SNOW DAY

DC got 23 inches of snow Friday and Saturday. We were SNOWED IN! It's not like after 4 years in Syracuse and 10 years in Massachusetts I can't handle a little snowfall, but the city sure can't. This is the biggest storm that DC has seen in decades and the amount of snow that fell in one storm is the amount that typically falls here all year.

Here's the pic of our backyard from last night. We spent two hours digging out the cars and pathways in our yard, and since there's clearly no public snow removal here either, each neighbor is responsible for the sidewalk and alleyway surrounding their house. When I went to Wal-mart on friday looking for a shovel or salt, they laughed at me. We ended up borrowing from neighbors. What a workout!

Best of all, school is canceled for tomorrow. A fellow teacher bet me that it would be canceled all week. I refuse to believe that, but hey- you never know south of the Mason-Dixon line!

Peace and Love.

Long Overdue

This post is long, long overdue.

Last week was one of the most adventurous weeks I've had so far. It all started two Tuesdays ago with an enticing voicemail from my boss in LA, Dr. Charles. "You may think I'm calling you with long term plans," he said, "but in reality I'm calling with a short term opportunity that is going to send you into orbit when you hear it." I couldn't imagine what he wanted, and I called him back after school to discover that he was working on a new recording project with his Capitol Records guys and wanted- of all people- ME! to come out and sing a few baseball ditties for the recording.

At first I struggled. Could I leave school to go to LA? How many days could I miss? Where did my obligations lie? But we figured a way for me to miss just one day, a Tuesday. I would fly out after school Monday and fly back the next night on a red-eye and arrive in DC at 6 am. A true jet-set.

I was exhausted when I got off the plane in LA, but also thrilled. It was like some kind of Twilight Zone time warp, steppping back into my old world and seeing all my old coworkers. Charles and my friend Meghan picked me up and to my surprise and delight, headed to the Beverly Hills Hotel for dinner. The food was so exquisite I nearly cried (Teach For America diet has consisted of generic microwave meals, ensures, and Mac n Cheese, generally.) We caught up on the drama of the front office, where everyone had landed after the firing spree, and where future plans lie. It is a scary time out there for everyone. In an odd, odd way, my trip left me feeling very happy about my choice to do TFA and the job security, experience, and of course Master's Degree that are coming with it.

Recording in LA was a total blast. Being with such extrordinary musicians and watching them work, and then getting to step into the recording studio myself! It was some kind of crazy dream. I loved hearing myself in the headphones and singing into the high-tech mic. No matter what I did it sounded good! When I get pictures and the actual sound tracks I will post them for all to see. (Pre warning: THESE SONGS ARE CORNY!)

It was back to the grind on Wednesday, though. A painful grind on a red-eye's worth of sleep! But grad school is done, school school has been smooth, and Christmas is SO SOON! Yes...Life is good. More posts soon!

Peace and love.

Finally- pictures of my classroom!

I don't know why I didn't do this earlier, but here are a few glimpses of what a converted storage closet and a class of 37 students looks like. I try to make it a joyful place to learn, and I hope you agree!

Back to the grind

Thanksgiving came, and Thanksgiving went. I can't get over how fast those days flew by: everyone in Teach For America had been counting down to them like they were this giant miraculous milepost. If I had a dime for every person I heard say "If I can only make it to Thanksgiving..." I'd be a rich girl. But that great checkpoint flew by and kicked us all back to our classrooms this week with a new mantra: "Just a few more weeks till Christmas. Just a few, short weeks, and I'll be fine."

It's funny how in this job you're still plagued by the back to school jitters. I couldn't fall asleep Sunday night, in fact, I can't fall asleep most Sunday nights in anticipation for the upcoming week. It's sick how much time my mind dwells on my students, wondering if each lesson will work, navigating my strategies for each and every class. It's maddening to know that they'll never know how much of my soul and mind is getting poured into this job. It's crazy to know how much I hang on one student's dawning moment or one girl's smile.

But things are getting better. Even though I was nervous, and even though the kids were nuts returning from break, life is still better than I thought it would be. I was bracing for a fight after break, figuring some kind of drama would have developed in all those days off. But school is just school. I think it's a tribute to our administration working non-stop to whip this building into shape.

I'll close today's entry with a really funny chain email that another teacher forwarded. Keep in mind that my numbers are more like 40 students a class. I appreciate it a lot- you don't want to get me started about teacher compensation!

Teacher's Salaries
by Tom Osborne

Teachers' hefty salaries are driving up taxes, and they only work 9 or 10 months a year! It's time we put things in perspective and pay them for what they do--baby sit! We can get that for less than minimum wage.

