Sweet Dirt, sweet day!

When I had the idea to ask Gretchen about a field trip to her Farm Sweet Dirt, I wasn't sure what kind of feedback to expect from the kids.

The turnout was made even more unpredictable by the fact that, due to the season nearing its end, we needed to do the trip soon. As in second-day-of-Open-Gym soon.

So the week before, we tried to get permission slips to some of the kids at school, tell parents and kids about it when we saw them and finally on Monday, beg kids to take them from Open Gym. I had low expectations and so when one Wednesday, we had five kids heading out the door with us from the Gym at 4pm, I was satisfied. Even more so when Derrick walked in with his son and daughter, ready to follow us down for the tour.

I couldn't have felt more elated about the experience. All the way there, my car was gabbing about their own adventures on dairy farms and I inquired about favorite fruits and veggies. Lou took a second car and followed behind for the quick 5-minute jaunt down the road. There had been a slight lapse in communication of timing so we actually had to wait for Gretchen to arrive but the kids were kept occupied by my camera, taking turns snapping photos. When Gretchen came up to the table with a big box and a bag of apples, they immediately unleashed questions. "What's in the box?? Are we going to eat apples? You have bees! Can we go see them??" Gretchen patiently filtered the inquisition and when there was a lull I asked "So, should we see what Gretchen has in store for us in the garden and ask some more question later?" Of course.

When the gates opened, the kids ran ahead, shouting out the names as they identified crops that captured their attention. Of course, all the leafy greens were "lettuce" but as we got more into the rows, they began to ask about the crops they didn't know, tasting fennel and dill and even nasturtium flowers. Gretchen let them harvest just about everything from carrots and potatoes to even a few peppers and Cukes.

The most excitement of course, came from the tasting and the hands-on, but Gretchen did show them her extensive seed library and I tried to rally their attention when she explained the cycle of Broccoli, emphasizing how one plant could keep itself going, first growing from Broccoli to flower and then producing seeds to plant for more Broccoli. They were also fairly awed when Gretchen shared that she put in over 50 hours of work every week and seemed to grasp how much she could feed herself from her own backyard. "you still have to go to the store for meat, right?"

"I actually go to another farmer for my meat" she explained as we gushed how cool a trade economy was. Her patience and flexibility with the hour-and-a-half trip was perfect. The younger ones got their simple "can we eat this" questions answered while Lydia and us adults had time to ask her more involved questions. At one point, Autumn exclaimed "this farm is huge! This is the most amazing farm ever!" Derrick turned to me with a grin "That. Was. So. Cool" he mouthed.

It was all. So. Cool.

We had a hard time rallying them up to go but eventually made it to the front where they got to take turns with the hose, rinsing off their bounty and getting it into little take-home bags. We sliced open some apples, with honey for dipping and I explained the Jewish New Year. Back to Open Gym in time for their snack, we did the same there, and "K" offered to slice up his Cuke for the whole bunch. As Derrick delivered his third huge "thank you", I knew it was deserved. The trip had been a surprising success.

------------------------------

I made a little write up for The Journal as well: 

The Packwood Open Gym kicked off with a great first week this year! On Wednesday the 24th, AmeriCorps members Lou Giller and Melissa Meiller took a group of kids for a portion of the afternoon and ventured out to Sweet Dirt Farm where Gretchen Fritsch gave a generous sampling of her garden bounty and taught the kids a little bit about the hard work involved in farming and the wonders of having a grocer in your backyard! The kids were loaded with questions and excitement. “This place is huge! This is the most amazing farm ever!” exclaimed Autumn. The trip ended with a sweet snack of apples and honey and thank you’s. Each kid left with a fresh bag of garden goodies, big smiles on their faces and hopefully some new inspiration for becoming future gardeners themselves!

The field trip was an introduction to what will hopefully be a string of events familiarizing the community with gardening and the Packwood Community Garden which was installed last year at the Cowlitz Ball Park off of Skate Creek road. The next anticipated event is planned to feature some fresh cooked dishes from Gretchen and other gardeners that attendees will be able to enjoy while learning about some of the projects and ways to get involved in the garden. For more information, please e-mail melissa.meiller@aol.com or call 734-904-5292.

School isn't about the school

"Pay attention. Pay close attention to everything, notice what no one else notices. then you'll know what no one else knows, and that's always useful." - 'City of Ember'

This, taken from the book we are reading in Mrs. Shook's 6th grade class. Deterred by the bigger picture surrounding me in the school system, I've found an enlightening second week within the smaller details. 

While the first week was a warm-up, leaving me wondering how I would possibly be useful, Mrs. Shook didn't hesitate for a moment to involve me in the nit and grit this time. On Tuesday, after their 15 minute morning math sheet time, I was asked to go over the answers with the kids on the board. I hadn't expected to have such an "honor" bestowed upon me and so hadn't even bothered to look at the sheet they'd been given. This resulted in a rather embarrassing series of blunders within one simple subtraction problem. Fortunately, Mrs. Shook creates a highly comfortable and trusting environment and I didn't for a minute feel like I'd failed her. The kids helped me through the problem (which I still did wrong and only found out when Mrs. Shook got up to show a different method) and she used me as a great behavioral example for how to handle mistakes and how proud she was of the way they helped out without making fun. The method she showed was one she explained she didn't even know until this year: a number line...for subtraction problems. When handed multiple decimal numbers to subtract, you gradually show it on a scale, rounding up to "friendly" numbers and carrying whatever you use until you get to the answer. It is very odd. 

