before sleep or drunk drivers overtake us.

We were, in fact, just hitting the 3 o'clock hour and a possible bedtime when someone suggested we play a game called Balderdash. It's a great word game if you've never played; you have to try to convince people you know the meaning of a real, but very unusual word by writing a definition that sounds convincing…or at least, sounds funny enough to make the game fun. Usually, people become one of three types in this game: the funny definition writer, the simple definition writers or the complex definition writers. After a few minutes of game play, we already had established ourselves. We'd had quite a few of the goofy answers already, like "fungo--the green goo on the back of a turtle" and "bort--excess gas". For the record, however, I'm an amazing liar as well as a teacher, so I tend toward the creation of definitions too complex to be a lie, like "karbi--the sooty residue atop slate shingles after years of usage".

On that same round, however, another member of our party also came up with a definition. "Karbi--what a black guy says…dis kar bi mine."

Most of you hearing this did one of two things just now…snicker or laugh outright. I, on the other hand, was mortified and very trapped. Remember for a moment that I was the only black person at this table full of 10 other adults. Even my husband is white. The entire table swiveled to look at me while my husband gripped my hand with an intensity that was as powerful as my own at that moment. What was I supposed to say? What COULD I say?

A diplomatic quandary, though you may not recognize it. For I only have one true option in this situation and it is NOT the one I want. To do what I want means becoming indignant, demanding to know why this man, whom I only knew as a husband of a relative of a friend, would say something so insulting at this table with me right in plain view. How dare he say such things in my face, insinuating that a black man, such as my college-educated father or any of his friends, would talk this way? Jokes about people of any ethnic background are inevitably about their stupidity, which is why most people don't tell such jokes now. Sure, there are black actors, comedians, and regular folk who still use this humor to impress others, but maybe they haven't yet realized the dignity our people have lost while they get paid, or just don't care. Money can make a person that way, especially large amounts of it. I have even watched younger black children make these same jokes so that their friends will think they are funny, too, not realizing that they are being laughed at, not with, and I feel sick inside thinking of all this.

But in the eyes of my friends, I could see what was hoped for, even expected. Surely I would find this amusing! Why, only last week, Def Comedy Jam had a comedian using ebonics rather proudly and he'd been hilarious. And don't shows like "Martin" tout the same sort of ebonic pride? Surely I could be pleased that I would be part of such a broad tradition of humor! Besides, it was "just a joke"…why take it so seriously and ruin the entire party with a bunch of politically correct rhetoric? We can all laugh at ourselves here.

Many of you might be saying, "Nonsense! If I found something offensive, I'd speak right up and hang what others think of me!" But this is the catch .22 of being the diplomat. What others think of me is what others think of others like me they meet. Everything I say and do now reflects on everyone who looks like me later. This has become abundantly clear when children come up to me and want to know who my favorite rapper is, or why black people are so mean all the time, or when grown men and women still ask things like "Why are black people so loud?" or "Do you know Shanika? I used to work with her back in Dallas, and she's black, too…" Or even worse yet, when my own mother-in-law tells me that she cannot accept me because she was attacked by a mugger who was black.

And honestly, if this were the case, could anyone blame any black person for being irate with every white person THEY met? After all, one bad experience rules a great many white lives…why not mine? Why can't I take this one experience and hate or prejudge or, at the very least, have a real fear of any white person I meet? But what I usually hear in response to this is "Well, you just have to understand…"

Why? Why is it my job to be understanding and your job to speak out about what disturbs you without the irritation or disdain of others? Yet, just like the president, I cannot simply SAY how much I dislike something without global repercussions. I CERTAINLY can't ACT on my feelings, because my anger here proves that black people are a violent, or at the very least, an overly sensitive lot. But my silence or laughter only reinforces that it's okay to use this kind of humor and then nothing is learned at all. Never mind the fact that had this joke been about someone with a mental handicap, we would ALL have been indignant.

And so I sat for an uncomfortable second, with all this whirling in my head, my husband gripping my hand, because as a white person himself, he, too, wants to speak out and damn this man's actions…but I did what I had to at that moment.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I demanded. "Do you not see me sitting in the room here?"

But as I said it, I laughed.

And as I did, and the rest of our friends began to chuckle with me, a little piece of my dignity slipped away. My right to speak for myself was stolen by the adoring eyes of my friends who thought I was a great sport for laughing, even as I threw a notebook at the man's head and blinked back angry tears that no one but my husband saw.

On the way home (a trip which we decided to make 30 minutes later, despite our original plan to stay), both my husband and I ranted and raved about the "nerve of this guy" and how his leaving before us was probably to get home to restoke the ol' Christmas cross fire. But by the time our furor had died down, we were left feeling cheated. "I hate being reminded of my place," I told my husband wearily as I started to cry. He felt awful, of course, and tried to get me to understand that my place was not to be the brunt of someone's jokes. "No," I told him, "my place is to understand that he doesn't know any better and that he might NEVER know any better and just accept that. I am the ambassador. Welcome to my world."

As I sobbed, I realized in the back of my mind how hard this was for him. First, as a white male, he has never been denied his right to speak. He has even gone so far as to demand that shoplifters put things back when he sees them taking an item, so justice is his banner. As my husband, he has also never been denied his right to protect me. But once again, he was able to see how even his anger or irritation on my behalf would only have exacerbated the situation…and he felt just as helpless as I did, but certainly not as often as I have. In a way, that makes it harder, I suppose.