That's right. Let's give them $3.00 an hour and only the hours they worked, not any of that silly "Planning time." That would be $19.50 a day (7:00 AM to 3:30 (or so) PM with 25 min. off for lunch).

Each parent should pay $19.50 a day for these teachers to baby-sit their children. NOW...How many do they teach in a class, 30? So that's $19.50 x 30 = $585.00 a day. However, remember they only work 180 days a year!!!We're not going to pay them for any vacations.

LET'S SEE....That's $585 x 180 = $105,300 per year.

What about those special teachers, and the ones with master's degrees? Well, we could pay them minimum wage, and just to be fair, round it off to $7.00 an hour. That would be $7 x 6 1/2 hours x 30 children x 180 days = $245,700 per year.

Wait a minute--there's something wrong here! Average teacher salary $50,000/180 days = $277/per day/30 students = $9.23/6.5 hours = $1.42 per hour per student. A very inexpensive baby-sitter and they even try - with your help - to EDUCATE your kids!

WHAT A DEAL....And the parents don't even have to buy them pizza!

_______

Peace and Love.

Selena, our Savior

When I was in highschool, I watched Selena almost every year in Spanish class. I remember the first time I saw it and how I cried at the end of the film. It's J Lo's first big movie, and Spanish teachers everywhere around the country own it and play it right before major vacations when they know that no real teaching will be possible in the classroom anyhow.

The best thing about Selena is that you can claim that it is a cultural exercise: the whole movie really is shaped about an identity crisis of the Mexican American woman. She lives between two worlds, never finding a real place in each, and finally winning over the hearts of both. But even if you don't decide to approach the cultural context of the film, it's just a damn good movie and the kids really like it.

I'm pulling the ultimate cop-out with option two: we aren't really analyzing the film, but rather just enjoying it before Thanksgiving break. I gave the kids a packet of busy work to do to keep them somewhat quiet during the film and sat correcting tests and entering grades. Just one more day of this malarky and I'll be home free...

Until then, an official thank you to Fox Studios for producing a film that saves every Spanish teacher in America at this time of year. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Sincerely,
Tori Hornstein

Turning point

This blog entry is going to be short.

This week has been happy.
Classes have been good.
Work ended... when school ended.
No fights.
A good weekend coming up.
I have... free time.
And I slept soundly 3 nights in a row.

Is it... possible... that I've turned a corner here?

Cautiously optimisticly yours,
Tori

Make it work

Last week I wrote about the violent crime that I feared would be a shot heard round the world. I'm afraid to report that I was, in some ways, right.

Since last monday when I wrote, there have been fistfights in school EVERY DAY, most as aftershocks to the main event. I tried remembering how many fights there were a YEAR at my highschool growing up. Maybe two or three- but never daily. Fights, in a sick way, are hilarious. Usually there's an administrator sprinting down the hall, followed by a wildebeest-type stampede of students looking to get a view of the action.

I still have enough humor left to laugh at the scenes of mayhem (and admit that if I were a student, I'd probably be in that stampede), but it's added another completely draining addition to my life here at school. Every day we have the additional job of security officer, checking each student for ID's, backpacks, jackets- making sure there aren't strangers lurking in the halls or weapons on anybody. And every day we must act as pacifists, constantly calming a revved up and unfocused student body, convincing them to leave the drama at the door and focus for an hour and a half on Spanish.

In a wierd way the wild environment has given more meaning to my job. I really do NOT need more stress, but on the same token I know that I must be an example of structure and support for my students in an environment where the focus is increasingly taken off learning. I also try to step back and remember that my school doesn't have metal detectors or police swarming the hall, and many of my peers in Teach For America teach in buildings that more closely resemble a jail than a school. I still work at a school, and I'm determined to be a factor in keeping it that way.

In other news, the DC fall weather is to DIE FOR! I finally get why fall is everyone's favorite season. It's the middle of November and the days are still a sweet, sunny 65 degrees with a crisp breeze blowing, and the nights are the kind of chilly made for hot spicy tea. Tomorrow I think I will cook a tasty fall dinner- maybe a chili! And celebrate these beautiful days.

Peace and love.

Realidades

Realidades is the name of my Spanish text book in Prince George's county. It means, "realities."

This weekend, my reality was that I needed to rest, relax and recharge. My mom came to visit me and help me get back on track. So I didn't go out on Halloween. I didn't drink or party or even do much besides clean my house, do my laundry, and get ahead. I set off for school today, thinking that I was in a better place and ready to get through till Thanksgiving.

But if life is teaching me anything, it's that with Teach For America, THERE IS NEVER A BREAK, and "reality" is always redefined. As soon as I arrived to school, I could tell that something was amiss. My first period class was off the walls, no one could focus. I kicked three students out in the first 15 minutes. No one would sit still or be quiet no matter how I begged.