Fortunately, my demonstration of adults getting by without the very math they were trying to learn did not deter Mrs. Shook from involving me, and as we continued with simple Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally equations/expressions (Parentheses, Multiplication, Division, Addition, Subtraction process) I began to recall my distant and brief fling with mathematics. That morning, Mrs. Shook had shown me a list of 6 "intensive" students she'd narrowed down for me to "track" and help in math. One of them - M - was struggling particularly that day with these equations and the "order of operations" and I spent a good 20 minutes sitting by her desk.  Within that time, I saw her go from apprehensive and dismissive with the work to determined and excited, as she started to grasp the order. By the end of our time, it was decidedly apparent that I was in her favor and she began to wave when I came into the room, tell me stories when we had a moment to talk and willingly ask for help. 

Cool moment number two occurred when during recess, one of the sweetest, hard-working boys in the class chose to stay in and work on the math he'd misunderstood on the last homework. He was also struggling with the order, getting numbers mixed up or trying to use them more then once when he was simplifying the equations. I drew out the process along side him, showing how I liked to use the little > sign dropping down from the combination I was working with to get a new, smaller equation below and then filling in between with the symbols outside the parentheses that I had not yet used. He struggled to apply this consistently but I could see the neurons firing. On our last problem, we ran into a simplified equation of "0-3" where he had written the answer "0". He didn't understand negatives. For the next few minutes, we focused solely on that, drawing number lines and explaining every which way until something clicked. He asked if I could write him another example (say, 6-10) and when he got it, he walked me through: so it's like 10-6 but then it's negative! Being the most considerate in class as well, he thanked me every step of the way and when it was time to get back with the rest of the class, offered to put my paper and pencil away. 

I felt so useful in the class that I'd missed recess duties, which I may have to adjust if that necessity keeps seeming priority. But it was also because I needed to talk to Mrs Shook about organizing their comprehensive test scores in a way that we could see the areas that needed most attention for the whole class. After getting lost in the maze of the copy machine and copying the wrong sides of things a dozen times, I was left with a stack of zeros - nines and columns and codes. No matter how I tried on paper and pen, I couldn't find a system that felt organized to me. So that night, I spent 4 hours tallying and categorizing and charting in three new documents. After nearly melting my brain, I was left with a readable overview of the biggest problem areas, the high-scoring outliers in some and an easy way of seeing the numbers of those I was tracking as well. 

The next morning, I went to Mrs. Shook's early and showed her the work to make sure it was understandable to her. She was thrilled. That morning I got the math sheet early and did it myself, prepared for any curveballs of the spotlight. Instead, she asked me to call on people to go up so I called on a couple of the students I'd been helping and tracking. "I", the boy I'd helped the day before, eagerly raised his hand and chose to do the very type of problem we'd been working on at recess. Without a single falter, he did it correctly, even name dropping "and then Melissa showed me how to..." as he walked through his steps. It was amazing to see. I called on "M" as well, who got her's right for the most part (J motioned for a second pair of "()" from his seat) and "S" who I was to be tracking but hadn't worked with yet. She reminded me a bit of my young self, stubborn and shut down when she made a mistake. She happened to get her table wrong and slumped back to her seat, hiding her face. Mrs. Shook used my mistake from Tuesday to show that it was okay to make mistakes and also gave a monologue about how she wanted everyone to let her know if at any point they felt they were being made fun of for their mistakes. I then went over to help her which was perfect because I'd misunderstood the problem as well and had to make corrections. This seemed to make her feel a bit better and we worked through it together. Later that day when I helped her correct another problem, she more easily accepted her mistake and simply explained how she'd read a number wrong. Way cool. 

Within a screwy system, this class is a beautiful anomaly. Mrs. Shook encourages behavior and an environment that just showers in self esteem and safety to express. And I get a little of the shower as well. One girl handed me a few compliments on my style throughout the day, at the class meeting compliment circle, I was given high praise from "I" on my help the other day and even the smallest details of a wave goodbye or hello when I had to sneak in or out of the classroom was a huge affirmation to the influence of my assistance there. During literacy, I was writing their contributions to the definition of "ominous" on the board and they all complimented my good handwriting. I've quickly gone from feeling out of place to feeling like I can freely contribute input and insight. 

Being in the 3rd grade "behavior class" is a different story that I am still perplexedly trying to navigate when it comes to how I can influence some positive change. It is the teacher's first year and she is rather apparently at a loss for her handful of chaos sometimes. There, it is easy to hate the system because disciplinary is the approach that is most accessible to her. But perhaps if I "Pay attention. Pay close attention to everything, notice what no one else notices..." I will find some small wins with those kids as well. 

Welcome back to Open Gym!

"Not that I didn't notice when I walked in, but really nice work with the gym."

It was halfway through the first Open Gym of the year and the compliment only intensified the sweeping sensation of satisfaction and contentment. There was no guise, no worn drawl in my presence (as would be expected come the weary middle of the year). Even amidst the tiffs and fumbles (including my first commemorative iPhone screen-cracking experience) I finally felt unquestionably in synch with where I was supposed to be.

As an over thinker, I'm not a good anticipator. I do it too much, going against all of the newfangled studies cautioning us to silence our brain's worry wart (oh habit, you stubborn thing). In retrospect, the fluster of the weeks before had much to do with work that was associated with preparing for things to be anticipated, things yet to unfold. It is not necessarily the work itself; I like having a lot to do. No, it's the waiting for the results of my work. Patience (there's that Habit word, again).

Once the Gym started and I could see the results of my work, the sense of meaning and purpose fell into place. Even as it will take some time for the kids to warm up to efforts and ideas I have, every little acknowledgement is a small win (and those slowly change the habit or nature of a place or situation).

So where were all my crazy chaotic hours going up to this point?