But he didn't leave it at that. The next day, my husband called our friends and told them why we left, explaining our feelings and our discomfort. I was against this at first, especially when I realized that NO one else at the table had thought twice about this. But not only were our friends understanding, they wanted to talk to me and thank me for telling them this, giving them food for thought and a new understanding. It helped to wipe away a little of the natural wariness that had arisen from this incident, so much so that I realized how many people really WANT to know when they've said or done something offensive and don't. Usually, the person they've offended leaves without saying a word or they, too are an ambassador and laugh off the incident, swallowing yet another distasteful public scene into their own discomfort. I was comforted to know that this is not always a thankless job. It's unfair and even painful, but not always thankless. SOMEone learned something from this…and perhaps in hearing it, you might, too.

I am actually one of the many African American ambassadors to the nation. I have diverted many a cross cultural mishap in my time, but please…don't thank me.

Understand me.

Speak for me when I cannot speak or am not heard.

And for God sake, don't just let me laugh…hand me a tissue.

Chasing Down Grief

Well, it finally happened. I sat watching the inauguration today and suddenly realized that my little brother, Eli, will not be watching this and giving some kind of running commentary. Tears that wouldn't come at a funeral not meant for me and in the days since finally flowed unbidden.

For those of you who don't know, Elijah Eatman, a close friend of Kevin's and mine, was found dead in his apartment by his mother after going home sick earlier in the week. From the moment I moved up here and began to hang out with all of Kevin's friends, I put them into my extended family. I've never been this far away from my regular family, so I needed some folks to turn to. They were all into sci-fi, fantasy and anime, so we all became fast friends that helped each other embrace our inner geek. The Quinns, along with my nieces and all my students and, became adopted children, taking the place of those we couldn't have. Maureen, Kathy, and then Brandy became the sisters I always wanted. Chris and Darrin became like those cousins you rarely see, but love hanging with when you get them back into your life. Tom (another friend of ours and Eli's that passed two years ago from complications stemming from his kidneys) became my eldest brother, the gruff but lovable one who lead the family with his foot in your ass and his heart devoted to your soul. Darryl became my dreamy eyed middle brother, the one who always wanted to see everyone happy and would never harm a soul. Dean became my twin, the one born a few minutes before me and capable of more bluster and pride in himself, but (if possible) twice as much bluster and pride on my behalf. Drew became a younger middle brother, picking up Eli's goofy slack and getting us all into trouble as he joined our group of gamers.

And Eli was the baby, the one I had to protect from jibes and push in the right direction. Tom's departure set his feet truly on the path to independence, but he himself pulled on the bootstraps and got himself where he wanted to be. In not hearing from him, I was actually comforted, because I knew it meant he was finally okay. Even when he WAS over here, he'd lost the need to impress or defend himself because he was fully comfortable with who he was, despite what anyone else thought.

It took a while to grieve. I felt robbed at the funeral, cheated of my chance to release in such strange settings. Eli was a Muslim, so the women sat in the back at his funeral and weren't allowed at the gravesite at ALL. The men couldn't even touch the women, so African American males shook hands with my husband, but apologized to me and passed on. Kevin said it was odd to be treated like a prince by a group of black men while his black wife was shunned like a member of the KKK. After that, Kevin needed time to adjust and grieve himself, so, like all people who care for each other, my thoughts about the whole event disappeared as I comforted him in his time of need. Later, when he was coming to terms, it just seemed silly to cry over something I felt I'd already gotten past.

I really believed that I was okay up until now.

I'm sorry he's gone. I can't believe I won't get to tell those guys to "leave that boy alone, he's not doing ANYTHING to you" anymore, as if he NEEDED a defender. I won't get to burst into hysterical laughter at his rapid fire chipmunk laugh, correct his spelling, or remind him that, no matter what his family says, finding a woman to be with is NOT a necessity if he's happy. I won't get to see him eventually find that spooky anime loving horror movie going chick with the smoky voice and a dominatrix outfit in her back closet, behind her Hot Topic wedding dress and her "Foamy" t-shirt (yeah, I guess I've thought this through a bit!).

Mostly, I'm just plain old sorry for me. I wish I had more stories to share than this. Kevin knew Eli from college in the Anime Club and our other friends grew up together. I moved so much as a child that I never spent more than 3 years in any school before college (and even then, I went to 3 different colleges before finishing up at UNT). I wish, as I always do, that I'd had a history with all of my friends beyond what I've got now. God knows I'm grateful for what I do have with all of you today, but man, I wish we'd all been neighborhood pals and everything and could talk for hours about all the fun we used to have. I don't know if that would make me miss Eli less, but it'd sure feel more tangible than what I've got right now.

For my sake, I would appreciate it if all my friends would wait at least a decade before deciding to check out on me. Two in three years is a little much.

D.

Teachers Are Glorified Babysitters!

So, I was thinking about the whole "teachers are just babysitters" thing again today and laughing to myself, especially when I thought of all the folks at home with their kids know who WISH they had that teacher working right now!

Frankly, my hubby has it right. If teaching is such easy money just to babysit, why don't more people DO it??? Just go out and get the 4 year degree (in which you do student teaching and learn how one tries to impart knowledge while "babysitting"), then sub for years on end trying to get INTO a district (while DEALING with the same kids who don't respect you because you're not their teacher) and then...teach! Actually try to MAKE children learn when they really want to do anything else, even just sit and VEG out rather than learn. And THEN deal with the parents who think you're just teaching because you're that mean teacher THEY had back in "n"th grade that hated them. Oh, and don't forget the general public who'll want to know why Johnny can't read later on down the road because all you did was "babysit".

