Hey readers,
So I currently have a little financial/computer situation and I am trying out this crowd-sourcing method.
I would love it if you check out the link and pass it on!
Thank you!
Melissa
Sunday, March 23, 2014
Saturday, March 22, 2014
3...2...1...ENGAGE! CIVICALLY!
One of our biggest "events" of the year.
Over twenty 7th and 8th graders. Three days. One Community Service Project.
Last Friday afternoon, I piled my car with four of our Packwood kids and a trunk-full of luggage and we headed out to the boonies of Cispus. Any 7/8 grader in any of our service areas can apply to go to Civic Engagement Camp but because the result of camp must be a student-led project, planned with focus, motivation and responsibility, the kids ultimately have to make it through an AmeriTeam application screening. We don't reject too many applicants but there are some we deem not-quite-ready and some that are questionable. One of our Packwood kids was the latter. Rowdy and prone to showing off for his friends, D was never one I would have thought would even want to apply to camp. But I had heard that when he was removed from the group, or focused on work, he was intelligent, and fairly respectful. We gave him the benefit of the doubt and after reasserting that this would be a work experience, he was the first waiting for my ride that day.
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| The kiddos voted on the group name "Pinequin" which was interpreted a couple different ways when Corey drew up the logo |
Immediately, his attitude was comparatively mellow in our small commuting group. It was this and other behavioral shifts witnessed throughout the weekend that made for one of the best part of camp. As we moved through each of the six units from talking about a sense of place and the importance of community to exploring the power of the kid's voices, votes and actions to effect change and ultimately to create a project of their own, there was a lot of opportunity for on-the-spot participation. I watched a boy who acted unabashedly outrageous in his friend group finally nix his Family Guy accent and nervously deliver a campaign argument. I saw kids that I'd never thought were friends form bonds. And over the course of a weekend, I watched an incredibly rambunctious and distracted group of middle schoolers gradually become more transfixed on the purpose and meaning of the camp. Not to say that they took a 180 or that we didn't hear whines about the work involved here and there, but it was a shift.
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| My rendition of our CE Journals that we decorate in Unit 1 (front) |
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| Back |
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| The Hiking crew |
While we did have "down time" during infirmary shifts - alone in a room at attention for any emergency calls - it had been foolish to think I'd be journaling every day or finally finishing the letter to my brother. The days were long - launching right into our first unit on Friday, rising early and going to bed well past 11pm each night - but I learned a lot in reflecting on how I've come to teach and interact and on how my teammates teach and interact. Even when I was burnt out, I was taking mental notes on what my teammates were doing to keep the kids motivated, the kind of language each of us uses, my strengths and weaknesses. Mary and Mackensie and I had our first unit on Friday and so for the rest of the camp, I was mainly the support team. Saturday, I co-facilitated (well, not quite since Ainsley knows the ropes better) the challenge course for a group of the kids and later on, took some on a hike with Ainsley and Lou.
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| Tower of Tires on the Challenge Course |
Another perk was the reminder of Summer Camp. We had a movie night on Friday where I thoroughly enjoyed "How to Train Your Dragon" and on Saturday, we did campfire songs. Corey asked me to help lead "Zum Gali Gali" which he'd learned at a Catholic camp and a few unexpected ones of my camp past came flooding back to me. We also had a 3-way sing-off of "Mmmm-AAH went the little green frog": Washington, Virginia, and Michigan style. There were quite a few in favor of Virginia's brutal froggy-death ending but the official verdict that night came out in favor of the Michigan truth: that frogs most definitely go "BANANANANANA". : )
The final project that the kids chose was "Trail Navigation" which has since morphed more towards "trail maintenance". The majority of Sunday was spent on Unit 6 during which the groups split up into "task forces", set a date and plot their course of action to make the project a reality. Our White Pass group originally wanted to clean the Packwood Lake Trail and eagerly took their first step of contacting forest service before we'd even arrived home. Under the Forest Service Advice, they are now considering one of two more "high-need" trails. We're pretty proud of them for navigating the logistics.
While it was advised that we give ourselves an "easy week" after the camp, that didn't really end up being feasible for any of us. Monday through Thursday, I felt like I'd hit my head, my mental wit all but depleted. With the team meeting in Mary and I 's hands for Friday, we declared a "potluck and pajama" meeting and I diligently wore my plaid flannels EVERYWHERE for the entire day.
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| I went a bit overboard....sleeplessness-induced crazy? |
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| NOM |
Feeling a bit more rested now. : ) Boeing Museum of Flight
To some, six hours on a bus with 30 middle schoolers may be a hefty trade-off for a free trip but I see it as just one of my many job perks.
My favorite part probably came next when we went outside to the Air Park and got to walk through Air Force One - The first Jet-fueled Airplane used by Presidents - and the SST Concorde which set a 2-hr and 52-minute speed record for crossing the Atlantic. Seeing all the snazzy accoutrements that endowed Air Force One was pretty neat but I mostly liked the opportunity for fresh air as we walked across the boardwalk and around the park.
Plus, the day started off with this:
When I attended the Senior trip to MOHAI, there were so few students that I ended up having rather loosly-guided romping grounds - most of the seniors could handle themselves and had their own priorities on which exhibits interested them most. But for our trip to the Museum of Flight, not only were we on the same time crunch as before but we were double the students and probably triple the territory.
And so, with a tight agenda of 20 minutes per designated "area" (by area I mean like, 2 floor's worth each) I was sent along with my own little bundle of kiddos.
Our bus was late on arrival so 20 minutes turned into a hurried 10 or so in some places. Most of the stops were just visual eye candy. I would have loved to have been able to brush up on my WWI and II history but we had just enough time to ogle the giant planes with intimidated macho paint-jobs and hope to glean a fact or two from any artifacts or photos that caught our eyes.
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| Better know your symbols well in combat! |
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| Dragons, Shark heads, Obnoxious Macho Slogans...the beauty pageants of war |
My favorite part probably came next when we went outside to the Air Park and got to walk through Air Force One - The first Jet-fueled Airplane used by Presidents - and the SST Concorde which set a 2-hr and 52-minute speed record for crossing the Atlantic. Seeing all the snazzy accoutrements that endowed Air Force One was pretty neat but I mostly liked the opportunity for fresh air as we walked across the boardwalk and around the park.
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| Add caption |
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| Some of the kids had never been on a plane before. They are being sorely misguided by this unnaturally spacious interior. |
We headed back inside where we got to step inside a to-scale model of a Space Shuttle which would have been used to launch Telescopes and Cargo into space. The Shuttle is equipped with a 50-foot "arm" that places contents out into space which was pretty trippy to visualize.
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| a 1/2 Scale Model of the Hubble Space Telescope hanging from the ceiling. |
During our lunch break, I went back to a penny press machine we'd passed earlier to get my go-to souvenir. I made an extra one for one of my kids that had eagerly wanted to stop while we were transitioning to another room. I had just about let her but the strictest of our chaperones had just then caught up to us. When I imparted my tradition to her later, she was thrilled and decided she would pick up a collection of her own. I will never let the penny press tradition die!