With the much-appreciated help of Kerissa and Matt, we tackled a bulk of the "visual vibe". I put in a few long afternoons cleaning and moving "useless shit" (the official outside-of-gym-time title) out of the way. Kerissa and Matt helped prepare what is slowly heading towards a spacious study/quiet area and Kerissa created some stunning, artful calendars for our first three months, where we will be marking all events, holidays and each kid's birthday (I foresee a lot of cake-making this year!) We made new 'art wall',  'announcement' and 'faces of Open Gym' space on the wall where I will finally be hanging the kids' pictures (bringing my printer up this year was the best idea ever) along with "This year, I want to work on..." statement pieces that a surprising amount willingly filled out that first night. We attempted to paint the sign-in table with a mysterious enamel we had which turned out to be oil-based and leaving an unsettling texture. But it still looks better than the stained underbelly it is now disguising. On it, I filled the space with hand-outs, sign-ups and a stack of new, giant cups which the kids will name-tag and use through the year, saving on the expense of those horrible plastic ones (and saving on litter outside).

At 3:28, I even wanted to open the doors early. I was surprised to peak outside and see that J and S had been sitting quietly on the steps; due to the lack of pounding on the doors, I hadn't even known anyone was there yet (doubt that will keep up, but we can hope). When the kids came in, there wasn't any of the normal sparring for the sign-in sheet. In fact, they seemed kind of bewildered, trying to remember what to do and where to put their things. In contrast to this day the year before, I was exactly the opposite.

While the book club and garden ventures weren't that successful in garnering attention, some of the kids took to the little goal sheets I had laying out in an array of colors. One of our previously unruly kiddos not only accepted a photo snap with his buddy but also took serious consideration in filling out the form. "I don't know..." he said at first, sincerely. But as he thought, a light bulb went off. "This year, I want to work on...getting a job", he completed. Others I got were "drawing, snowboarding, winning a bike race, math...and finally "arguing" from my favorite little trouble maker. I was so assumptive of his stubbornness that at first, I assumed he meant he wanted to work on arguing more. A few minutes later after I had offered an employing reaction, I realized he meant he wanted to learn to argue less. I felt bad and went to clarify and apologize. Matt and Kerissa had been fairly jarred by his attitude that night, understandably. But even with some inevitable, unacceptable behavior arising from him, I could tell he was even slightly more aware of his behavior and actions than the year before. The looks I tend to get from him now are not ones of judgment, but ones that almost beg that I keep pushing him and challenging his behavior. Even with the little kiddos, growing less drastically in attitude within the few months of summer, were taller, more stable in their presence, animated with a glow and confidence of growth in their faces.

My secretly healthy pumpkin cookies were a huge success with the kids as well, but of the whole night, there were still two big "work in progress areas." First, the idea to integrate a cooperative game in after snack time did not pan out very smoothly the first night. We began with "rock paper scissors chain". The game starts with everyone going against one other person at random, but if you win, you form a chain behind your former "opponent" and become a cheer leader for them, chanting their name as you go off to find another growing chain. In the end of course, everyone is on the same team as one long train. It was a frantic scramble but most kids sort of hodge-podgedly participated. However, the metaphor for cooperation and being a team fell pretty quietly onto the floor under the commotion. It was supposedly a build up to the next thing: a webbing loop activity in which every other person leans in while holding the webbing in a circle while the others lean out. If you apply the whole "working as a team thing, everyone stays balanced and upright. If you're an Open Gym kid, it becomes a tug of war game, a yelling match, and finally a chant for "more four-square.

I'm not giving up on the game idea, though. Rusty start, s'all.

The other thing of course, was four-square. Chaos as usual, Kerissa and I had different approaches in mind and a lapse in communication, after the kids failed to abide by the new rule in place: you cuss, put down, get nasty? You're out also. We were able to have a good discussion about it after we closed that night and on Monday, the kids will be making a rule list similar to last year's bowling list before being allowed to play again. In addition to Kerissa and Matt, Lou, Ainsley and Erika came down from Cispus and joined in the fun and afterwards, four of us went out to the Spruce where we got time to debrief further and reminisce about the first week in schools and our ideas for things to come.

What a week

The other day, my lovely friend and former AmeriSister Mary posited a question to the interwebs: "Perfectly acceptable to be going to bed at 730 right??"

Yes, Mary, YES. 

It is officially the end of Week One: non-orientation AmeriWork, and the biggest difference compared to this point last year? HOURS. 

Fearing my complete lack of qualification for being in an academic setting, I opted not to have any designated school days last year. With Open Gym not starting until three weeks after everyone else is already learning the names of students and jostling busy schedules, most of my hours were clocked at the Butter Butte, drinking coffee, blogging, writing letters and gleefully declaring my AmeriCorps title to any local that asked why I was bumming around Packwood, not knowing what that title would yet entail. 

Sure, I came to have my work cut out for me and there were definitely days of juggling. But the first time is always trial and error and having seen the gym and what I could do during my free time, I worked up quite a list of ideas to occupy my pre-gym time for this year to come. 

I also found it disconnecting to be removed from the school scene. So after shadowing a bit last year, I decided that I wanted a day or two in the elementary school. 

Have I mentioned that I tend to create overwhelmingly ambitious lists of projects for myself? 

When it's just me, no completion, no sweat. Frustrating, but I'll come back to it at another chapter. 

But when I'm building on a community, the expectation becomes real whether or not they demand it. My own promises on projects become weightier when they're for Packwood. 

Here's the buckle; when I made this list, started this community garden, and let my imagination run wild, I was not in school. How the kids manage to wake up at 6, go to school each day and then have after school sports until who-knows-when at night is inspiring, if not befuddling. I'm trying to keep up. 

At the beginning of the week, I sort of lulled into Open Gym preparation, making some signs at home and re-thinking lists. Then on Tuesday, that got put on hold while I had my first full day at school!