As Noah once said to the Lord..."RIGHT!"

Let's break this down for a minute. Babysitters come in and go home. As a teacher, just TRY to make your work day just fit into the actual DAY. Babysitters do NOT have to take the kid home with them or grade them on how they did. And if you're thinking "Well, if teachers gave less homework, they wouldn't HAVE so much work at home to do" think again. When I go home, I'm not just grading. I'm doing lesson plans and checking to see where the kids are so I can adjust my lesson plans and finding new ways to present old material so the kids will actually ENJOY learning ('cause if they DON'T, they won't make it far). Every teacher I know carries work home with them, even on holidays and does it during free time. And we're NOT hourly, we're SALARIED, so it's EXPECTED we're doing this and that our salaries will cover the time lost with our loved ones.

Oh, and the holidays? Those times you think we have it easy? Those are the times when we're told to go to superintendent's meetings, conferences, and other places that AREN'T because teachers NEVER stop learning. There's always new ways to do things, new rules and regs to follow, new constrictions that prevent us from doing what it is we were hired to do in the simplest and most direct manner.

And have you ever dealt with a school bureaucracy? People at the top are kinda like the financial wing of hospitals. They sometimes forget that school really ISN'T a business. It's not about making kids and their parents HAPPY (although it's a nice side effect). It's about giving them what they NEED to survive. It's about making them into life long learners, people who understand that education is what makes us better than animals. Despite the separation of church and state, we still show children how to treat their fellow man by showing them the mistakes of the past, explaining how to take care of the future and letting them interact with other humans on a regular basis where they're CONSTANTLY tested on right and wrong.

As more and more parents try to be friends and not parents, teachers have become more like parents than anything. But we're GOOD parents. While we teach, we try to shelter and protect your child from the world around them. We know they may go home and deal with terrible outside forces and scary adult issues, but while they are with us, they are SAFE. Even in extreme circumstances, when other adults (even parents or family members) turn cold and frightening, or children become confused & angry and turn on each other, we assure your child that NO ONE can get to them while we are there. Every time we have any kind of drill, I remind my students of all the proper procedures, as well as tell them that "no matter WHAT, I will personally STOP anyone that tries to hurt you!"

And homework? Okay, admittedly some people go overboard, but isn't it possible that with all the ways the public demands that children be ready to join the workplace that it's NECESSARY? School is where you LEARN things and homework is to PRACTICE what you learned, just like anything else. And if you expect the same of your kids in a SPORT (going to practice regularly before you actually play the game), why be so shocked that your kids would do the same in the academic arena? We've read about parents who've threatened and literally KILLED to make sure their child got on cheerleading squads or hockey teams. Where's the same passion for something they'll need for the REST of their lives ('cause, I can PROMISE you, VERY few move on to professional careers in SPORTS!)?

And, really, folks, even if you think education did you NO good at all, can you GET the high paying jobs without going to school anymore? You literally HAVE to have a degree from a secondary school of SOME sort to stand out in the ever shrinking workplace.

Do you REALLY want to call the person who taught you to READ nothing more than a babysitter, then pay them pennies to do all that you expect of them?

Okay, since I've rambled on like a Seinfeld rerun, let me end with this bit of humor. Can't take credit for it, but if this is how the world feels, I have no choice but to acquiesce for the global good! :-)

Since school teachers are really just glorified babysitters, let's just pay teachers the going rate for babysitting.

Let's pay them $3 an hour per kid, and they work 8-4, with a half-hour lunch. After all, why should we pay them for 'planning' or to eat?

So that's 7.5 working hours a day, and an elementary teacher works with about 20 kids a day.

So $3 X 7.5 hours a day X 20 kids = $450.00.

And I'm sure not paying them for weekends (more 'planning') and I'm sure not paying them for summers off for 'training' or advanced 'education,' so really, we are only going to pay them for 180 days a year.

So $450.00 X 180 = $81,000.

And just to be nice, if you have a master's degree, I'll give you $4.00 an hour.

That means we are going to pay teachers/babysitters $80,000 to $108,000 a year.

And not a penny more!

You Know You're Getting Old When...

This list started while watching the first item on the list and just kept expanding:

1. You watch Lindsey Wagner selling Sleep Number beds and are just as interested in what she has to say as when she was the Bionic Woman.

2. You're ALLOWED to stay up all night, but don't want to.

3. You DON'T have to take a nap after lunch, but you DO want to.

4. The sight of snow falling makes you think about scraping windows and shoveling, not building forts and making snowmen.

5. Your parents' house or grandmother's house looks smaller than you remember it.

6. You look at people you would have described as "hot" when you were 18 and wonder do their parents know what their wearing in public.

7. The idea of getting to drive to the pizza place, take the money inside and PAY for the pizza makes you feel tired, not grown up.