The reason? I only found it out after lunch, after two periods of mayhem. One of my students had been violently stabbed, almost to death, over the weekend. He is in the hospital now, as my principal put it, "fighting." Kids were off the wall: talking about retaliation, guns in school, gangs, violence, territories... There was no way to focus the class, and no way to convince them that learning the verb "tener" was worth their time.

This week is going to be a new challenge, both for me as a teacher and me personally. I don't think it's hit me yet that MY STUDENT is in a hospital, maybe dying.

Realidades.

Panera Dreaming

It's a real fall day out today, a blustery pouring rain end to a miserably busy week.

Miserably busy isn't quite the right term. This week was full of a lot of joy. Never have I seen school spirit such is displayed at Gwynn Park. Everyone, World-of-Warcraft nerd to homecoming queen, took some part in the festivities. Each dress up day, our students went ALL OUT. Each evening, the festivities went on with greater enthusiasm than the day before. Today, we went to the homecoming football game and watched hundreds of students in the band, dance squads, cheer squads, flag squads and whatever else do the thriller dance in unison in front of looming, dark skies. It was electrifying!

But it has been a week without end. Monday: school than grad school. Tuesday: School, Professional Development, gradschool. Wednesday: School, then judging class decorations untill 5. Thursday, school, then judging all of the class night competition mayhem till 10pm. Friday: School, Pep ralley, and finally home to collapse. No sleeping in Saturday: off to Teach For America Professional development, then the football game, and now a few hours of grad school work in a Panera till we go chaperone the dance tonight. Tomorrow, it will be all work catch up again, and monday we're off on another week where I'll be observed by my principal.

One of my roommates is seriously considering quitting Teach For America after a student's mother accused her of racial insults. Now she will have to deal with the school board and other authorities. My other roommate is also at serious burn out stage. We spend too often crying and wondering about what's missing, not sleeping and constantly fretting, without any end in sight. Today at PD they pep talked us and told us we were all in the same boat: It had to be our will power to get us through.

I think I went through my bigger crash a few weeks ago (see: dissillusionment phase) and now I'm just operating in some kind of numb, apathetic state waiting for Thanksgiving. I wrote a letter to myself in June that they gave back to us today. I laughed at the ironic starting paragraph to the letter, written before I had seen ONE SECOND in a classroom or had known one ounce of exhaustion:
..........

Dear Tori,

What have you gotten yourself into? This is not PR- this is not a nonprofit you invest in before March. This is not where you thought you'd be.

The week has been a long one. You feel like you've been here a long time...You know you need to get inspired, but overwhelming you are still the doubts about this choce and the worries about your future. You are wary of glorification and idealism.

At the same time you are impressed with the TFA machine. It is young, passionate, full on conviction. It's well organized, resources abound. Support is huge. This is a corporate culture you could work for.

There's still so much that needs to fall into place. You're moving on with a cautious optimism, hoping the next few weeks will touch the spirit.

You're praying a lot. You're hoping a lot. And you're getting ready to work because you CAN rock this.

Buenas Suerte,
Tori

.....

Best poem ever.

It felt appropriate today to haul out one of my favorite poems of all time:

"Sick"

by Shel Silverstein

"I cannot go to school today,"
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
"I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox
And there's one more--that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut--my eyes are blue--
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke--
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb.
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is--what?
What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is. . .Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play!"

Thank goodness for Shel. If you haven't browsed his work in a long time, I say you take a gander. His poems, for me, only improve as I grow older. Shel had a way in understanding big feelings- rip your heart out big feelings- and publishing them in the clever guise of a jaunty rhyme. "Sick," isn't one of his more profound works, but this one below hits home for all us lost college grads trying to figure out how to be grown ups...

God's Wheel by Shel Silverstein

GOD says to me with a kind
of smile, "Hey how would you like
to be God awhile And steer the world?"
"Okay," says I, "I'll give it a try.

Where do I set?
How much do I get?
What time is lunch?
When can I quit?"

"Gimme back that wheel," says GOD.
"I don't think you're quite ready YET."

For more Shel, check it out here: Shelsilverstein.com,

or simply google his name, browse and enjoy.

Next Week!

Just got this email...

HOW JEALOUS ARE YOU THAT YOU DON'T GET TO BE PART OF SPIRIT WEEK!?

Dear Staff,

Next week is Homecoming Spirit Week. It is a very trying time for teachers. I want to thank you in advance for your patience and support next week.

We have about 10 committees working on each segment of Homecoming "Remember The Time" a tribute to Michael Jackson. We need judges for the "Class Door Decorating" contest, the "Class Wall Decorating" contest and Pep Rally as well as chaperones for "Class Night" and the Homecoming Dance.