The last two hours of the day were "work hours". The kids were brought into an auditorium and handed a "mission" by "commanders" Tony, Sandra and Diane. Our group of kids were to be saddled with the task of colonizing the moon, the first moon landing since we left in 1972. The prospect of our fate being in their hands seemed dire as they were quizzed on some moon basics:
After we realized we were doomed, we split into two groups. It was emphasized to us adults that we were "tourists" and to leave the kids to their own devices as we observed the mission. One group went into the control room while another was "launched into space" in a cramped shuttle. Mary and I started "on the ground". Each kid or pair had a screen tailored to their taskforce: Navigation, Communications, Data, Research, Medical etc. Each station had a binder that explained the basic functions and then followed a script which prompted responsibilities at various times. At first, everyone was pretty unfocused but when a warning light came on telling them that their crew was losing oxygen, the teams became more focused, delivering supplies to them with about a minute left. About an hour in, the groups switched. There was certainly more to do in the "spacecraft" but the tight space made me a little stir crazy and my fuel was running on fumes. y'all can have your space travel. I'll keep my wide open spaces, thanks.
On the way home, when I wasn't drifting into a doze, I getting to know the highly talkative E and R seated across from me, encouraging E about her singing voice (although the song choices were all "Top 40") and sampling R's playlist of classics. Eventually, I tuned out to observe unaware drivers outside as they passed below my window, making up classifications as I pondered this weird clock-work activity that we spend far too much of our lives involved in: the Commute.
You have the Nail-Biters, Nose-pickers and Eyelash Tweekers. These are the most mentally restless and anxious bunch, manifesting their non-stop mind-gear in unconscious habitual actions.
There are the Ready-For-Impact folk who drive with arms locked out in front of them, as though bracing for some inevitable collision.
The Cruisers are the laid-back type, the ones that enjoy the commute or even just go out for a joy ride. I saw one guy in particular who was puffing a fatty cigar like Johnny Depp's Fear and Loathing...
The Mobile Lifers are easy to spot. The pop bottles, cigarette boxes, fast food containers decorate the dashboard. There is usually a trinket or two - a personal mantra for their "home" - interspersed with the clutter. Mobile lifers are different from travelers and cruisers. They never appear as though it was their first choice to have a life spent so heavily on the road.
The Zone Outs are easy also. Maybe the most common. We all do it at some point.
It gets really awkward when there are multiple people. Seldom do I see enthusiastic driver-passenger engagement. Often, the passenger is dosing. I was pleased to see a couple of older vehicle occupants having animated conversation but it is a rarity.
In the three hours home, I saw 3 smiling people, 3 singers and 1 driver who was acutely observant (and actually sensed that I was looking at him through the tinted windows, likely having similar ponderings about the nature of people. He wasn't from the city.
How big is the Moon? (1/4 the size of earth. Rather, approximately the size of Africa, 2,000 miles.)
What is the gravity ratio? (About 1/6 of Earth's)
What are the Black spots? (Lunar Lowlands or "Black Moreas", Latin for "Sea" comprised of Basaltic Lava)
What are the white spots? (Older, Lunar Highlands)
And the Doosy that no one got: How many times does the moon rotate on its axis in one earth rotation? (Y'all know this, right?)
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| But at least we weren't in this Russian Space Shuttle. |
On the way home, when I wasn't drifting into a doze, I getting to know the highly talkative E and R seated across from me, encouraging E about her singing voice (although the song choices were all "Top 40") and sampling R's playlist of classics. Eventually, I tuned out to observe unaware drivers outside as they passed below my window, making up classifications as I pondered this weird clock-work activity that we spend far too much of our lives involved in: the Commute.
You have the Nail-Biters, Nose-pickers and Eyelash Tweekers. These are the most mentally restless and anxious bunch, manifesting their non-stop mind-gear in unconscious habitual actions.
There are the Ready-For-Impact folk who drive with arms locked out in front of them, as though bracing for some inevitable collision.
The Cruisers are the laid-back type, the ones that enjoy the commute or even just go out for a joy ride. I saw one guy in particular who was puffing a fatty cigar like Johnny Depp's Fear and Loathing...
The Mobile Lifers are easy to spot. The pop bottles, cigarette boxes, fast food containers decorate the dashboard. There is usually a trinket or two - a personal mantra for their "home" - interspersed with the clutter. Mobile lifers are different from travelers and cruisers. They never appear as though it was their first choice to have a life spent so heavily on the road.
The Zone Outs are easy also. Maybe the most common. We all do it at some point.
It gets really awkward when there are multiple people. Seldom do I see enthusiastic driver-passenger engagement. Often, the passenger is dosing. I was pleased to see a couple of older vehicle occupants having animated conversation but it is a rarity.
In the three hours home, I saw 3 smiling people, 3 singers and 1 driver who was acutely observant (and actually sensed that I was looking at him through the tinted windows, likely having similar ponderings about the nature of people. He wasn't from the city.
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| Hooray for SPACE! |
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Communication
It is beginning to feel a lot less like a town and a lot more like a cooperative housing community here. Towns are big enough for communication to hide in fast-paced watches or behind distracted, darting eyes. Connections are interrupted by the occasional face of a stranger, diluting potency of real-deal talk.In a giant web though, you can stretch your thread far and still always follow it back through its points of contact, its criss-crosses, its sticky silk traps the meat of the matter.
It has been on the forefront of my awareness lately. I mean, I guess that it goes without saying, that communication is a rather central life concept. It has just had some significant scenes as of late. The good, the strange, the tough, the ugly.
The good I suppose, is always the boring part to talk about. I feel I have been able to interact very honestly with each team mate. Everyone in Packwood is a friend. I can hear the name of a local and know exactly who and why they are being talked about. I am "the Karaoke girl" the "t-shirt girl" the "garden girl" the "coffee shop girl". And best of all, I get to talk to the awesomest gal in Packwood on a daily basis.
The strange is strange. Our landlord repeating questions within minutes of each other because he does not know how to talk to us anymore.
And then there is why I am here.
The 7-year old that tells me he is moving in one day and is "happy because there are bad memories at that house" and "sad because I don't have friends." We walk to the gas station for a snack and he tells me he hopes I can be his recess teacher next year because bullying is a problem.
The smart little 1st grader that shows off her pen to me in class, which I instantly recognize to be the ones handed out by the child abuse counselor. "My brother and sister and I have a problem." and "I am sad a lot. I can't see my brother anymore." and "I wanted to write dumb on my paper" to which I respond "well that's a silly thing to write. No one in this class is dumb."
"I wasn't talking about anyone else."
"you're not dumb"
"yeah, right."
The amazing bookworm that gets shot down in class for being the only one to know what "aghast" means and when asked if she's ever wanted to be a writer tells me "I considered it but my family always shoots down my ideas. They say that they see me being striper or a truck driver and marrying a woman."
The kid that storms out of Open Gym because of a bully, which we only find out about later when talking to his mom about it. When we learn it was dealt with poorly at school and try to explain that we would handle it differently, the skepticism in his eyes is jarring.
And we are up against an absurd assortment of parental and authority figures.
Parents that have been concerned with Open Gym because of things that are actually not in our vacinity to monitor and yet instead of coming to us, we learn this be a parent informing us that "a facebook talk has been going on".