8. Running surprises you as much as it does your walking shoes.

9. You actually HAVE walking shoes.

10. You are more likely to be a spectator than a player in a pickup game.

11. You watch the love scenes in movies and actually understand them.

12. You can't get candy if you dress up on Halloween.

13. You're the one saying "When I was your age" and boring your children/grandchildren.

14. You actually have children/grandchildren.

15. You REALLY know what sex is (not just what your friends say).

16. Your worries about money involve more than just candy and video games.

17. You're more like Hook than Peter...and you're not sure how or when that happened.

18. You're mad that you can't find anything but anime & computer gen stuff on Saturday mornings.

19. When you watch tv, you spend half the time saying "Who's that?" and the other half asking "What ever happened to (insert 70's/80's tv star here)?"

20. You stopped believing that Saturday Night Live was funny about 15 years ago.

Well, of course YOU did...redux!

Okay...I can now publically admit it.

I voted for Barack Obama!

Man, what a relief to finally get to SAY that! For those of you wondering why I kept it a secret, there's a ton of reasons. First of all, I'm a teacher, so I never tell the kids who I plan to vote for. They're always trying to gauge their own thoughts with my own and I want them to decide for themselves.

The biggest, though, was the subject of one of my earlier blogs and where the title for this one came from. I didn't want people throwing away my political opinion just because I was black. With some of the folks I know, just saying that I was voting for him would have made them decide to not listen to anything I had to say about ANYthing. They would have been disgusted, thinking I only voted for him because of his race and that "we all stick together".

This is patently NOT true. There are about as many divides in the black community as there are in the white community, so looking like someone does not automatically mean I'll be casting a vote for them. I was ready to vote for either of them back in the primaries, but in the end, I really just paid attention to what the candidates had to say and felt like Obama was the most likely candidate for CHANGE.

Watching the returns was amazing. I was completely overjoyed until I listened to McCain's concession speech.

And then, right in the middle, I started to cry.

All this time and I had truly forgotten that he was the FIRST (frankly, I forgot he was black at ALL!). He did such an amazing job of making this NOT about race that people of ALL races truly forgot. Personally, I really only cared about CHANGE, not making history or anything else. Even before I walked into the polling booth, Kevin nudged my elbow and whispered "Go make history." And it still didn't hit me.

But once I remembered, really understood, I wished that my (and his) grandmother had lived to see the day. My own parents (who never voted in their lives until 2000) even said they really had never expected to see this in their lifetime. Dad said he'd just never thought that far ahead. I liken it to the way one doesn't think of marrying flowers. It's not that they can't be pretty and sweet, but the idea of marriage to a plant just seems so farfetched as to never occur to you.

My favorite saying from all this was on a t-shirt:

Rosa sat so Martin could walk
Martin walked so Barack could run
Barack is running so our children can FLY.

Speaking of children, despite my attempts to NOT discuss my personal political views and stick to the basic facts of the American election process, this whole thing held my class in its thrall. I was so proud! Last week was NY Kids Voting, but I had NO info on the candidates. I was very disappointed because NO one should vote without finding out the FACTS about the people involved. So, without my telling them to, many of them went and did research on their own. When I mentioned that the US president is a world leader, one of my boys asked "How can we be so popular if our economy is so bad?" They kept asking great questions, so instead of sticking to the basics, we went deep into everything that's been hitting the US (war, economy, etc.). We even talked about what a patriot really is (ANYone who defends their country against outside influences). On Tuesday, we kept an electoral college map that refreshed every 10 minutes up on the tv with kid votes from all over the US. They were excited today when they checked the real map and saw how well the kids mirrored their parents in voting (which led to the discussion of why kids AREN'T allowed to vote).

Anyway, it's been one amazing race...now I'm just praying for the man's safety and hoping people aren't looking at me now and thinking I'm gloating. I'm not, I promise. I'm just glad to see that something NEW is happening. The world can FINALLY look at us and think we're good people again, not selfish brats that like to bully our way into whatever financially benefits us.

So, I'm all full of national pride again...and not in that "holier-than-thou-'cause-I'm-a-bigger-patriot-than-you" kind of way, either. Just the "glad-we're-back-to-normal-with-a-HUGE-sigh-of-relief" kinda way!

D.

On the heels of THAT...

With all the wonderful racially insensitive things I've bumped into this summer, you'd think I never crossed the Mason-Dixon line back in 2001...!

Without going into too many specifics, I had another issue in which someone relatively close to me didn't understand my feelings about something that was blatantly stereotypical of African Americans. I was worked up enough about this to ask friends what to do and while some wanted me to just tell her off, the others were of one mind:

"Why bother? This person is obviously not worth your time, so ignore them. You can't change their views!"

But to that, I reply with the words of James Baldwin: "We are responsible for the world in which we find ourselves, if only because we are the only sentient force that can change it."

And therein lies the rub. Once it comes to something racial, it goes beyond my personal wants and into African American ambassadorship. Frankly, I'd LOVE for this person to leave me alone for the rest of our lives (and I felt that way BEFORE all this), but, if I go and hurt their feelings, they'll think "Black people are too sensitive about these things...they don't understand MY feelings." And NOW I've made it difficult for some other black person down the road. It's a chain effect that my generation and those before me pay a GREAT deal of attention to. We watched great men like Martin Luther King and learned that if no one tried to change the attitudes of the world, we ALL suffered. We needed to show gratitude for those who fought for our rights before us by continuing to change people's views wherever we went and set positive examples for those to come. So, none of us are comfortable just letting ignorance or stubbornness in race relations go. I have friends who became doctors and lawyers and other upstanding community members. For my part, I became a teacher and teach kids as they grow to treat everyone with respect, no matter what family members might say. It's a lifelong balancing act, saying what you think, but finding the right words and ways to say it so that you make a difference.