White Pass higher-ups received a staff makeover this year, introducing a new principle and superintendent. So far, the elementary principle has been 1,000 times more approachable and accepting of ideas than the person I struggled to communicate with the year before. Flexible and full of that fresh-blood enthusiasm, coordinating a schedule that worked for both of us was far easier than it seemed to have been for Mackensie the year before and unlike the sense of alienation between school and AmeriCorps, he eagerly spoke of how integrated and included he wants us to be. 

So after checking in with him on Tuesday morning and making a few schedule tweaks, I made my way to the end of the hall to survey the three 5/6 teachers and find out where I could be most useful. To my delight after talking with a self-sufficient Mrs. K, I was directed across the hall where she knew Mrs. S was desperate for aid. I'd already promised myself to her class during their literacy hour but she'd immediately struck me as a teacher I could respect and be inspired by so I was more than happy to give her extra time. Sure enough, her face lit up when I peaked in and asked if she'd like me there in the morning. "OHhh YEAH!" she exclaimed in her deepish, ready-to-roll voice. My direct involvement with the kids would be slim for the first week while things pick up the pace, she explained. But she reassured me that my added value to the classroom would become more apparent. So that day, she familiarized me with her class, showing me failing math grades and explaining the comprehensive growth evaluation testing that they were (impressively quietly) taking that week. A big focus would be showing improvement and getting them up to grade level. I guess I would be brushing up on my grade school math skills. And tracking students for tutoring after all, an added task I'd thought to avoid. 

A couple of my kids from Open Gym tried to engage in conversation every so often, thrilled by the sight of a familiar face. I was sitting near J, reading over some of the class material. He'd finished his test and was now reading a book on sharks. "Melissa!!" he'd whisper "look at this!" and he would show me pictures of giant hammerheads, or the inside of a shark's stomach and brain, reading the description and chiming "Wow! I never knew that before!" I aimed for a balance of curiosity - he was learning and sharing new information was after all, the way to learn - but it was also quiet testing time. Still, J was a kid that always surprised me by his interest in learning when, at open gym, it was mostly basketball and shooting games. I was beginning to appreciate seeing more dynamic sides of the student's lives. 

I left Mrs. S' class for the morning recess block - a lightning round 15-minute rotation amongst three age/class groups - which seemed to fly by. I found myself mainly posted up near the four-square court, knowing full well the potential for intervention, especially with the older kids. Last year, it had been discussed that I could do some activities at recess to promote better behavior, but on day one I was still observing, pondering how I could possibly integrate that into this recess system. 

Back to the classroom of Mrs. S, she began their literacy hour with a daily class meeting which she used as the forum for topics of discussion such as self-responsibility etc. But regardless of topic, the daily staple was the 'Compliment Circle'. One by one, each student (and myself) was asked to give a compliment to the person two-over from their seat. Once we went around once, the kids were hooked on complimenting. J asked if we could go around and do every person. While Mrs. S was admirably denying the request for lack of time, "I" sitting to my right asked: "Did you go to college?” 

“I did” I said

“How many years” 

“Four” 

“Holy s!” (I'm pretty sure he almost swore) 

“I went to art school” 

“I like art a lot” 

Before we moved on, he'd raised his hand to ask if he could give out one more compliment. “Thank you Melissa for coming to our class and helping us with stuff and showing us ways to be respectful” (based on a compliment I'd given.) 

My period after lunch had yet to be filled so I stopped by the last 6th grade teacher - Mr. M - to see if he thought I could be helpful during that time. He had just finished reading the criteria for a fire hall poster contest promoting Smoke detectors and the kids were getting their paper, the instructions still up on the board. I stood in the back, catching him throwing bemused glances my way as kids came out with questions like “Can I draw something that already happened…like when those planes crashed into those two buildings?” (to which he attempted to kindly state that he was pretty sure they had bigger problems than smoke detectors at that point) and "which is the front?" when they'd been faced with a paper that was identical on either side. Once they'd gotten to work, he came and checked in with me, wholeheartedly welcoming the help that hour. Normally it would be math. Goodie. 

My final class that day had quickly come to be known by the staff as the "behavior class." I had been asked to primarily help a student in there who was very ADHD but once I observed a period, it became apparent that I would probably be assisting the overall group. Granted they were third grade, but they were a handful. During quiet drawing time, I was speaking with the teacher when we suddenly heard sobbing. That particular student had stopped drawing and was spontaneously mourning his deceased dog, which set his drawing buddy off on a story about her Grandma's death and her mom's health scare. The teacher refrained it from being a sharing circle and since they wouldn't be able to talk about it any longer, I suggested he draw a picture of his dog to share later; that maybe drawing your loved ones would be a nice way to think about them. 

By the time I was going home, I was exhausted and unsure what I'd gotten myself into. I had a mental list of disagreements with the school system and a host of intimidating thoughts of how I would possibly end up being helpful. But thinking back to my first ever Open Gym, I withheld the judgment. I'd been terrified of being able to connect then and here I was coming back a year later. 

Wednesday was much easier. I came to the school ready for anything, knowing I'd be leaving at lunch time on those days. In the morning, Kerissa and I helped pack bags at the food bank and got a new stock of snacks for the gym. I got to school for recess time and found myself to be more than just a set of eyes and ears. One of our more emotional kids A, had a breakdown at four square and I spent his session talking, impressed that I was able to get him to stop crying and construct full-sentence responses in a semi-conversation. The next group lured me over to the hanging rings to spot and cheer on the kids and for the older group, I was back at four square.

Reality hit that our opening day for the gym was quickly approaching and I was once again creating my own little construct of time in which I act like it doesn't really catch up to you...until it does. So once I got back to Packwood, I spent the next few hours in the gym re-organizing and moving shelving, putting up signs and finding more and more to add to my to-do list. 