A mom that drives around with a "does not play well with others" plastered on her truck in neon pink...with a matching pair of testes hanging off the back.
A district that would rather build new baseball fields than fix a hazardous broken gym that gets utilized by kids regularly.
A school goes on three-hour lockdown after a parent threat against a staff, only to resume without so much as an announcement or reflection moment to address the subject afterwards.
What a web to be a part of.
It has been on the forefront of my awareness lately. I mean, I guess that it goes without saying, that communication is a rather central life concept. It has just had some significant scenes as of late. The good, the strange, the tough, the ugly.
The good I suppose, is always the boring part to talk about. I feel I have been able to interact very honestly with each team mate. Everyone in Packwood is a friend. I can hear the name of a local and know exactly who and why they are being talked about. I am "the Karaoke girl" the "t-shirt girl" the "garden girl" the "coffee shop girl". And best of all, I get to talk to the awesomest gal in Packwood on a daily basis.
The strange is strange. Our landlord repeating questions within minutes of each other because he does not know how to talk to us anymore.
And then there is why I am here.
The 7-year old that tells me he is moving in one day and is "happy because there are bad memories at that house" and "sad because I don't have friends." We walk to the gas station for a snack and he tells me he hopes I can be his recess teacher next year because bullying is a problem.
The smart little 1st grader that shows off her pen to me in class, which I instantly recognize to be the ones handed out by the child abuse counselor. "My brother and sister and I have a problem." and "I am sad a lot. I can't see my brother anymore." and "I wanted to write dumb on my paper" to which I respond "well that's a silly thing to write. No one in this class is dumb."
"I wasn't talking about anyone else."
"you're not dumb"
"yeah, right."
The amazing bookworm that gets shot down in class for being the only one to know what "aghast" means and when asked if she's ever wanted to be a writer tells me "I considered it but my family always shoots down my ideas. They say that they see me being striper or a truck driver and marrying a woman."
The kid that storms out of Open Gym because of a bully, which we only find out about later when talking to his mom about it. When we learn it was dealt with poorly at school and try to explain that we would handle it differently, the skepticism in his eyes is jarring.
And we are up against an absurd assortment of parental and authority figures.
Parents that have been concerned with Open Gym because of things that are actually not in our vacinity to monitor and yet instead of coming to us, we learn this be a parent informing us that "a facebook talk has been going on".
A mom that drives around with a "does not play well with others" plastered on her truck in neon pink...with a matching pair of testes hanging off the back.
A district that would rather build new baseball fields than fix a hazardous broken gym that gets utilized by kids regularly.
A school goes on three-hour lockdown after a parent threat against a staff, only to resume without so much as an announcement or reflection moment to address the subject afterwards.
What a web to be a part of.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Kicking off March on the Mountain!
No longer feeling like I need to be dragged tooth-and-nail onto the Pass, I was excited when I finally had a chance to get in my third excursion for the WINTER CARNIVAL.
We left on the early side and gave one of the older kids a ride up with us. He was a ski instructor up there and was gonna polish up on some boarding with us for the day. Unfortunately, the weather was not on our side. It was cold, hard, fast ice on the slopes. Before we even got on the lift, I was starting to freeze inside my boots. My dilemma was brought to decision when on our second run down, our kid took a tumble at the top of the Tripple. After laying with a grimmace on his face for a few minutes, he claimed he was alright and we continued on down. But it wasn't long before he caught up to us, gliding delicately on heel-side, to say he was pretty sure his collarbone was broken. He boarded all the way down and we got him into first aid where they came to the same conclusion. Mary and I ended up driving him down to his parents to take him off to the hospital and he was a trooper the whole way.
We went back up for the rest of the day but after running into a couple of regualr slopers who confirmed the difficulty of the conditions, I didn't feel too bad when I only had it in me for five more runs. I was just getting frustrated that the conditions were too extreme for me to experiment on new skills and after a double somersault left me with a nice battle-bruise on my nose, I resigned to simple, boring glides.
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| owch! |
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| The Snow Castle and it's Oz Ensemble |
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| Patty dolled up as the Tin Man |
Sunday was mostly a day off. I ventured to the Spruce in the afternoon to wish Kelly's son JC a happy 18th and witness the family tradition of boob-cake-in-the-face. On Monday, I spiced up the day-to-day by meeting Ainsley at Cispus to help her with a mural for the Survival room.
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| At least it looks recognizable! |
March is feeling good so far.
Half Way
AmeriCorps saga 2013-2014 is half way over.
Moments of reflection have been creeping into my day-to-day. I find myself thinking about those first few weeks of Open Gym and around town, feeling like the outsider on trial. A candidate or in-law being evaluated for approval. I remember wondering how I was going to ever build a closeness with some of our kids or how I felt cornered into a status-quo of a worn out AmeriAgenda. Or simply how there were to many names to remember in this town!
Now it all seems ridiculous. The doubt I held as I read previous members' words of wisdom has transformed into wisdom of my own.
This half way feels like a beginning, and I don't think I am the only one.
In just this past month, I have felt closer to everyone. The community, the kids the group. Dynamics between the eleven of us co-workers are not always the most pleasant but they are more real now. At this point, we all have a deep sense of one another as individuals and even through disagreements, I have enjoyed recognizing how my ability to communicate in these situations continues to evolve.
In some recent back and forth with Alice, we both shared a similar expanding of acceptance for the work we are doing. Particularly with the kids. You start out recognizing the well-behaved ones, the easy-going days, the challenging combinations of people, the most taxing quirks. At first, there is the set of favorites, the appreciation for easy cooperation that makes days go fast and smooth. And now, there is a full circle. Suddenly, the difficulties and the more mysterious attitudes become more engaging and finally, every child is a gem, even the toughest shelled. That takes real understanding and relationship.
And in turn, I seem to have passed evaluation with flying colors. Everyone I see driving down the road is a friendly face to wave at. Parents finally know my name and kids are finally asking for me as a person and a friend than just someone to lay down rules or get them something they need. I find that my influence I have underestimated is re-established with every kid that goes out of their way to say hi, wave, rush up and hug me whenever we cross paths. Even when I cannot fully acknowledge my own influence, I can see that they see it. And it has inspired me to continue finding little ways to enliven the open gym and the other work that I do. When people now ask if I am staying a second year, I feel like there is genuinely one answer that they want me to have.
And that answer is yes.
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| Our collection of kiddos sweeping our floor : ) |
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| celebrating JC's 18th |
The Packwood Planters are Blooming
The highlight of the busy month of February was that we finally saw some progress on the garden.
After putting the Packwood Planters Community Garden on the back burner for a bit, I kicked myself into action and just dove in. The level of activity had been reduced to very circular-feeling talks about talking about doing. Our kid Ellie proved to be my primary motivator for not giving up. Ellie is incredibly opinionated and bright and has high (and reasonably so) expectations of AmeriCorps members. In the past, it sounded as though many in Packwood had done the bare quid-pro-quo and not really stretched the boundaries of what they were capable of bringing to the community. As was brought to the town by one of her favorite past members, Ellie wants innovation, engagement, new crafts and projects presented, strong and fun fundraising efforts, awareness of individual's needs and comfort at the Open Gym...things that any kid should want and things that we should be prepared to embark on. When Ellie got fired up about the garden from the get-go, I knew that I could not let it become a passing whimsy in the wind.