Honestly, there's just so much more to being darker skinned than anyone ever imagines. You become the channel through which other races and cultures learn...and it's up to you what they take from their experience. Most of you are blessed with the ability to be responsible for ONLY your actions. If you say something rude or make your point to someone, they can ONLY say "Well, (insert your name here) sure pissed me off" or "(insert your name here) makes a good point". For me, it becomes "Well, black people ARE just as violent as they say" or "Well, there ARE some good ones after all". People will genuinely base their experiences on their one or two friends/enemies of a certain culture or race. If I'm lucky, I meet someone whose mind I change so that they think of me as JUST me (or just think positively about the whole race so they can spread the word to friends). Since I don't know whether it's a lucky day or not, I play diplomat rather than take the chance.

Anyway, on the up side of all this is school. The first week of school is ALWAYS the promise of fresh young minds that will learn and pass information along to the next person they meet. It's like my own lifelong grassroots effort! :-) So, for now, I'm looking to the future and shelving the past...after all, it makes it easier to travel down the road of life when you look where you're going!

D.

Spanish Team on Offense AND Defense...!

So I'm reading stuff about the photo the Spanish team did about the Chinese (the one where they do the slanted eyes thing) and I'm finding more and more people that don't understand the offense, here. So, let's put this whole "ethnic joke" thing into perspective, shall we?

Try putting yourselves in the Chinese players shoes for a moment. Picture how you've felt in school when someone made you feel stupid or look stupid, all the while laughing at you and getting others to join in. Picture the times that you've tried to fit in and felt out of place. Picture ANY time at ALL when all you wanted to do was blend in with others and not have someone point out how much you are NOT like them. This is how intelligent people of other races feel every time someone does another slanty eye joke, another ebonics joke or any other joke that makes their people look foolish.

I think the reason why many people are confused is because they can't fathom how a joke like that affects those people or reflects on those people, regardless of the intent. There seems to be a consensus in America that it's acceptable to make fun of another culture if you:

A) "don't mean anything by it" or say you're just joking (as in the Spanish photo
B) have done it long enough that it's okay to you or would take too much effort on your part to change (Ex--keeping the name Squaw in names of places or keeping offensive Native American images like the Cleveland Indians because so many people have a history with those things)
C) know a person or persons from that culture who will laugh with you or use the same words to make fun of a culture, which gives you license to do so (ex--"Well, my black friend says the "n" word, so I should be able to!" or "I know a ton of Chinese guys and THEY didn't mind!")

All of these are really just excuses to belittle someone else and make them feel like I mentioned above. Think about what you'd do if these guys had pretended to act like a person with mental disabilities or handicaps...we'd ALL be up in arms because it's considered rude. There is NO difference at ALL in making fun of another race or culture.

If you can take anything from this, remember this...just because a LOT of people have done it all their lives or think it's acceptable does NOT MAKE IT SO. After all, lots of folks liked slavery and backed the Holocaust...didn't make them RIGHT. And even if it's a joke to you (or you wouldn't MIND that same joke done on you), it's not always funny to the person who has to show people that they are SO MUCH MORE more than just differently shaped eyes, darker skin or a different accent.

Hope that helps...really! :-)

Kevin's new blog!

Finally, he's computer savvy!

Kevin finally got tired of writing long e-mails and decided to create a blog of his own. He's an amazing write in his own right with insights that crack us all up (when we have time to read them in our inboxes)! So, without further ado: http://whineratthegatesofdawn.blogspot.com/

Enjoy!

D.

Days of Saturdays Mornings Past (Kevin's Interlude)

Currently, I'm in Portland, Oregon for the Comedy Sportz World Tournament, so I've been without electronic sustenance for close to 5 days. While I've been gone (and ever BEFORE I left), my husband Kevin was been writing e-mails worth of blog notice. So until he decides to host his own blog, I've decided to post his ramblings here for everyone's enjoyment:

It's 7:00am on a Saturday morning. Daina won't get back from Portland until this Monday morning, so I figured that I'd visit an old friend.... Saturday Morning Cartoons. Only.... my friend wasn't there. Oh, there was something for kids 5 and under on PBS but that's ok. Long has PBS been the venue for the more junior execs of the Saturday Morning living room. Sesame Street, The Electric Company, The Great Space Coaster, etc. That's fine. I always believed the shortest of the shorties need orientation programs before they can understand the complexity of navigating the vast array of the more advanced viewing fare that they will face on Saturday Mornings. Rather than spend my time warming up with PBS, I decided to go right to the powerhouses.... NBC, CBS, and the venerable ABC. Now you're talkin'! These are the titans of Saturday Mornings! Who could escape their black hole strength pull on the eyes and minds of millions of Saturday Morning viewers across this great nation of ours.... who’d want to?

Ok, let’s just work up the channels then. NBC…Nbc…nbc… ???? Let’s check this remote to see if I’m on the right channel because this is the Today show. Hold on a second. The Today show DOES air on NBC! What the….!? Ok, let’s go to CBS then…. What the hell is Weekend Wake Up!? I’m already awake! I don’t need an hour-long program to tell me that!! Ok, ABC then! Good ol’ ABC! You won’t fail me! Long have you been the mightiest bastion of Saturday Morning Cartoondom! Who could match your unrivaled power when you drew the mighty sword of Warner Brothers? Hah! Animation! I knew you wouldn’t fail me! Let’s see….The Emperor’s New School? Ok, don’t be too hasty to judge, Kevin. After all, you really liked The Emperor’s New Groove. (30 minutes later) Ok, that wasn’t too bad. Kronk was pretty funny.