The schedule is:

Monday, 10/19 "Man In The Mirror" Twin day

Tuesday, 10/20 "Working Day and Night" Dress in future profession attire

Homecoming Court Pageant 7:00 p.m.

Wednesday, 10/21 "Off The Wall" Dress in mixed-matched clothes

Class Door Decoration judging @ 4:30 p.m.

Thursday, 10/22 "I'll Be There" Dress in Class Colors (2013- Silver/black 2012- Green/black 2011- Blue/black

2010- Red/Black)

Class Night 7:00 p.m. (classes compete in relay races, obstacle course, etc)

Friday, 10/23 "P.Y.T" Pride of the Yellow Jacket Tradition Dress in black and gold

Class Wall Judging 7:00 a.m. in the lg.gym

Pep Rally featuring live entertainment , announcement of the winners of the Door contest, Wall contest, Spirit

Week contest, Class Night contest, Pep Rally spirit contest, Homecoming court. The highest total

accumulated points of all events will win the "SPIRIT STICK." The Spirit Stick has been officially removed

from Ms. Briscoe's office and awaiting a new winner. According to Ms. Briscoe, the Class of 2011 will

WIN the Spirit Stick back!!

Saturday, 10/24 Homecoming Football Game 2:00 p.m.

Pre-game show 1:40 p.m.

Homecoming Festival 9:00-noon

Halftime Show - honoring the 40th anniversary of GPHS Homecoming Queen 1969: Judi Mori

and the crowning of the 2009 King and Queen

Dance 7:00 -11:00 p.m.

Oct. 1-24th "Heal the World" Canned food drive sponsored by P.B.I.S.

If you would like to be a judge for any of the above contests or a chaperone, please let me know.

Sincerely,

Coach Hawkins

Good Hair

Work. Work. Work. It's all I ever seem to write about, because it's all I ever seem to do.

But there are some funny moments. Moments that just a few months ago would have blown my mind, but now just are another day in the life.

I have a confession. Before this summer, I did not know the trials and tribulations that black women went through with their hair. I didn't know that black hair can't really grow long. I literally had no black friends in highschool, or really in college, that explained this to me. When it was revealed that all those braids and curls and really hair of any length at all is FAKE, my mind was blown!

Chris Rock is coming out with a documentary called "Good Hair." When Meredith and I can, we try to get home in time for Oprah. She had Chris on to explain the documentary and to tell America just what black women go through. Wigs, relaxers, braids, weaves, what makes "good hair" and "bad hair," what self esteem issues little black girls go through... white people of course have bad hair days and hair struggles, especially if your hair is curly, but ladies, I tell you, nothing like this!

With this new information in mind, I went to Meredith's classroom for lunch to see one of her students hanging out taking a pair of classroom scissors to her head. I shreiked. "What are you doing!"

The girl just laughed and explained that she was cutting out her weave.

Meredith and I were fascinated. "How long did it take to go in there?" Meredith asked.

"About 4 hours," the girl replied.

"When do you know it's time for it to come out?" we wondered.

"When it's all nasty and I hate it!" The girl thought it was hilarious how rapt we were at this process.

Suddenly, a boy meandered into the classroom, skipping class. "Whatcha doin? Cuttin out all that horse hair?" He teased the girl, clearly flirting.

Snip. She accidentally cut some of her real hair and pouted. "Oh well."

Piles and piles of black human hair, probably once on the head of some poor woman in India, covered a desk. The two of them bantered back and forth about weaves, rows, braids and dreads.

"You gotta understand, we're white, we don't get it!" We clamored as they combed and pulled and unbraided, laughing at us all the while.

Always an adventure. Check out the trailer for the movie and have your mind blown! Good Hair

Peace and love!

Disillusionment phase

Last night I fell asleep at 7:30 pm.

Straight up DEAD. On the couch. Before Jeopardy had even started.

What is going on with my life?!?!

Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to the disillusionment stage of a Teach For America teacher. The adrenaline from the first month has worn off. The newness and excitement is over. You know your students' names, you know the layout of the school. Now, you're just part of the grind. But it's a grind that has no end, no break, and no relief in sight till Thanksgiving.

There's always something else to do. Entering grades, going to meetings, lesson planning, grad school, creating tests, taking care of bills, paperwork, paperwork paperwork! I'm working investment banker hours on a teacher salary. They say it's all worth it when you don't have to work for 8 weeks in the summer. They say it's all worth it when you've got a Master's degree and the salary to follow. I hope they're right! But for right now, I'm cranky, tired, and jealous of everyone working a 9-5.