But it is hard here. There is a lot of initial enthusiasm for things that take effort. But when it comes down to it, people just don't show up. After frustrating discussions with the school, I gave up for a little while. But I was sick of reporting failed attempts and stalls to Ellie when she approached me with wide eyes day after day, asking how things were progressing. With no exciting answers, her voice would dip into monotone disappointment that seemed to be all too familiar with her.
And so, fall-throughs after fall-throughs, I finally went to talk to Fire Hall Directors Lonnie and Barb. They had lent out part of their property a few years ago for a garden attempt that had fallen through. It had been on the back burner because we weren't sure how open they would be to attempt number two but with one meeting, I had garnered permission. When Ellie heard the news, she was ready to race into the next step: a long-discussed talent show fundraiser. She was all about the public relations and had been wanting to get into promotion from the get-go, before we even had a direction. My cautious, meticulous planner side did not want to launch into something that would go to waste on a poorly thought-out plan but I knew we needed money to get any further. And so on that billionth time, when her eyes lit up to set a date for a show, I blurted "Okay! February 9th!" And the next day, she had fliers.
Well February 9th was a bit of a short notice, but it got me on the move. We pushed the date back a week to the 16th and set a meeting date, as I finally felt we had reason to do so. In the meantime, I continued to try and form something cohesive for the public to grasp onto when asked to throw money our way. I made a rough powerpoint and at the beginning of the month, I met with Loren, a recently retired teacher settling into full-time vacation in Packwood. Loren had taken on the role of business-savvy mentor for our group, having done a student community garden in Tacoma during his career. He had a blunt, no-fooling-around way of getting to the core of what was needed. Under the rough edges though, he was soft-hearted and willing to help in any way he could. He reviewed the slides of my powerpoint and pointed out where I needed to make it stronger to garner public enthusiasm. He advised me on what details I needed to have and what could be left unsaid as we continued to work out kinks. We planned out the math for wood that we would need for three beds of various sizes and he took on the task of talking to our local ACE and ARROW lumber to try and secure donations.
That is when things took off.
I perfected my presentation and tested it out on the elder folk at the senior center which proved to be a very friendly and receptive group. I went full into talent recruiting mode. My excitement boosted when I heard that our pastor Lynn Longfield had told the Packwood Improvement Club (PIC) about the project and garnered a $200 donation for us. Ellie's mom Sarah employed her garden expertise and met with me at the property one day to figure out what crops we could grow. By the time we had our final meeting before the show, we had a package that the community could get behind.
Loren had gotten the ay-okay on wood for three 2x12x4-foot raised beds. Sarah had made a professional draft of crop layout and would buy our seeds for Lou to start at the schools greenhouse that he had been fixing up. Everyone at the meeting knew someone they could ask about performing in our show. Ellie, fixed on fundraising, suggested we put donation jars up around businesses and ask for contributions to build raffle baskets for the event.
By the 16th, we had a substantial line-up and even a few surprise calls trickling in. Bruce, a man I'd met at the senior center, called just the day before and asked if he could be in even though he was an amateur. I was thrilled. We now had kids, professional musicians and elder community members partaking. Ellie's music teacher Paul Hanson shuttled in his whole PA system and from ACE, Lee Grosse lent out his popcorn machine. I had written up donation letters to businesses and received enough items to build two nice "Packwood Baskets" for a raffle. As the event drew closer, I became more and more nervous about turn out. For our best chances though, I couldn't show any doubt and by the end of the week, I felt my shameless promotion had a backing to it.
I made official programs, got balloons from the gift store, and asked Ellie to bring down neon duct tape to make a big sign along the building.
On the last night of Open Gym that week, we cleared the stage. The day of, I arrived to the gym two hours early to start setting up with the help of Mackensie, Nora, Alice, Corey, Mary, Ellie, her sister and Sarah. Paul was next to arrive with his equipment and we transformed the building into a performance hall. When 3:30 rolled around, I was nervous. People were trickling in but I realized I had put 4pm as the start but had not suggested a "doors open" time so I had no idea when and if people would turn out. The heat in the gym was being finicky as usual and people were starting to comment on the cold. I didn't want them to have to wait too long to get the show started.
And somehow, as I rushed around to get the final pieces together, the gym filled and we were ready to go by about 10 after. I opened with a whole-hearted expression of gratitude for all that had turned out and an oral explanation of the project they were supporting. When I got to the part about our goal of having beds built by the end of march, the audience cheered with vigor that shook my heart. It meant the project felt real to them. I kicked off with a poem I'd written the night before and we were on a roll.
I couldn't have asked for a more amazing outcome. About an hour and a half of talent and over $400 dollars of donations later, I thanked a wildly satisfied audience for coming. Before everyone rose fromt their chairs, Mary jumped up to grab the mic and offered a surprising public statement of thanks to me that planted a huge grin on my face. As people left, I got a lot of feedback that expressed eagerness for many more talent shows in the future and for days to come, I heard these sentiments wherever I went.
And so February's efforts concluded with huge support for an even busier month ahead, as we get our hands on supplies and begin to build!
(Stay tuned for a video of the Talent Show, hopefully to come soon!)
For the full scoop on the Packwood Planters garden project, check out Our snazzy website and our equally snazzy facebook page!
After putting the Packwood Planters Community Garden on the back burner for a bit, I kicked myself into action and just dove in. The level of activity had been reduced to very circular-feeling talks about talking about doing. Our kid Ellie proved to be my primary motivator for not giving up. Ellie is incredibly opinionated and bright and has high (and reasonably so) expectations of AmeriCorps members. In the past, it sounded as though many in Packwood had done the bare quid-pro-quo and not really stretched the boundaries of what they were capable of bringing to the community. As was brought to the town by one of her favorite past members, Ellie wants innovation, engagement, new crafts and projects presented, strong and fun fundraising efforts, awareness of individual's needs and comfort at the Open Gym...things that any kid should want and things that we should be prepared to embark on. When Ellie got fired up about the garden from the get-go, I knew that I could not let it become a passing whimsy in the wind.
But it is hard here. There is a lot of initial enthusiasm for things that take effort. But when it comes down to it, people just don't show up. After frustrating discussions with the school, I gave up for a little while. But I was sick of reporting failed attempts and stalls to Ellie when she approached me with wide eyes day after day, asking how things were progressing. With no exciting answers, her voice would dip into monotone disappointment that seemed to be all too familiar with her.
And so, fall-throughs after fall-throughs, I finally went to talk to Fire Hall Directors Lonnie and Barb. They had lent out part of their property a few years ago for a garden attempt that had fallen through. It had been on the back burner because we weren't sure how open they would be to attempt number two but with one meeting, I had garnered permission. When Ellie heard the news, she was ready to race into the next step: a long-discussed talent show fundraiser. She was all about the public relations and had been wanting to get into promotion from the get-go, before we even had a direction. My cautious, meticulous planner side did not want to launch into something that would go to waste on a poorly thought-out plan but I knew we needed money to get any further. And so on that billionth time, when her eyes lit up to set a date for a show, I blurted "Okay! February 9th!" And the next day, she had fliers.