Quick check back with NBC….Nope, still the Today show. If I remember right, that damn thing is two hours long so there’s no point checking back with NBC until, at least, 9:00am. Hmm, CBS is still showing Weekend Wake Up! Well…yay them. Ok, then….back to ABC! The Replacements? Hmm, this isn’t based on that football movie with that thespian tour de force, Keanu Reeves, is it? Well, let’s take a look at it ‘cause…. (5 viewing minutes later) ….’cause I have to pass this channel on my way to another one. HEY!! What about WUTV!? The home of Astro Boy, Prince Planet, Ultraman, Battle of the Planets (G-Force), and the time honored Star Blazers! Ok, so what do we have here…Archie’s Weird Mysteries? Look, the Archies were, at best, a mediocre cartoon back in the day. And the only mystery with Archie is that he’s had two FINE-ASS women chasing him for what….four or more decades…and never tapped either of them! Supports my theory of Archie’s unrequited homosexual love for Jughead. They should move the whole gang out of Riverdale and drop them in Rivendell ‘cause Gimli would take Betty & Veronica into his bed chamber and knock something loose down there….he’d totally RUIN those chicks!!

Ok, it’s now 8:00am. The Today show is still going strong on NBC. On CBS I have a difficult decision…. Care Bears: Adventures in Care-A-Lot followed by Strawberry Shortcake. I lost the remote so I have a difficult decision on whether I want to keep looking for it or actually get up off of the couch and go over to change the channel! Here’s the real killer! On ABC there’s Good Morning America: Weekend Edition, which goes to 9:00am followed by A.M. Buffalo, then House Smarts, then back-to-back episodes of That’s So Raven, then Hannah Montana, and the torture ends with Suite Life of Zack & Cody. Great! More canned filth from Disney….Nazi douche bags! Which finds us at high noon where ABC launches into the delightful land of paid programming…You’re dead to me ABC!! DEAD!!

I was going to continue on with the rest of the morning up until noon when the kids should be outside playing by then anyways. However, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. NBC is pretty much adult programs until 11:00am where they have Jane and the Dragon. I’ve seen this show before. The story lines and dialogue are actually passable at times, however, there’s something in the CGI’d movement of the characters that makes you want to kick them until they’re all dead! CBS has Cake, Horseland (don’t ask me I don’t know but I don’t need to know), then Sushi Pack, Dino Squad, and Teen Kids News. YES….Yes, they’re every bit as awful as they sound. That leaves WUTV. Unfortunately, the fare on WUTV is little better than 30 minute animated commercial slots to sell the toys and cards that these cartoons are based upon. Remember, when cartoons use to come out first and then the related merchandise would follow….not the other way around? Let me give you an example. Between 8:00am and 9:00am are back-to-back episodes of a cartoon called Viva Piñata. Viva Piñata is a game for the Xbox 360 that eventually spawned (pretty accurate description) this cartoon of the same name. Here’s a brief synopsis:

In a garden on Piñata Island, a multitude of happy, colorful Piñata species live, frolic, dance, and grow. The goal of the piñatas is to fill themselves with candy, so they can be chosen by Piñata Central to entertain at birthday parties or retirement parties and other special celebrations. The piñatas have their own gardens and love to party. Each species is a blend of an animal and a sweet type of food.
It is here in the garden, among the burrowing Profitamole, the bovine Moozipan and the tree-swinging Cinnamonkey that we will find a small band of Piñata friends that have known one another since they were children when they first came to the garden.
Being a piñata means something different for piñatas. Some Piñatas can’t wait to reach their maximum candy level so they can leave the Piñata Factory over and over again, bringing joy to children and partygoers all over the world. Others are not happy about the prospect of being shipped off to a strange place where happy children in festive hats hang them from a tree, bludgeon them until their limbs fall off, and devour their innards. Still others physically train for the parties as if they were off to the Olympic Games — hardening their bodies to create a challenge for the children clamoring to get at their candy.
Why is it that Piñata Island is the only place in the world Piñatas can be found? Even the Piñatas don’t really know—but with so much happening in the garden, what with weird new Piñatas arriving all the time, crazed black-market Piñata poachers trying to muscle in on Piñata Central action, mysteries to solve, violent garden pests known as sours to contend with, and constant opportunities to dance—who has time to worry about it?

Yes, this is for real! Yes, I looked this shit up! No, I’m not feeling all that proud of myself at the moment! I feel the need to get into the shower and scrub my skin until it bleeds!!
Anyways, my point is that, Saturday Mornings are no longer the brief escape from the normal woes that accompany childhood. There’s nothing to look forward to in regards to Saturday Morning Cartoons. Can they still be found on cable? Of course, but that taints it somehow. I dunno why, it just does. Kind of like chasing that inexpressible dream that was out there somewhere but time has passed it by. Cartoons have no substance nowadays. Kids walk away from them with absolutely nothing or some cheesy lesson that their parents should have taught them in the first place. Cartoons are entertainment and an escape and even an enrichment! There are those who would say to me, “Aww, c’mon! Look at what you watched! How are you gonna tell me that, after watching cartoon characters like Bugs Bunny & Daffy Duck, that you came away with anything more than the kids watching Pokemon & Yu-Gi-Oh?” Easy! Bugs Bunny & Daffy Duck were my first exposure to Beethoven, Mozart, Rossini, Wagner, and many other classical composers. Hell, Daffy even showed me that you don’t always win. Sometimes life just plain sucks but you rebound and come back next time.
I guess I just got overly excited at the prospect of spending a quiet Saturday morning watching cartoons for a change. I’m serious….I was REALLY looking forward to this last night as I went to bed, each time I got up in the night to pee, and when my alarm clock this morning was a cardinal perched on the hemlock right outside my bedroom window singing in the gentle morning rain. This all came crashing down on me when I realized that the days of broadcast television’s weekly high point, the Saturday Morning Cartoons, a part of my childhood was gone. Ya know what? That just plain sucks. I guess I’ll just have to stand back up, brush the dust off, and move onto something else I really like.