I don't know if it's the hours that are getting to me. I didn't have the same kind of run-down depression when I worked in LA at a similar schedule. I know that the true success stories in life are those who go above and beyond the 9-5. My dad has never known a 40 hour week in his life. Maybe it's the emotional aspect of this job? Everything depends on you, there's nothing else to blame if you have a bad day. Or maybe I'm just another bitter college grad remembering my life a few short months ago as I scan friends' facebook pages.

I know, I know. I have a blessed and perfect life and everything I could ask for. I am reminded of that daily when I witness some of my students' struggles. But when you feel this burned out, you're allowed to write one whiney blog post!

Crankily yours,
Tori

Camden Yards

When they say "Fenway South" or maybe a better term would be "Fenway Mid-Atlantic," they are not joking when it comes to Camden Yards! This Saturday, I finally went and saw a game at the famed stadium with my dear Sox in town. What a wonderful night!

The weather in DC has been to die for this week. This must be the fall weather that everyone raves about! Cool crisp nights and warm, glowing days. Saturday evening was a perfect night to catch a game. Not a cloud in the sky bothered us as we drove to Baltimore...if anything I was a little chilly!

All my compliments to the birds for their gorgeous stadium. The place smells like Dr. Charles- everything about it seems to have his touch, you can tell he was thinking of "the fan experience" when he and Lucchino went to work. The old factory backdrop, the arrangement of the seats, the green classic paint- you feel like you are in an old-time stadium. The place has character, it doesn't feel commercial in the least. And I confess, I adore the Orioles' mascot. It's too bad that the seats were teeming with rowdy Boston fans!

The game was a smear, and I almost felt bad for the O's. But a chowdah head never is sad about a great win and like every fan I'm praying the Sox have it this year to go all the way.

This week the Dodgers are in DC... so that will be a blast from my past. I will be eating dinner with Dr. Charles tonight and hopefully catching Tommy L and company on Wednesday. You know I'm a happy girl with so much BASEBALL to chew on !!

Peace and Love.

Back to School Night

Tonight is Back to School night at Gwynn Park, and in a funny way I'm excited. No, I'm definitely not thrilled about being in the same building from 6:30 am to 9:30 pm- that is FOR SURE my bed time, but I am excited about meeting my students' parents for the first time. Usually, the apple doesn't fall that far from the tree, and I think it's going to be really eye opening to see who- if anybody- comes by for the night.

It's a busy and hellish week. This today, grad class yesterday, and more professional development on Thursday afternoon. Wednesday, I have a huge packet due for Teach For America, and I'm also supposed to put together 3 days of emergency substitute plans by the week's end. Pray tell, WHEN? I don't even have a moment to watch a football game, cook a nice dinner or even THINK about working out. Every moment, I am working and I'm never caught up. Someday, I'll be a millionaire when I invent the "Teach For America" diet- stay awake ungodly hours, relieve hunger pains with adrenaline, and NEVER SIT all day. You'll waste away, promise!

Last weekend, in between re-taking the praxis test and going through 8 hours of correcting tests, I did find some time to go out on Saturday. A new friend here is teaching me how to swing a golf club, and I'm hoping to make a habit out of it. It's one business skill I didn't pick up while at SU, and I've always wanted to learn how to play.

Well, best wishes to all from a tired girl. If anyone has any tricks for making the day longer let me know!

Peace and love.

Alive and well

Just a short post this evening to let everyone know that yes- I am alive and well. I love my school, I love my students, I love my coworkers. Every day is simply entertaining, and I think I'm very lucky to land where I did.

I have to say one thing though: There is simply nothing more thrilling than taking away a student's cell phone. It's a cardinal rule: don't text during my class. Don't text during any class, but especially not one where the teacher is literally dancing a jig and twirling and bopping and having you interact, where you're speaking and repeating and asking and answering, where everything on the board is new to you and where your teacher is young enough to absolutely know what you're doing when you're "looking around in your purse." No, don't text in that class above all classes or there will be a problem.

The best part about the cell phone take-away is the standoff. Some students roll over quietly, knowing they are busted. But some of them put up a good fight- what they don't know is, it isn't a fair one. I'm going to win every time. Today it went a little something like this:

(approach student while still teaching)
Me: Give me your cell phone. (Put palm out.)
Student: No.
Me: Give me your cell phone. Clase, que significia son las dos?
Student: No.
Me: Give me your cell phone. This is not a negotiation. Muy bien! It's two. Ok, Son las cinco! Son las cinco.
Student: I'm putting it away.
Me: Nope, now. (beckons with hand)
Student: I'm not going to.
Me: Well, I'm not going anywhere. Give it to me.
Student: When am I getting it back? (cedes phone.)
Me: End of the day. See you then. Yes! 5 o'clock! Very good!

In fact, it's almost like fishing. The fight before the catch makes it more fun. I took two today. I'm hoping to get up to about 5 a week. I'm told that's how I'll know when I've really become a "strict" teacher... haha!