Well February 9th was a bit of a short notice, but it got me on the move. We pushed the date back a week to the 16th and set a meeting date, as I finally felt we had reason to do so. In the meantime, I continued to try and form something cohesive for the public to grasp onto when asked to throw money our way. I made a rough powerpoint and at the beginning of the month, I met with Loren, a recently retired teacher settling into full-time vacation in Packwood. Loren had taken on the role of business-savvy mentor for our group, having done a student community garden in Tacoma during his career. He had a blunt, no-fooling-around way of getting to the core of what was needed. Under the rough edges though, he was soft-hearted and willing to help in any way he could. He reviewed the slides of my powerpoint and pointed out where I needed to make it stronger to garner public enthusiasm. He advised me on what details I needed to have and what could be left unsaid as we continued to work out kinks. We planned out the math for wood that we would need for three beds of various sizes and he took on the task of talking to our local ACE and ARROW lumber to try and secure donations.
That is when things took off.
I perfected my presentation and tested it out on the elder folk at the senior center which proved to be a very friendly and receptive group. I went full into talent recruiting mode. My excitement boosted when I heard that our pastor Lynn Longfield had told the Packwood Improvement Club (PIC) about the project and garnered a $200 donation for us. Ellie's mom Sarah employed her garden expertise and met with me at the property one day to figure out what crops we could grow. By the time we had our final meeting before the show, we had a package that the community could get behind.
Loren had gotten the ay-okay on wood for three 2x12x4-foot raised beds. Sarah had made a professional draft of crop layout and would buy our seeds for Lou to start at the schools greenhouse that he had been fixing up. Everyone at the meeting knew someone they could ask about performing in our show. Ellie, fixed on fundraising, suggested we put donation jars up around businesses and ask for contributions to build raffle baskets for the event.
By the 16th, we had a substantial line-up and even a few surprise calls trickling in. Bruce, a man I'd met at the senior center, called just the day before and asked if he could be in even though he was an amateur. I was thrilled. We now had kids, professional musicians and elder community members partaking. Ellie's music teacher Paul Hanson shuttled in his whole PA system and from ACE, Lee Grosse lent out his popcorn machine. I had written up donation letters to businesses and received enough items to build two nice "Packwood Baskets" for a raffle. As the event drew closer, I became more and more nervous about turn out. For our best chances though, I couldn't show any doubt and by the end of the week, I felt my shameless promotion had a backing to it.
I made official programs, got balloons from the gift store, and asked Ellie to bring down neon duct tape to make a big sign along the building.
On the last night of Open Gym that week, we cleared the stage. The day of, I arrived to the gym two hours early to start setting up with the help of Mackensie, Nora, Alice, Corey, Mary, Ellie, her sister and Sarah. Paul was next to arrive with his equipment and we transformed the building into a performance hall. When 3:30 rolled around, I was nervous. People were trickling in but I realized I had put 4pm as the start but had not suggested a "doors open" time so I had no idea when and if people would turn out. The heat in the gym was being finicky as usual and people were starting to comment on the cold. I didn't want them to have to wait too long to get the show started.
I couldn't have asked for a more amazing outcome. About an hour and a half of talent and over $400 dollars of donations later, I thanked a wildly satisfied audience for coming. Before everyone rose fromt their chairs, Mary jumped up to grab the mic and offered a surprising public statement of thanks to me that planted a huge grin on my face. As people left, I got a lot of feedback that expressed eagerness for many more talent shows in the future and for days to come, I heard these sentiments wherever I went.
And so February's efforts concluded with huge support for an even busier month ahead, as we get our hands on supplies and begin to build!
(Stay tuned for a video of the Talent Show, hopefully to come soon!)
For the full scoop on the Packwood Planters garden project, check out Our snazzy website and our equally snazzy facebook page!
Sunday, March 2, 2014
AmeriMania!
So, what did that rejuvination bring about?
Well, first off....Snowboarding!
The week that we returned, Mary got me up on the slops. I was terrified and even once I'd grasped it, was still not sure if I could be convinced to become a sloper. I spent my first day drifting in wide zig zags - what is called "falling leaf" that I really garnered no control over. I felt pretty rad when I actually got enough speed and distance to feel a breeze but Mary later told me there is absolutely no skill in falling leaf (buzz kill! But no, there really isn't.) I also excelled at falling. I did a pretty excellent number, running into another novice and sort of half somersaulting around him. I got so used to falling that I think I would get to points in my run where I felt like I was just supposed to fall and let it happen more than I needed to. I was pretty into things by the end but on my second to last run, I went off the groomed area and nicked some harsh snow that sent me hurling sort of forward and over and caused lots of really unpleasant cracking. I was unsure if the noise was all my neck or mostly my helmet but a mild headache I'd had catapulted into a dazing throb.
I'd inconveniently plotted my fast throughout the next days and I am sure this did not help my re-coup time after my first excursion. It took quite a few days, and a chiropractor visit to feel decently mobile again.
The second time around, I approached the idea with almost the same inner dread. Yet what transpired throughout the day was a shift from anxious survival to sheer enjoyment. I started to dabble more in toe-side - the more difficult of the positions with which to control direction - and managed to hold it momentarily a couple of times (before promptly falling). We were not graced with the same springy weather as before however, and by the time we were leaving the snow was acquiring a crunchy meddlesome layer of powder and the winds were starting to eat beyond our winter armor. But I left that day with an assured change in outlook. I am officially excited for the time I get to go up next. And last night I met a guy who instructs up there and who offered to help me progress with that (and also teach me safe falling.)
The weeks of cleansing leading up to February were really like my pre-game amp-up for a crazy-busy month. I re-vamped my outlook on the Community Garden attempts (to be covered in a separate post because its so exciting and involved) and took the reigns in promoting our annual AmeriCorps Pancake Feed. Insanity had us put it on our calendar for the week we returned from winter break. It had been done that haphazardly the year before and for lack of advertising, about five people came to chow down. I've developed a fairly good endurance for the tedious task of promoting and advertising events and such so I took a chunk of motivation from my depository and got on top of spreading the word.
In the same vein, I rolled out permission slips for our next Bowling Field Trip for the younger kids and after weeks of just leaving a form of interest on the Open Gym table for ordering our AmeriCorps-designed T-shirts, I realized I could be taking it out and about town. So the pre-game was lots of walking and talking and out and abouting.
Late January did present a couple of events as well.
On the last day of my fast, a group of us volunteered to serve at the annual Packwood Crab feed, perfect for me since the crab smell certainly did not increase my appetite.
For Martin Luther King Day, we held our "Civic Engagement Project: Healthy Meal on a Budget." I don't recall whether or not I mentioned this in a previous post, probably because as soon as it was voted upon that this would be the result of our team's practice of the Civic Engagement Camp that we do with the kids in the Spring, I checked out. Mentally, and pretty much physically to any extent that I could. At the last minute, I worked up enough commitment to research some of the nutrition and cooking tips of our meal plan and make a price comparison at local stores. But I was not thrilled about the project. The Civic Engagement curriculum is supposed to prepare kids with the tools, resources and understanding of what it takes to put on a service project for your community and the importance of actively engaging in your community. And on our day of service, we found ourselves hiding away in a church kitchen with three parents that knew how to cook, a restless kid, and a teen there for class credit. I felt like we were completely disconnected with what the community could find useful. At least everyone enjoyed the food.