Kevin

Happy Anniversary, me!

On a completely unrelated note to my previous rant, today is the day I married Kevin. Details I remember:

It was insanely hot all week in Dallas, Texas, but the day of my wedding had a little rain in the morning, cooling things off to a nice 80 something. The sky was that beautiful clear blue and all clouds were gone by the time we got to the church.

Bikers came up and stared into the window of our limo at the reception before we got out. I offered to let them get in when I got out.

My parents invited TONS of their friends because I'm their only daughter and first born child, but most of the people that actually CAME were Kevin's and my friends.

Kevin Pohle, a friend of Kevin's and a groomsman, had his appendix removed a day before the wedding and couldn't be in it with us. Instead, we had Chris McDermott, the guy that Kevin and I met each other through. Kevin still made it, although he couldn't wear a tux. We took a pic of him showing us the bandage where they pulled the appendix out.

All my mom's brothers and sisters except for one made the wedding, and nearly all the cousins came as well. This was the first time in YEARS that we even came CLOSE.

My dad's father, who never made it to the wedding because he was bedridden, described my dress to my grandmother perfectly when she came home. The pictures of me in my wedding dress came MONTHS after he passed away.

I ate breakfast that morning. Kevin did NOT and informed the coordinator at the reception of this when she tried to get him to get up and do the first dance before he had his food.

I gave a happy war whoop as we left the chapel as husband and wife.

My dad made me laugh by telling me that Kevin's friend Joe had pretended to be looking for Kevin before the wedding, saying he'd seen Kevin peeling out of the parking lot earlier...

My bridesmaids sang "Going to the Chapel" to me.

My dad and I chose the same song for our dance together"(If I Could"), but didn't know it until right before. It made me cry...a LOT!

My brother was horrified at the thought of Kevin and I going upstairs for the honeymoon night.

The flower girl (my niece-to-be at the time) florally assaulted her great aunt with a handful of fake rose petals when she got to her pew in the church.

My dad got mad at the limo company for charging us for the full night when we just wanted to pay for the drive from the church to the reception hall. So, when the guy got ready to drive away, my dad said "Oh, no...we have you for the whole NIGHT, sir." Then he came in and announced to the entire room that they would be doing limo tours to Dallas and back all night. There were folks who never got to ride in a limo and never saw downtown Dallas at night that got to see BOTH, thanks to dad's ingenuity.

Anyway, all this only serves to remind me that my relationship with Kevin these past nine years (and even with many of you) is something that's remained a stalwart constant for me. My wedding day still sits in my mind as one of those great moments that I have no idea what I did to deserve, but am MIGHTY glad that happened. While I can look at those around me and see how they've changed, I'm far more amazed at how much things between Kevin and I have stayed the same. Despite having been around me for 9 years, he still seems to see me as his fair maiden (which is only fitting, as I see him as my deserving hero!).

Here's to another 9 years of marital bliss (bliss = all the stuff that comes with a real relationship, like arguments over street directions and laughing during romantic moments, illness, craziness and the other -nesses that happen in the real world)!

My Blue Period

So, I came into school two days ago and the custodian told me they were going to repaint my room and the faculty room.

Now, before you get all excited for me, let me give you some background. From my first year in 1995 up until last year, I had a futon bunkbed in my room. This bed was my reading center, my reward for kids who did homework 6 days in a row and basically, the one thing that I've kept as my own in the many moves I had to make (2 states and about 6 different classrooms). I had even decided if the Highlander and I had a child, the bed would come home for them (silly, I know, since we'dve just gotten new stuff, but still!).

Last year, my principal told me I'd have to get rid of it because it was a fire hazard.

I was DEVASTATED. I begged him to let me keep it, but he said it had to be done, district rules. Honestly, I actually CRIED bitter tears in front of him because the one unifying piece of my educational domain was going to have to go. It also meant yet another piece of the babymaking project was going up in smoke. I ended up giving it to one of my students that had come a long way that year and felt, in some way, like it had practically gone to our "child".

Anyway, I went through a minor grieving period in which I needed to refocus myself into a new project. As a young teacher, I had always wanted to paint my walls black and put glow in the dark stars on them. As age mellowed me, I settled on painting it a deep blue one day. With the bunkbed agony still fresh, I suddenly had a way of reclaiming my domain. I figured it could be a sort of "rebound" bunkbed for me. I asked my principal if it was okay with him and he agreed I could paint it any way I wanted.