Peace and love!

Things I've overheard...

Student: I don't like that new Spanish teacher. She's MEAN.
Teacher: Which one?
Student: Well, you know. The white one.
Teacher: Which one?
Student: Well, the white one with brown hair.
Teacher: WHICH ONE?
Student: Well, she has a German sounding last name or something.
Teacher: Which ONE?!
Student: I dunno! She's just mean!
Teacher: Well, you said I was mean the first week last year and now I have to kick you out of my class at 4:30 because you won't leave. Does "mean," mean she's makin y'all WORK?
Student: Maybe....

Ms. Rosenberg and Ms. Hornstein- two new white brown haired german soundingish last named MEAN spanish teachers- are doing something right!!

Mayhem

News Bulletin: I am now a Spanish teacher at Gwynn Park High School in Prince George's County. I have 160 students that I teach in 6 periods, block scheduling, on A and B days. I teach 3 classes of Spanish I and 3 classes of Spanish II- each class has 30-35 students. I have more stories in 3 days than I could ever tell in a blog- and it's only been 3 days.

I think from now on, saving up for a weekly post is going to be too overwhelming. I'm going to start doing random small entries when a good story comes up, because I find that those literary gems are lost by week's end and I'm too tired to sit and write a thorough post.

I LOVE my students. They are hilarious so far, and so ready to learn. Yes, they are pushing back- they know beyond any shadow of a doubt that I am the new kid in town. But I can also tell that they are craving structure and a challenge. When I introduced my big goal of 80% class mastery, there were many groans and moans of protest- but there were also students who said out loudly, "Thank God Y'all! A teacher that's goin make us learn!"

Most funny have been the questions. "Are you giving us homework? Are you going to be hard? You one a those strict teachers or somethin?" Yes, yes and yes. But are you going to learn more Spanish with me in one month than you've learned all of last year? Absolutely. Are you going to like my class? Absolutely. Are you going to have to work your butt off? Absolutely...and that will be the challenge. Making them WANT to work.

Their minds are already blown by the organization, games and activities of the first few classes. I don't think many teachers they've seen give them this kind of a show. It's only day 3 and I've got two more years to go. There is a LOT to learn...

Peace and Love.

The Best Happy Hour in DC

Last week, I reunited with a friend from high school named Kate. She was a student at AU, and to welcome me to town she wrote a list of all her favorite DC hot spots. Right in the middle of the bars and restaurants was something called "Drum Circle" and next to it she wrote "where everyone goes on Sundays 3-9pm."

It struck me a little odd that Sunday was a bar night in DC. But what do I know about city living? Every night's a "going out," night, I figured, and after another stressful week waiting for a teaching assignment, I decided that a few drinks on a Sunday afternoon couldn't hurt. I texted Kate: "Still going to Drum Circle? Can't wait.. what time should we meet?"

Kate returned my text with a phone call. "Do you want to have a picnic?" She asked. I hesitated. A pre-bar picnic? Well, cheers to Sundays in DC. "Sure," I replied. "What should I bring? Where are we picnicing?"

"At Drum Circle," she answered. I was confused. I never heard of a bring your own food bar. "Um," I said. "Wait, where is this place again?"

"At Malcolm X park, near U street," she replied. "I guess you can bring whatever, people just kind of eat and hang out, do yoga and listen to the drums."

Suddenly, it clicked. "Drum Circle," wasn't the name of a bar. It literally was a DRUM CIRCLE. In a park. Where people sat, and picniced. And did yoga. Ok, so not exactly what I was expecting for the afternoon- but I decided that this sounded even better!

And I was right. I've never seen anything like the Drum Circle. According to Kate, it's the one place where all walks of life in DC get together in peace and love for 5 hours a week. The park itself was beautiful, it reminded me of Parque Guell in Barcelona for any of you Spain travelers. And as I climbed flights of stairs towards the top of the hill and the beat of the drums, I could see exactly what she meant. Blacks, whites, and every color in between sat on the grass. Mothers with babies, small middle school boys, and college kids mingled with food and laughter. There were popped-collar Georgetown types and Patagonia-bearing city hippies, women dancing around with incence and couples doing Yoga in the most incredible positions that I had ever witnessed. There were even people tightrope walking between trees. Elderly people closed their eyes, enjoying the sunshine and warm breeze. Everything about it was relaxed and joyful.


Best of all were the drummers. There must have been 100 people or more with all kinds of drums and instruments. Homeless men and college professors all beat in rhythm. I wanted to know who was in charge of the giant cacaphony making it all work together seamlessly! And behind the huge circle of drummers were 40 or 50 people dancing to the beat. It was such a hodge-podge, it completely blew my mind.