On Thursday, I had my first shift at the thrift store since being back and immediately landed the item I'd been wishing for: a food processor. A good ol' quality one at that, all attachments included. I stocked up on some halloween supplies for the gym and mostly managed to avoid clothes browsing because of the non-stop influx of items that kept our table jam-packed of things to label. Afterwards, I stopped by the senior center. A kind woman at the church the other day had given me a ride home and, after a very nice and surprisingly lengthy conversation about senior center gossip (everything has gossip in this town!), told me I should stop by on Thursday afternoons for...Mah Jongg! Playing on occasion with my mom and friends back home, I was pretty giddy about the idea. Understandibly, I got there to find out they play the chinese version which is sans the cards that list various sets and patterns you are allowed to make with your tiles for a win or "mah jongg". In this version, you simply need four sets of three and a pair. The woman teaching loved it with fervor and was a bit over-eager to assist in moves so I was pleased when she had to step in and play a round herself. She informed me of groups in town that play for money but I will probably just stick to hanging with the oldies. 

After a few rounds, I left to meet Kerissa at the gym to finish up some final touches, check out paint colors for a closet-turned study project I've been determined to complete, and paint the sign in table. After some ups and downs in our communication, it was nice to work smoothly alongside one another and also get so much checked off the list for Open Gym. Afterwards, she joined me for a yoga class. Perfect way to end the day. 

Finally, after a week of moving faster than my mind, the weekend arrived...and along with it, more work. Although I'd been trained in Low Ropes challenge course facilitation, I opted to join at least a part of the training weekend to get a refresher and be part of that team experience. I headed out on Friday morning and although I was leaving by Saturday evening to get back for Karaoke, I was glad I'd gone. Similar to last year, I found myself reflecting on a lot of thoughts of the ego and by the time I left I was needing a pause from the constant interaction of others' influences. But after being so on-the-go, it was nice to have the forum for deeper thought. And of course, it wasn't the same as last year because no one group is ever the same. This year, AJ was in charge of the training and constructed the day in such a way that we were able to see every element in the woods and really explore how each one functioned, something that we'd not had time for the year before. As a returnee, it was also interesting to watch the group slowly start to realize the limitations (or lack thereof) how an element can be used or framed; its fun to watch boxes break.

Keeping me on my toes until the very end, Karaoke had its own host of twists with all the tech-savvys away and the wires plugged in every which-not-to-be way. Karl didn't arrive until 11 to save the night and even then, the Mic shorted out every few songs. Then today I headed to the Packwood Community Picnic where I'd been assigned bouncy house duty. Imagining a shaded chair and a couple shout-out reminders to take things out of pockets and watch out for other's bodies, I figured a quiet day ahead. Instead, the photographer for the event didn't show and so I was recruited for more active duty. It was overly delightful to see all the kids and families I hadn't yet seen and connect further with the once I had but the whether had overextended its generosity for remaining nice for the event and the sun was boiling everyone alive all day. After a full three hours in the heat and another two wrapping up a last handful of Open Gym tweaks, I was exhausted. 

Admittedly, I've had a couple break downs here and there. They aren't for lack of enjoyment - I love the interactions that I have been having amidst all of this work - and they aren't for loneliness. They aren't even for things that I miss. I think that they are just for lack of being able to process them. There my not be time for a good chunk of writing or a deep, meaningful conversation but inevitably, there is time for a good cry. 

And I know it will balance. It always does, for some period of time or another. There is always change. As hectic as preparing for open gym has been, when I finally thought about it opening tomorrow, a wave of excitement hit me. And sometimes, if you only have time to process a fleeting sensation, that's enough to know you are where you're supposed to be. 

AmeriYear II: Two weeks in

(because this took a lot longer than planned, here is the first two weeks in vague mode. But now I'm all caught up! So thats cool.) 

Left to right, Top to bottom: Jeremy (TN), Ariella (OR), Kerissa (OH), Erika (WA), Lou (IL), Matt (KY), Mellisa (OR), Ainsley (NJ), me, Cassie (OH) and Katy (PA) 

"Good morning AmeriFamily!" On September 2nd, I rode into Cispus with Matt and Kerissa feeling like I was about to meet new in-laws. Everyone seemed equally excited, nervous and hopeful for building that sort of family bond and now 2 weeks in, I can say that while there have been ups and downs and adjustments, being in AmeriCorps has once again proven to build something that runs far deeper than a team or a work force.

In our first day alone, we managed to evolve a good repitoir of inside jokes, many revolving around hair and hairy things. But there was the serious and sentimental as well. Finishing our introduction to the Cispus Learning center at the end of the week, Vince facilitated us through the challenge course and had us all partake in a new element in which he integrated a "Beauty Circle" and had us each take turns getting in the middle to hear what each other team member noticed about the beauty we brought to the world. It was a powerful (and teary) experience which further helped to thrust us into that bond and empower our strengths (Lou and Jeremy's comments for me still continue to be pieces for reflection.)

But more pivotal than our scheduled time together has been the time we make for one another. There have already been two surprising occasions of people coming to Packwood to get together, a rarity in the past. While coordinating with 10 other people has proven difficult for some of the activities that would be fun to get more people in on, I've still been able to build nice relationships with a few people on one-on-one outings. Ariella and I have now ventured Olympia and hiked together and Cassie and I made it out to Naches Loop/Tipsoo lake hike just yesterday. And after our thrilling AmeriLaunch on Friday, we took trips to the farmer's market and co-ops, just one of the few examples of how much more like-minded this group seems to be in many ways.

In the beginning of this second year, I am still so grateful and sometimes overwhelmed by the multifaceted quality of this job. Because it is so much more. AmeriCorps has been both a job and a family. It has allowed me to educate and also to learn and grow so much in myself. It has given me the opportunity to build and be a part of multiple communities at once and expanded my sense of home. It has allowed me to learn more independence while employing me to learn how to ask for the help that is needed and necessary.