So, I chose the color (which is actually the same blue as the school shirt I'm wearing in my picture), bought all the materials and I spent 2 weeks on and off in the summer painting it with some of my kids. The room is EASILY 14 feet tall, so I had to stand on furniture on tiptoe with a roller for the whole upper half to make it work. This was also a second story room in a NY building with NO AC in the summertime, so there were days I thought I might lose it to heatstroke. When we finished, we signed our names in an inconspicuous corner and once again, my room was my own. All year long, people talked about how cool it looked and how it brightened things up, etc. Even my principal came around and admitted it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be when I said a "darker blue".

Oh, and an important sidenote: as I went around the district for different meetings that year, I noticed that other folks had sofas, chairs, pillows and all kinds of other stuff that would be considered a MUCH bigger fire hazard than my metal pipe bunkbed with the one futon mattress and one twin mattress. Even the teacher next door got her wooden swing from downstairs where it was going to be thrown out and brought it back into her room. I was the ONLY person who had to get rid of my "fire hazard". Hmmm...

This bring us back to the moment that our custodian informed me that the principal had told him to repaint the room. The custodian added quietly that "he" (pointing to the office) had NEVER liked the color. Only our custodian knew that this was basically a covert operation, since no one is in the building for the summer. I received no calls or messages...if I hadn't been in the building to pick up some summer school stuff, I would have come back to off white walls.

So, I charged downstairs, ready to rationally demand that my room NOT be changed, not when I had spent my own time and money on the whole thing. I planned to go over his head to the union or the superintendent if need be, since no one else's room was being painted My principal told me the same thing from last year...that the district wanted it redone and there was nothing he could do...

Things get a little fuzzy for me at this point, so let me give you more background while the me of 2 days ago slowly goes to the mental zoo!

For various reasons, my family and I moved quite a bit. I went to 11 different schools in my educational career (4 elementary, 1 middle, 3 high school and 3 colleges) and over the span of my life, have lived in 18 different houses/apartments across 6 different states and done more jobs than I care to count. I've even TAUGHT in 3 different districts over 2 states and done more than one program/grade level in each one. As you can imagine, I have some REAL deep seated issues with permanence and stability...!

So, how can I describe the conversation in the office AFTER my principal confirmed the repainting story? Picture this: tell a 6 year old that they're going to Disneyworld. Promise them this will happen, repeatedly for like a WEEK. Show them every Disney movie ever made in that week. Throw them a Disney theme going away party with all their friends. Pack up the car, get Mickey ears to wear on the ride down and even strap the kid into the backseat and turn the car on. Then tell them you can't take them after all, that you just made it all up. Now make that kid a 38 year old black woman that already has had to give up an item she treasured for the same reason. Oh, and did I also mention that my monthly visitor dropped in just TODAY?

So, back up to two days of PMS ago...!

I remember...LOTS of crying and hysterical breathing. I remember eschewing tissues for the backs of my arms. I remember bringing up very salient and logical debate points such as "but you SAID!!! You TOTALLY SAID I COULD!!!" and "You don't even CARE, you're just being MEAN for no REASON!" and "Why? Why would you DO this to me? What did I DO? Did I not TEACH right?" I definitely remember saying something to the effect of it being HIM that didn't like it, not the district and that he was "sneakin' around". I think I even might have said "It's like you're not my FRIEND no more!!!" I was basically just like the parents from this Burger King commercial, only a lot louder.

The one thing I know for sure was that my principal was in NO way ready for this from me. I'm the tomboy of my building, the easygoing one that could care less about fashion sense, cute stuff or anything related to interior design. I NEVER cry because I hate that place that crying takes me to and I hate that it wins arguments that SHOULD have been won with words.

This caught him (and, frankly, ME) totally by surprise. After all, he was all geared up for an argument, a man-to-man talk. Once the mental revolution began, he was able to get out one coherent sentence, which was "Well, I'm not in the habit of taking things from people." Everything else was cut off by my insane rant through the Halls of Fairness (where I believe I might have flung feces, lit the ancient tomes on fire and written the words "NO GOAL" in bright red lipstick on the statue of Blind Justice).

Anyway, 2 days and a sinus cold later (MAN, did I cry HARD!), my room is NOT being repainted. I've fully worked through my issues (translation: had ice cream and a hug from Kevin) and I believe my principal and I have reached a new level of communication and understanding ( despite the restraining order)!

D.

Don't Go Where I Can't Follow...

So, I'm talking with Kevin and we're having that morbid discussion about what would happen if either one of us died. This becomes a bigger deal for me because I've moved away from my immediate family to live here in Western NY. I've lived here since 2001, and now we have the home of our dreams, but if Kevin was gone, would I be able to stand living here with nothing but memories of him to comfort me?

I'm also not the best at female relationships, so would I have a bunch of girlfriends around to help me through the rough patches? Oh, I know Kevin's family would be there (Maureen & Kathy are like sisters to me),and we've got lots of friends through letterboxing and gaming, but I never really hang out with folks at work or anything and aside from monthly hangout time, we never see any of our friends. Would that be enough to keep me in WNY? It's a strange situation. I think if I went HOME to my family in Texas for comfort, I would probably never come back. If my parents came up here to help me cope for a while, it'd be more of a 50/50 thing.

Morbid thoughts, huh? Still, I'm of the mind that if you TELL yourself you can't handle something, you won't be able to when the time comes. So, I'm not SURE, but I know I'll be able to move on...I'll NEED to.

In the meantime, we're both telling each other what Sam said to Frodo: "Don't go where I can't follow."