We held our Pancake Breakfast on February 1st. Mary and I had picked up our big order from Blanton's the night before and had it all ready to dive into at the Community Hall. Even so, we were up at 4am. Setting up the tables and cutting our first plate of fruit took next to no time but the early arrival was necessary in order to get a head start on the bacon, perhaps even more of a hit than the hotcakes. Around 6:30, we started to heat our three griddles...on the same wall. We didn't get very far before the fuse blew and we had to rearrange. Still, the trickle of early risers was next to nothing and with a few more of the team arriving, we were well-stocked for our first diners.
There was a lot of nervous apprehension going around after the previous year's big bust - about 5 people had turned up - and for the first hour or so, we looked imploringly out windows at the passing cars. I challenged Lou to even go so far as to stage some performance pancake-eating outside on the side of the road. Eventually the day picked up and we had a modest but steady flow.
On February 4th, we took some of our younger Open Gym kids to the Bowling Alley.
The Bowling experience itself was a bit grueling.
-The heat had not been working all day so the place was being warmed by one space heater
-The kids rarely held out past their turn before running off to pass the time with other games
-The youngest tended to think that money just came from adults and kept asking the owners for quarters
-All of the money they did bring went towards WAY too much sugar from the vending machines
-By the end of the night, they were all wrecking havoc on the small play area that the owners had set up for their own children during work hours
However, the most beneficial thing for me was the drive. Mary took the large van which tends to be all the more enticing to the kiddos cause it fits more friends. In the rush to call dibs, I ended up getting some of our more tough-minded kids in my car for the drive up. One in particular, E, claimed shotgun. With the toughest wall I have ever tried to communicate with, the most I had ever talked about with E beyond discipline and oversight was electronics. He loved to gush about every iPod, iPhone and computer you had to the point that you would start to wonder if he would run away with it right then and there. On the drive up, his entire focus was my phone and my ipod and trying to get music that he liked. For a while, he scrolled through my iPod music selection, laughing at some K'naan titles and surprisingly pausing longer at Norah Jones that I would have expected. Eventually his eagerness for rap led him to try and get Pandora working on my phone. As luck would have it, the connection was not in the mood to cooperate and he spent most of the drive bouncing back and forth between devices, cursing the internet while I tried reasoning with him to think about how much effort it takes that little device to connect. When we were almost there, I had gotten sick of the frustration. He had been trying to play Eminem and conveniently enough, a pang of nostalgia had struck me just the other day and I my old copy of Curtain Call that my middle school friend had burned me in my CD player. There was a mix of bafflement, frustration and joy as I disclosed the secret I'd been stashing. I was most hesitant because curtain call is not exactly his cleanest album but all of the kids in the car were gung-ho fans and knew all the lyrics anyway. And luckily E was so ADD that we didn't even listen to a full song before we had arrived.
I still felt uncomfortable with the fact that I was just letting these young kids listen to profane rap without inquiry. My allowance had won them over, vying to be in my lift on the ride home but I told them I would not let them play it the whole time. Still they were eager to ride with me. We listened to the CD about half-way but I kept it on low and while the music went on in the background, I began to try and carry some conversation. I asked E if he had ever free-styled, asked him what he found so appealing about the music and through these and other questions, the conversation spilled over into things deeper - glimpses of insecurity, resilience and limitations - and I realized that I had just won a new level of respect with this kid.
Then the busy-ness kept coming. Assisting at a health fair. A fashion show. A roller rink. I have also been trying to get more involved in monthly Teen Center Girl's nights that Alice has been hosting. This month, I got into planning mode with her and we had a small but engaged group join us to make art, watch movies about Media influence and discuss what it means to have inner confidence. These nights produce a delicate balance of fun and entertainment while also encouraging some deeper discussions to surface and I think over the next months, we can see that evolve more and more.
Multi-facited February...and there was more!
Through my assistance at the food bank, another big thing that I took on this month was a revival of the White Pass Backpack Program. The program is meant to act as a way to get food to students in need by sending them home with a backpack full of meal components for the weekend. One day after packing food, I got dragged into a reviewal food bank meeting. I ended up becoming a key component when a few members mentioned this Food Assistance Program that had been started with AmeriCorps a number of years ago and despite of its value, had abruptly stopped. There was consensus that everyone wanted it up and rolling again and the only piece that was missing was talking to the school...and making sure there was someone willing to continue it. So I took the role and a few weeks later was collaborating with school faculty and our Food Bank Director to order food and get out permission slips. It has been good to have another project that will bring me more into the school pool and I am excited to re-vamp it a little. One criticism that our superintendent had about the previous attempt was that a lot of junk was being sent home and we were not actually meeting meal requirements. And so with our collection of food, I asked for some bulk items like oats and rice and produce when available from the food bank fridge. I wrote up a "newsletter"of sorts called the Backpack Buddy which I intend to fill with recipes, nutrition about some of the contents of each pack, cooking tips and various health reads as called to. With the backpacks going out every other week, alternating with food bank weeks, I will hopefully have time to write one for each backpack weekend. If not, at least every other one.
As I began leaning more and more towards a second year here, I decided to start looking into the schools this month to see how I might want to be involved there more. Thus far, I've only seen the experience of working with the high school/Junior high and based on these accounts, the jury is definitely still out:
-High school shadowing: I followed Mary around to her classes for a full day and left exhausted, disgruntled and yet still feeling my need to be there more than ever. Most of her classes were math and I felt way under-qualified to dive in in any capacity. However, during one english class I couldn't take it anymore and broke out of my observation role to help a couple of students write poetry. The class was in shambles. They'd had a sub that day and both the sub and the kids had a mutual disdain for one another. And so, after 5 minutes of attempted sharing of their "5 sense poems" between shuffles and commentary and peer-pestering, Mrs Vessy was yelling at the class to "BE QUIET" and "Well, not how I wanted to spend this class but now all of you are just going to sit and write me twelve of those poems. Cause apparently you can't handle sharing." This did not go over much better and the two girls nearest to me kept chatting away. One of them was tossing out plenty of ideas and yet the pencil did not once touch the paper and so I rolled my chair over and began to facilitate some actual writing. I managed to get her to do two of the 12. Near the end of the class, it was obvious that most people would not finish and so instead, I decided to just ask her why the assignment seemed so difficult. She answered justly, that she had to feel inspired. And so I asked what inspired her and she said "the outdoors." Here, in a musty room of 20 or so rowdy, restless teens, I couldn't blame her for not wanting to write. In fact, I couldn't blame anyone. She, probably like most of the kids, was pitted bitterly against the sub, seeing her as nasty and disrespectful and the sub in turn saw them in the same light. It was a battle of stubborn egoism and uncompromising discipline. There was no understanding, no room or time for it. I saw this all throughout the day and I was split. I knew I would get endlessly frustrated being in a school like this and yet I knew that I had the potential to plant ideas of different educational models if I came to work in these classrooms, even if they were just the smallest grains of inspiration.