It is not all easy. Especially starting a second year, there are new dynamics to get used to, expectations to erase and new mazes of communication to navigate, different people with a whole different set of beliefs. But it is very, very real. And very very worth it.

Belting out some Karaoke at the Tall Timber after the first high school game!

A Visit to Iron Creek Falls

20th Anniversary AmeriLaunch in Olympia

Packwood party!

Rippin up the Teen Center carpet!

A four layer cake...of work, work, work!

Hi ho, Hi ho

it's off to work we go!

Dad and Jordan hung around for the relaxing days before the weekend of the flea market and we ventured to Paradise for a nice hike before they fled, just in time to escape chaos.

Anyone living in Packwood who is insane enough to tolerate it knows that Flea Market weekend is the weekend to work. The prospect of putting in 42 hours in three days is probably supposed to seem daunting to someone with a healthy balance of work ethic and relaxation but to me I didn't think twice...let alone once. After a week of being on the road, I'd left time to have a glorious kick-off dinner with my dad, brother and new neighbor teammates, play games and venture to paradise in Ranier but absolutely no time for settling in before plunging into the work weekend. 

The mental and physical shift one makes is akin to wilderness survival - your self shifts and makes what you thought were impossibly drastic adaptations just to get you through. Friday through Sunday, I worked my three different jobs from 8am unil 2am with about a 2-hour break back home. 

With any long work weekend, there are bound to be unsavory situations. On Saturday for instance, everyone at Karaoke decided to give me hell and a half. For the most part however, beautiful social interactions quelled any overwhelming exhaustion that may have otherwise set in; as a returning help to the vendors at the Library, there were plenty of warm hugs and fond smiles from artists who I'd gotten to know (and buy things from) the year before; my co-workers and I kept one another laughing and easy-going at the coffee shop; familiar faces of tourists became weekend conversation staples when they came in to get their drink; even karaoke had more perks than expected, with an impassioned pair of girls singing and tipping me all the way through the first night. 

I managed not to splurge nearly as much as the year before but nevertheless came away with more than I expected: a sweater, a backpack, a lantern, gloves, soap and one of Jaenette's flax hot/cold packs after using the one I gifted to my dad excessively when I was back home. 

My house was a mess the entire weekend, my car still not even completely unpacked. But it hardly mattered because I was hardly home. I was completely immersed in the social aspect of life, meeting new vendors, discovering friends at Karaoke, seeing Open Gym kiddos pop up around town and running into old AmeriCorps members. 

It was hard to come down from the flight of the social butterfly. On Monday, after finishing my last shift at the Butter Butte, I began my trek home when I was distracted by a couple of PCT hikers I'd seen walking around earlier that day looking somewhat dazed. Now having the time to spare, I asked where they'd started and we entered a lengthy conversation outside of the grocery store. It wasn't but a few seconds after parting ways that I found myself racing back into the store to hunt down Brent for a phone number exchange. Through one conversation, it had seemed silly at first - would he even have a phone? - but I'd never actually talked to anyone hiking through before and the connection seemed to valuable to let slide away. Fortunately, phone-having and not weirded out, we swapped numbers and shortly after I returned home, I got a text inviting me to come hang out with him and his fellow trail buddies who'd split on a room for the night. Opportunity overtook exhaustion once again and settling in was put off a little longer. After a lovely few hours of hearing trail stories, sharing in our midwest/east roots, and finding a surprising amount in common in regards to stability/freedom in our lives, I made it home with just enough time for a decent sleep before my next work would begin...AmeriYear II

Pretty nifty side of the mountain

My lovely dancing friend Ibrahim coin' his thing

The Sibling Saga

"I don't believe an accident of birth makes people sisters or brothers. It makes them siblings, gives them mutuality of parentage. Sisterhood and brotherhood is a condition people have to work at." - Maya Angelou

I think of myself as very fortunate to have come to this realization as early as I did, and still often wish it had been earlier. For those who don't know him well, my brother is pretty amazing. His thirst for knowledge and his passion for the structure of words far surpasses anyone else in our family, when it comes to that form of intelligence. And his ability to will himself into quiet observation when it comes to conflict used to be a thing of envy to me. I cannot remember the exact moment that he became an individual of his own inspiration and  not just an "accident" of a shared birth, but I often reflect on the division between those two ways of relating in our lives and only hope that the journey to come makes up for time taken for granted. 

So when there was little hesitation to agree to join me on my drive back West after summer break, I was beyond honored. 

On August 20th, with little pretense for either of us really to discuss, Jordan and I launched into our first trip together - siblings unite - across the country. Both of us seem to have a similar process when it comes to registering experiences on a tangible level. While my mother likes to pre-brief, de-brief and gnaw at every moment not yet unfolded, the two of us don’t really have a method of connecting to experiences that haven’t happened - that aren't present - in any way we find useful; we just go with it. 

However, for this trip, I think I diverged from that a little bit since I had to make an effort to quell my anticipation of what a one-on-one week could bring. Jordan's astute academic intellect easily and frequently fools my perception of his maturity. I tended to forget that his emotional and more complex forms of intuition and intellect are still in the early stages of growing. With those qualities being a more prominent thematic focus for my journey, I knew that my fascination and eagerness to ignite those sorts of conversations would have to be thoroughly mediated so that he would not be completely resenting me by the time we made the 4,000 mile trek. 

Of course, I was not going to deny myself completely of what I found important. I still wondered: could I access some level of emotional vulnerability that was never allowed stage time in our fragmented passings at home? Would I have the guts to “stay” in uncomfortable questions? to find a balance with them that allowed him to feel comfortable? 