If any of you find yourself wandering Washington DC on a Sunday afternoon with nothing to do, or you just feel a need to see what the world at peace might look like, this bizzare break from the real world is a must-see every Sunday afternoon. I look forward to more adventures off the beaten (or is it on the beaten? Drum...pun...) path.

Peace and Love.

DC at Last

Yes! I am finally here in the district, in my adorable new house in my amazing new city! It is so refreshing to have a LIFE back- if only for a few weeks. Right now, the place is chaos as we are all more or less "camping out," here. I don't have a bed, or any furniture, and the dining room is a glorified storage closet for all the bags and boxes of items we can't bring ourselves to deal with yet. We are all very excited for when this house becomes a "home." I think just a few storage cabinets will make all the difference in the world!

My two roommates spent last week in professional development and more training as they prepare for the year. But since I am in limbo, I decided to go home to MA and at least pack my car with my clothes and kitchen supplies. Tonight, I made a shrimp scampi in my new kitchen. Even if I don't have a bed, I'm good as long as I can cook! This upcoming week will be much of the same: they will continue their training, and I will continue waiting. I am told that I might have some answers from the TFA office, or at least some progress, by the week's end. In the meanwhile, I plan on painting, unpacking, and continuing the never-ending cleaning. Keep your fingers crossed for me that I am assigned to a Spanish classroom!

Otherwise, I don't have all that much to report. DC is just wonderful. It feels like I live in Paris- the city is so beautiful and refined in so many ways. There are vibrant colors and all kinds of people to behold, and the sight of the monuments and the architecture in general still takes my breath away. I've been lucky enough to check out Chinatown, Georgetown, Dupont Circle, and Adams Morgan this week. Already I have been to some amazing restaurants and great bars. There's just so much to do and everyone here is young and confident. It's not hard to meet people. I would love to join a softball league or take a pilates class to make some more new friends. I am expecting challenging, draining work during the school year- but I refuse to give up my social life entirely! There's just too much to see and do here.

Until next week. Peace and love!

FREEDOM

The last post I wrote, I think my overwhelming exhaustion came through with every typed word. This last week, I hit rock bottom. After giving my kids their final exams, and reviewing the results, I couldn't have been at a lower low. The one thing that gets everyone through the excruciating work of institute is the joy in seeing your students succeed. When our class average on the final came in at a 76%, and I knew that some kids had failed the course, it was like swallowing a rock. To call home parents and tell them that their kids would be repeating grades- to tell students you've been encouraging all summer that their final test was a D... how can you balance the ups and downs of the experience? How do you make sure that it's not YOU who pushes some struggling student over the edge of dropping out of high school? How do you find a way to tell a student riddled by text anxiety that they can do it? How do you maintain faith and trust, so fragile that you've built with your kids? It's overwhelming pressure in this profession, knowing that someone's life and future rides on your shoulders. You may be even tempted to pass the failing students...but then you do them no justice either when they arrive the next year and get lost and give up by week three...

My class was not with out its successes. It had many of them! For as many students that failed, there were those that started out on the edge, getting 50's and 60's, who we pushed up to producing consistent B quality work on tests. There were those that had no confidence in their brilliance that we showed could and should expect A's in their life, not just "passing." But it's always "the one that gets away" that haunts you.

So yes, after the test I was in a foul mood. I couldn't wait to get out of school and start fresh with a new class. The second to last day, I gave the students the equivalent of a college course evaluation that my friend Liz had given her class to amazing results. "Give them lots of time," she advised me. "They are more thoughtful and thorough then you could imagine."

She was right. She was beyond right. These reviews changed my life. They changed the whole way I thought about my work this summer. And more than anything, I knew that I didn't lose one single kid. Not one. Even the ones that failed weren't walking away hopeless. I have included a few quotes from these reviews that I will keep with me forever, wherever the next two years take me I will know in 20 days that I was able to touch my students. It thrills me to think about what opportunities await me in a year. Here are just a few samples:


"I really enjoyed you as my teacher...you kept a very high energy in the class so every day was a awesome day."

"She made me confident in myself. Made me beleive I can do anything if I put my mind to it."

"She has helped me alot by going through the objective I don't get and she gives me the energy to work hard and do well by leaving little comments on my exit slip."

" I love Senorita Hornstein. Just because of Srta. Hornstein now next year I will be prepared for Spanish 2. Thank you so much!"

"I LOVE IT!!!!!!!!! I LOVE SENORITA HORNSTEIN :-) She is funny... needs to learn some new raps."

And my favorite, from the student I failed:
I love it. I never worked so hard. Thank you all...Ms. Hornstein encourage me to stay strong, go to school and do what I have to do so I can graduate. Thank you for all the hard work and push so I can go to college because I've had so many haters.