Junior High Dance: This was all kinds of flashback. The blinding drama of teen love. The insecure social awkwardness cloaked in complexes of confused egos. The crying. The giggles. The odd phenomenon of people coming to a function to sit or stand around in fear of what they actually came to do. It was brilliant. Highlights include: the couples that took half the night to even say hello and when they finally got to a slow dance, stood shoulder to shoulder with their buddies and talked girl to girl, guy to guy the entire song. B, one of the few always blissfully removed from the typical drama, seeing it all through only the eyes of a camera. The girl with heels that were an inch too big for her feet. Noticing the ratio of time spent on the dance floor to time spent in corners on cell phones. Realizing that I am not there and never have to be ever again.
Field Trips: Mary got me an in on going on any and all of the field trips for the rest of the year. I took the opportunity to hitch a ride to Seattle with 15 seniors for a visit to the newish Museum of History and Industry (MOHAI). This group had hardly any reason for a chaperone - a whole other experience from the rest of my school interactions. The trip was great except that we had far too short a time to peruse the 3-story building that explored everything from the first pioneers to the last to make history in the City of Seattle. I had to rush through most of it but I was glad that I opted to sit through a particular video that explained the Great Seattle Fire of 1889 that caused the city to have to be rebuilt. The event was documented musical style, assigning old artifacts as "singers" in the skit. Very Schoolhouse Rock style. I think they should make a whole feature musical covering all of the topics in the museum. Even with the short time, it seemed like most of the kids got something from it and found a favorite part, whether it be the maritime exhibit, the vast display of famous faces from seattle, the history of Microsoft, Seattle during the war, or dabbling with the interactive maps that show you where you would most fit in in the giant collection of neighborhoods.
Next week, I will be shadowing Mackensie in the elementary school to compare notes.
In February, I began to pump more into the day-to-day as well, keeping up with my "today in history" posts at Open Gym, bringing craft ideas along and engaging more in the basketball and football happenings of the evening. But my biggest focus of the month was the turn of a doubtful vision into a blossoming actualization....
Well, first off....Snowboarding!
The week that we returned, Mary got me up on the slops. I was terrified and even once I'd grasped it, was still not sure if I could be convinced to become a sloper. I spent my first day drifting in wide zig zags - what is called "falling leaf" that I really garnered no control over. I felt pretty rad when I actually got enough speed and distance to feel a breeze but Mary later told me there is absolutely no skill in falling leaf (buzz kill! But no, there really isn't.) I also excelled at falling. I did a pretty excellent number, running into another novice and sort of half somersaulting around him. I got so used to falling that I think I would get to points in my run where I felt like I was just supposed to fall and let it happen more than I needed to. I was pretty into things by the end but on my second to last run, I went off the groomed area and nicked some harsh snow that sent me hurling sort of forward and over and caused lots of really unpleasant cracking. I was unsure if the noise was all my neck or mostly my helmet but a mild headache I'd had catapulted into a dazing throb.I'd inconveniently plotted my fast throughout the next days and I am sure this did not help my re-coup time after my first excursion. It took quite a few days, and a chiropractor visit to feel decently mobile again.
The second time around, I approached the idea with almost the same inner dread. Yet what transpired throughout the day was a shift from anxious survival to sheer enjoyment. I started to dabble more in toe-side - the more difficult of the positions with which to control direction - and managed to hold it momentarily a couple of times (before promptly falling). We were not graced with the same springy weather as before however, and by the time we were leaving the snow was acquiring a crunchy meddlesome layer of powder and the winds were starting to eat beyond our winter armor. But I left that day with an assured change in outlook. I am officially excited for the time I get to go up next. And last night I met a guy who instructs up there and who offered to help me progress with that (and also teach me safe falling.)
The weeks of cleansing leading up to February were really like my pre-game amp-up for a crazy-busy month. I re-vamped my outlook on the Community Garden attempts (to be covered in a separate post because its so exciting and involved) and took the reigns in promoting our annual AmeriCorps Pancake Feed. Insanity had us put it on our calendar for the week we returned from winter break. It had been done that haphazardly the year before and for lack of advertising, about five people came to chow down. I've developed a fairly good endurance for the tedious task of promoting and advertising events and such so I took a chunk of motivation from my depository and got on top of spreading the word.
In the same vein, I rolled out permission slips for our next Bowling Field Trip for the younger kids and after weeks of just leaving a form of interest on the Open Gym table for ordering our AmeriCorps-designed T-shirts, I realized I could be taking it out and about town. So the pre-game was lots of walking and talking and out and abouting.
Late January did present a couple of events as well.
On the last day of my fast, a group of us volunteered to serve at the annual Packwood Crab feed, perfect for me since the crab smell certainly did not increase my appetite.
For Martin Luther King Day, we held our "Civic Engagement Project: Healthy Meal on a Budget." I don't recall whether or not I mentioned this in a previous post, probably because as soon as it was voted upon that this would be the result of our team's practice of the Civic Engagement Camp that we do with the kids in the Spring, I checked out. Mentally, and pretty much physically to any extent that I could. At the last minute, I worked up enough commitment to research some of the nutrition and cooking tips of our meal plan and make a price comparison at local stores. But I was not thrilled about the project. The Civic Engagement curriculum is supposed to prepare kids with the tools, resources and understanding of what it takes to put on a service project for your community and the importance of actively engaging in your community. And on our day of service, we found ourselves hiding away in a church kitchen with three parents that knew how to cook, a restless kid, and a teen there for class credit. I felt like we were completely disconnected with what the community could find useful. At least everyone enjoyed the food.
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| Alice cheerfully flips flapjacks |
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| fluffy! |
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| Stoked to see some of our kids stop by for breakfast on the way to the Pass |
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| Live Action Advertising |
On February 4th, we took some of our younger Open Gym kids to the Bowling Alley.
The Bowling experience itself was a bit grueling.
-The heat had not been working all day so the place was being warmed by one space heater
-The kids rarely held out past their turn before running off to pass the time with other games
-The youngest tended to think that money just came from adults and kept asking the owners for quarters
-All of the money they did bring went towards WAY too much sugar from the vending machines
-By the end of the night, they were all wrecking havoc on the small play area that the owners had set up for their own children during work hours
However, the most beneficial thing for me was the drive. Mary took the large van which tends to be all the more enticing to the kiddos cause it fits more friends. In the rush to call dibs, I ended up getting some of our more tough-minded kids in my car for the drive up. One in particular, E, claimed shotgun. With the toughest wall I have ever tried to communicate with, the most I had ever talked about with E beyond discipline and oversight was electronics. He loved to gush about every iPod, iPhone and computer you had to the point that you would start to wonder if he would run away with it right then and there. On the drive up, his entire focus was my phone and my ipod and trying to get music that he liked. For a while, he scrolled through my iPod music selection, laughing at some K'naan titles and surprisingly pausing longer at Norah Jones that I would have expected. Eventually his eagerness for rap led him to try and get Pandora working on my phone. As luck would have it, the connection was not in the mood to cooperate and he spent most of the drive bouncing back and forth between devices, cursing the internet while I tried reasoning with him to think about how much effort it takes that little device to connect. When we were almost there, I had gotten sick of the frustration. He had been trying to play Eminem and conveniently enough, a pang of nostalgia had struck me just the other day and I my old copy of Curtain Call that my middle school friend had burned me in my CD player. There was a mix of bafflement, frustration and joy as I disclosed the secret I'd been stashing. I was most hesitant because curtain call is not exactly his cleanest album but all of the kids in the car were gung-ho fans and knew all the lyrics anyway. And luckily E was so ADD that we didn't even listen to a full song before we had arrived.