Premeditating on these possibilities certainly helped me to keep a balance. Never for a minute did I think that it would be like the movies - my inspirational wanderlust sweeping all of his preconceived reservations about adventure into the wind and emerging on the West Coast forever a changed person, fearless and ready to roam - because there is no was in hell that was going to happen. 

No, by cultivating an awareness to our different approaches, I was able to allow myself moments of just observing, listening and feeling what he was going through. Some situations in the past have called for push and shove, getting him out to go do something despite his adversity. But his being thrust into this trip was push enough and I simply wanted to navigate each day in a way he could feel most comfortable and at ease with. I’ve had this trip with it’s wanderlust approach. I’ve had my opportunities to bask in the mountain’s cradling and let inspiration be blown onto pages from wind that wisps my hair in time with river currents as I sit off highway roads and take my time. This was a different trip and it wasn't a bad one. We had some invaluable bonding time and I wouldn't have traded it for anything (I can't speak for him of course). Those are ours to keep and so I leave that space blank here. 

Besides boldly taking to the wheel a couple of times (first time handling winding mountain highway!) one of Jordan's biggest contributions was our in-car entertainment. Main features included Justin Vernon and his many brain children i.e various projects, a british radio series called Cabin Pressure, a quirky dark comedy radio show called Night Vale and radio episodes of Cracked, which I never knew was a thing. And of course there was plenty of new music to be introduced to. 

Day 1
Landed us in Ames, IA where my amazing friend Matt hosted us for the night. It was a far different experience from my first time visiting his home state, back when he lived in Fort Dodge. In contrast to the run down, disparate atmosphere of Fort Dodge, Ames seemed to be kicking' with fun local haunts, music and a vibrant, young community. Matt excitedly talked about the spurt of locally sourced, small businessy eateries and bars that had popped up in recent years, one of which - a fun food cart - he'd recently started working at where he gets to dress up however he wants (the majority of the clientele being drunk college kids who probably won't even remember what he's wearing). Jordan and I had a pseudo-picnic made up of leftovers and co-op fare while waiting for him to get off of work and visited with him back at the house before Jordan settled in for some down time and Matt and I took off to meet his friend Emily for some drinks. The next morning, he took me to his favorite coffee spot, a small basement venue called Vinyl Coffee where they collected and sold old records and sold a unique offering of home-baked goods, brought in from the owner's home kitchen each morning. 

That was the beginning to...

Day 2
Which quickly turned grey and wet. Jordan began the drive which I immediately felt bad about as we entered the highway with wipers waving as fast as they could go, rain beating down so hard it was pointless to try and listen to any entertainment over the din. Aiming to camp somewhere near the Badlands that night, we drove and drove and drove some more. Needing a stretch break anyhow, I encouraged a stop to the locale of the Corn Palace which sparked very little enthusiasm. Admittedly, I didn't have it in me to stay around long once we'd gotten out of the car either. The temperature had risen far above 90 and the streets were un-navigable due to a carnival which would have been fun except that the rides and such were not running so early in the day; probably more of an evening event. We came, we saw, we conquered. We got outta there. Jordan got us through the las painful stretch of driving while I tried to find campgrounds that we could reach before sundown. We opted on a small KOA about an hour out of the Badlands. I hadn't camped at a KOA in forever and it was certainly a more pampered experience than I'd expected. The grounds had a pool, a laundry room, very "trimmed" sites, a restaurant of sorts, and a game room equipped with a pool table. We set up camp, cooked some dinner and ended the night with a couple games of pool. 

The weather was so mild that I'd been tempted to leave off our covers but just before bed, we looked up the weather and there was the chance of a storm. It was a good choice to cover up because, about 11pm, the downpour hit pretty full force. By morning, things had settled but the sky remained pretty overcast for...

Day 3
as we drove through the Badlands. We didn't really stop, since our agreed-upon destination had been Wind Caves. We drove mostly in silence, taking in the overpowering vastness of it all. We reached wind caves by mid-afternoon and snagged tickets for a 3pm 'Fairgrounds' tour - the same one Mother and I had done on our visit. I have yet to be disappointed by a national park guide. Our particular guide was a retired navy officer who, well over 60, had just finished school in environmental studies of some sort and had participated in lectures associated with...NASA? when I asked how he'd landed in this gig, he said it was the first place that had called him. He'd only been there since May. I had been under the impression that one had to have a particular focus to land a gig as a park guide but apparently not. Their training of the ecology must be pretty in depth though, because he knew his stuff. I enjoyed his analogy of the cave, offering up a mental image of a bowl of Ramen noodles to describe the tunnel system of Windcave - the most complex cave system in the world, squeezed into one square mile. Jordan quickly came to the realization that his feelings about being confined under hundreds of feet of earth in the dark damp cold had changed since he was last in a cave as a kid and I think was pretty relieved when we finally emerged. We called it an early evening at camp and took some time to ourselves to read in our tent. The weather wasn't terrible but it was windy enough to just want to huddle up in tents. When I finally came out to get ready for bed, he was already asleep. 

Day 4
We awoke to wet tents once again, having received an equally strong storm once again. I've been thoroughly impressed with the tent I have, as it's been the first one to not leak at all when faced with water. We were able to pack up the tents pretty immediately and after wiping off the covers with towels and shaking them out, we put them in bags to transport to our next destination. We were bound for Bozeman where a friend that I stayed with when she lived there a couple years ago had connected us with one of her gracious friends to post us up for the night. After two nights of stormy camping, I think we were both a bit relieved for some shelter. Recalling my breathtaking introduction to "Big Sky Country", I was pretty bummed that Montana was undergoing a state-wide gray day and Jordan couldn't be privy to the incredible display of rolling clouds and mountain horizons that had immediately won me over when I first drove through. 

Margaret warmly welcomed us with hugs and urged us to make ourselves at home and then we headed out to the co-op - the best solution for different taste pallets - where I treated her to dinner. Originally from Ann Arbor, Margaret had met my other Ann Arbor friend only after moving out that way. I swear that the entire state of MI will have eventually evacuated to the west; I run into Michiganders all the time out here. We had pleasant conversation and came back home where we each seemed to be inclined to have our own space so there wasn't too much pressure to make ourselves social. 

Day 5
Margaret felt bad that she didn't have a lot of breakfast options for me but I was just grateful for a real bed to sleep in. I had been interested in checking out a breakfast nook in town anyhow and finally having a real meal. We were up early and after saying our farewells, we rushed down to The Nova Cafe since she warned us that they tend to get crazy-packed for breakfast. We arrived just in time because by the time our food came, the lobby was packed and almost out the door. The last time I'd been there, Nova had been a simple coffee shop. Our table was placed where I remembered their counters for the coffee used to be and they'd completely renovated and expanded into the next building over. It was amazing what they'd done to the place. The lighting was bright and warm compared to the darkened atmosphere from before and their menu was brilliantly creative. I was happy to see Jordan actually enjoying the menu, torn between several options. The food was filling a sustained us for our full day of driving. 

Which was good, because we didn't really have much more relaxed down time. Up to Bozeman, we knew we'd have places to stay. But this day, we weren't really sure how far we could make it or what connections we could find. I let Jordan take the wheel while I made shootouts for both Spokane and Kennewick connections. I found an acquaintance willing to host us in Spokane, but emphasized to Jordan that it would be a crowded living situation with people I didn't know that well. When we reached Spokane, I ran into their co-op and asked him to sit quietly with the options of staying with people in Kennewick or splurging on a hotel where we were at and just ending our driving for the day. He opted for the hotel. I was glad I'd let him take control of the decision and quickly eased into the idea of having a full afternoon to relax. A day to unwind was much-needed. The hotel that we found was an unassuming option and if we'd just done a drive-by, I doubt we would have ended up there. The Ruby Hotel and Lounge was located in a vibrant red mod building with artwork of scantily clad female figures and bright neon light donning the street-side bar. The lobby was a small nook right outside of the lounge and the rooms were tucked back in a run-down looking parking lot. However, the experience was probably one of the best hotel experiences I've had. The staff were professional, hospitable and we were charged a decent price (which Jordan treated) for a full double-bed room with fridge and all the amenities etc. It was in walking distance from the main downtown mall and a restaurant I'd found for dinner so we went to go see an afternoon showing of Calvary at the mall. Navigating that place was a source of mild humor for the both of us and the movie was an agreed-upon win. We walked from there to the Saranac Public House. On the way, we discussed the meaning behind the movie and the film quality  and then enjoyed another successful meal for the both of us - rich mac and cheese and a burger for him and ginger rice stir fry for me. We had an animated conversation about language and he seemed to loosen up into taking in the surroundings, getting curious about an old building across the street from us (which we finally concluded said Longbotham a friendly debate between three possibilities). He seemed in good cheer on the way back and we made little remarks about the city’s design (like the unfunctional Postal recepticals and the phone-scan maps on the sidewalk). And then back at the room, I took a shower while he fell into his own space with the computer, I to follow. Then we quietly got ready for bed and called it a night. 

Day 6

I was up early and went out to hunt down real coffee, where I also found a rich-looking Cinnamon roll that looked too good not to get for Jordan. I sat in the breakfast area at the hotel - simply the bar whose counter had been converted to present a line-up of breakfast options - and waited for Jordan to emerge. We were on the road Portland-bound that day where we'd meet up with Tony for one last road night before meeting my dad in Seattle the next day. We were supposed to meet Tony at a place for dinner but Mondays proved to be the off-day for many businesses and we had to adjust a few times before settling on the Hedge House with simple deli fare. He and Tony seemed to hit it off, Tony's positive attitude always being magically infectious. We walked a bit to digest after dinner and then headed over to Salt and Straw which has apparently become my must Portland experience, especially since they now have the crazy amazing coconut ice cream decadency on the regular. Back at Tony's we meandered out to the river where Jordan pulled out his camera and experimented with night light play, getting some pretty neat shots. 

Day 7

Tony had to be up for work early and so we'd said our good byes the night before. Our last stretch of road to Seattle was our shortest driving day but I think I was just at my road weary limit because it was painful to get through. I was feeling pretty tightly wound up in stress when we arrived and I couldn't get a hold of Dusty and so we had to find a way to bide our time. Jordan couldn't really contribute excitement towards any ideas I threw out so we finally just headed to Pike's place where I think he at least got a kick out of some of the buskers. Around 3pm, we got a hold of Dusty and we spent a few hours on the waterfront catching up before heading to Capitol Hill for a fancy dinner. Dusty was excited to learn they served Poutine there which he had recently been told to try. Unfortunately, it was not all it was cracked up to be...

After dinner, he walked us down to the new Library, gushing the whole way about its amazingness. I was completely along for the ride but had no idea the scope of which this library covered the territory of AMAZING. architecturally, it was like nothing I'd ever been in before. The building itself slanted like a crouching being with crazy criss-cross glass panels. Each of the 7 or so floors was a different design, from the bottom with wood-etched phrases in the floor, to the dewy decimal book spiral to the red floor (literally a floor of RED) and finally to the top where you could look down (hight fearers be damned) to the mixed media floor with a forest themed patterning. All of this was connected by a series of blindingly bright chartreuse escalators. We picked up a newspaper on the way out which lay out the inspiring story of the artist and described in detail the innovations in the design specifics which heightened the efficiency and sustainability of the facility as a hub of knowledge for the modern being. Definitely worth the stop. 

That night, we met up with my dad at a hotel in Federal Way and prepared to enter into our respective next chapters. A new year of school for him, and a new year of AmeriCorps for myself.