I still felt uncomfortable with the fact that I was just letting these young kids listen to profane rap without inquiry. My allowance had won them over, vying to be in my lift on the ride home but I told them I would not let them play it the whole time. Still they were eager to ride with me. We listened to the CD about half-way but I kept it on low and while the music went on in the background, I began to try and carry some conversation. I asked E if he had ever free-styled, asked him what he found so appealing about the music and through these and other questions, the conversation spilled over into things deeper - glimpses of insecurity, resilience and limitations - and I realized that I had just won a new level of respect with this kid.
Then the busy-ness kept coming. Assisting at a health fair. A fashion show. A roller rink. I have also been trying to get more involved in monthly Teen Center Girl's nights that Alice has been hosting. This month, I got into planning mode with her and we had a small but engaged group join us to make art, watch movies about Media influence and discuss what it means to have inner confidence. These nights produce a delicate balance of fun and entertainment while also encouraging some deeper discussions to surface and I think over the next months, we can see that evolve more and more.
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| Waitressing gig for the Morton Fashion Show |
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| Don't we look professional? |
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| When was the last time YOU were in a bouncy house?! Highlight of the Health Fair. |
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| Also: most well-put children's book about childhood abuse ever. |
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| A night at the Roller-rink (and I got to get in a pair of blades!) |
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| My beautiful contour drawing of Alice for our Girl's Night Art Project : ) |
Multi-facited February...and there was more!
Through my assistance at the food bank, another big thing that I took on this month was a revival of the White Pass Backpack Program. The program is meant to act as a way to get food to students in need by sending them home with a backpack full of meal components for the weekend. One day after packing food, I got dragged into a reviewal food bank meeting. I ended up becoming a key component when a few members mentioned this Food Assistance Program that had been started with AmeriCorps a number of years ago and despite of its value, had abruptly stopped. There was consensus that everyone wanted it up and rolling again and the only piece that was missing was talking to the school...and making sure there was someone willing to continue it. So I took the role and a few weeks later was collaborating with school faculty and our Food Bank Director to order food and get out permission slips. It has been good to have another project that will bring me more into the school pool and I am excited to re-vamp it a little. One criticism that our superintendent had about the previous attempt was that a lot of junk was being sent home and we were not actually meeting meal requirements. And so with our collection of food, I asked for some bulk items like oats and rice and produce when available from the food bank fridge. I wrote up a "newsletter"of sorts called the Backpack Buddy which I intend to fill with recipes, nutrition about some of the contents of each pack, cooking tips and various health reads as called to. With the backpacks going out every other week, alternating with food bank weeks, I will hopefully have time to write one for each backpack weekend. If not, at least every other one.
As I began leaning more and more towards a second year here, I decided to start looking into the schools this month to see how I might want to be involved there more. Thus far, I've only seen the experience of working with the high school/Junior high and based on these accounts, the jury is definitely still out:
-High school shadowing: I followed Mary around to her classes for a full day and left exhausted, disgruntled and yet still feeling my need to be there more than ever. Most of her classes were math and I felt way under-qualified to dive in in any capacity. However, during one english class I couldn't take it anymore and broke out of my observation role to help a couple of students write poetry. The class was in shambles. They'd had a sub that day and both the sub and the kids had a mutual disdain for one another. And so, after 5 minutes of attempted sharing of their "5 sense poems" between shuffles and commentary and peer-pestering, Mrs Vessy was yelling at the class to "BE QUIET" and "Well, not how I wanted to spend this class but now all of you are just going to sit and write me twelve of those poems. Cause apparently you can't handle sharing." This did not go over much better and the two girls nearest to me kept chatting away. One of them was tossing out plenty of ideas and yet the pencil did not once touch the paper and so I rolled my chair over and began to facilitate some actual writing. I managed to get her to do two of the 12. Near the end of the class, it was obvious that most people would not finish and so instead, I decided to just ask her why the assignment seemed so difficult. She answered justly, that she had to feel inspired. And so I asked what inspired her and she said "the outdoors." Here, in a musty room of 20 or so rowdy, restless teens, I couldn't blame her for not wanting to write. In fact, I couldn't blame anyone. She, probably like most of the kids, was pitted bitterly against the sub, seeing her as nasty and disrespectful and the sub in turn saw them in the same light. It was a battle of stubborn egoism and uncompromising discipline. There was no understanding, no room or time for it. I saw this all throughout the day and I was split. I knew I would get endlessly frustrated being in a school like this and yet I knew that I had the potential to plant ideas of different educational models if I came to work in these classrooms, even if they were just the smallest grains of inspiration.
Junior High Dance: This was all kinds of flashback. The blinding drama of teen love. The insecure social awkwardness cloaked in complexes of confused egos. The crying. The giggles. The odd phenomenon of people coming to a function to sit or stand around in fear of what they actually came to do. It was brilliant. Highlights include: the couples that took half the night to even say hello and when they finally got to a slow dance, stood shoulder to shoulder with their buddies and talked girl to girl, guy to guy the entire song. B, one of the few always blissfully removed from the typical drama, seeing it all through only the eyes of a camera. The girl with heels that were an inch too big for her feet. Noticing the ratio of time spent on the dance floor to time spent in corners on cell phones. Realizing that I am not there and never have to be ever again.
Field Trips: Mary got me an in on going on any and all of the field trips for the rest of the year. I took the opportunity to hitch a ride to Seattle with 15 seniors for a visit to the newish Museum of History and Industry (MOHAI). This group had hardly any reason for a chaperone - a whole other experience from the rest of my school interactions. The trip was great except that we had far too short a time to peruse the 3-story building that explored everything from the first pioneers to the last to make history in the City of Seattle. I had to rush through most of it but I was glad that I opted to sit through a particular video that explained the Great Seattle Fire of 1889 that caused the city to have to be rebuilt. The event was documented musical style, assigning old artifacts as "singers" in the skit. Very Schoolhouse Rock style. I think they should make a whole feature musical covering all of the topics in the museum. Even with the short time, it seemed like most of the kids got something from it and found a favorite part, whether it be the maritime exhibit, the vast display of famous faces from seattle, the history of Microsoft, Seattle during the war, or dabbling with the interactive maps that show you where you would most fit in in the giant collection of neighborhoods. |
| Hobo code used during the Great Depression |
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| Neat sculpture built from old boats and left to weather's whim for years. Old fish oils stain it with color. |
Next week, I will be shadowing Mackensie in the elementary school to compare notes.
In February, I began to pump more into the day-to-day as well, keeping up with my "today in history" posts at Open Gym, bringing craft ideas along and engaging more in the basketball and football happenings of the evening. But my biggest focus of the month was the turn of a doubtful vision into a blossoming actualization....
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