I took a photo diary of my last day at South Philly. Please enjoy a trip through my day here... http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2307403&id=5515657&l=5857b6ae64

Wearing out

Man, I am tired.
So, so tired.
It’s been a very long, and very trying week.

A few life updates: My future right now with Teach For America is somewhat in limbo. As I mentioned before, I did not pass one of my required Praxis tests to be certified as a Spanish teacher in the state of Maryland. Because I took the test in June, there was no other option to retake the test in time for the start of the school year, and no test site locations near Philadelphia. Now, because of these scores, I lost my placement at a middle school and at this point am just hoping I can still teach Spanish. The TFA office is trying to put me in a DC Charter school, where the Praxis scores won’t matter, at least at first. If they can’t find a placement for me in Spanish, they will try to put me in History or English, two subjects with “easy” Praxis tests I would take later. The problem is, now I am so invested in my Spanish curriculum that if I got a different placement, I feel like this whole marrow-draining summer would be for naught. All I can do is wait, and keep up my hard work here.

I’ve never known exhaustion like this week. My body is literally breaking down, and I’m not alone: all 700 of us are completely frazzled. The issues were compounded yesterday with shocking news: one of our summer school students was murdered. The corps members that were his teachers were quite shaken. At lunch, we’ll be working with a counselor to learn some concrete techniques to deal with incidents like these that we may encounter in the fall. The most bizarre thing to me is that the whole thing seems very low-key for the people here. Is it possible that in this setting you become numb to the death of a classmate?

There were a few nice points to the week. Thankfully, we signed a lease this week for a home in the Eastern Market area. It’s lovely, and we’re so excited to move. So that’s one less thing on our shoulders. As soon as I can I will post pictures of the interior…we have granite countertops!

And the other most important thing to report is the success of my classroom. Despite all the clutter in my life right now, this remains the one part of my day that is golden. Somehow, in a mere 2 weeks, I have developed a wonderful rapport with my students. They absolutely LOVE my corny teaching style and my professors here tell me that my energy and enthusiasm in the classroom is unmatched. It has been delightful watching my kids grow, and their grades blossom, as they invest in the idea of high scores and speaking Spanish daily. In fact, my classroom is so smooth that I feel like I am unprepared for the fall. In observing the behavior struggles of other classrooms, I can’t decide if we’re actually doing something right in my class or if we are just very lucky to have a great batch of kids. Yesterday, I taught hair and eye color using a ridiculous-looking paper doll on the board. “Yooooo, she’s a hot mess!” They cheered. But their assessment data at day’s end tells me that they not only enjoyed my cheesy doll, but they paid attention to the lesson.

At the end of the day, that’s why we’re all here and I use those small moments to get me through each struggle. Only 5 more days in the classroom left!

Peace and love.

Small breakthroughs

"How do you say ice cream?" A girl raised her hand and blurted out the question.

"That's one of my favorite words," I replied. "Helado. The H is silent," I said as I wrote it on the board. "It sounds like EL- LAD- DOH."

I saw the girl scribble something down onto her folder. "So, me gusta helado is I like ice cream," she said. I saw that she wrote the phrase she learned yesterday with the new word next to it. "I'm gonna try that on my ice cream man. I'm gonna say, 'me gusta helado."

"That's awesome!" I said. "Emma, you're so talented at Spanish. I know you get it. I want you to tell me what happens when you try it out, ok!"

"She ain't talented!" a boy in front of her chimed in. "I'm talented. She's copyin me!"

"No I ain't! I can do Spanish!" She taunted back. "I'm good!"

Yeah, it was a silly argument and a tiny interaction. But for me, it was a defining moment of the week. I had a girl extending her vocabulary, wanting to try Spanish out in her life, and telling the kid in front of her that she WAS good at Spanish!

So ended week 3 of institute. There are two weeks to go, and I can feel my body breaking down but my spirits are high. My kids are behaving, and they're LEARNING. The kids each have individual growth goals that TFA decides at the beginning of the summer. Using a computer program, we see how they did on their pre-test and decide what's a reasonable goal for them at the end of the summer. We focus on growth, more than actual grades. So for example, a student that scored a 20 on the pretest might have a goal of a 60 for the final, since that would mean a 200% growth. But screw the data: my kids are getting B's, and a good amount of them are getting (and definitely EARNING) A's. I thought tracking the data would be boring, but it is THRILLING to be able to watch the curves go up. And it's even more thrilling to watch the kid's faces when you can show them on a computer how they got an A, and how you know they can keep it up. So many of them are so used to giving up.

And as for me? Life is still in chaos- there's a lot of loose ends. I didn't pass my Praxis test, meaning I have to figure out a time to study and retake that to be certified as a teacher. I still don't have my housing solidified. I do, however, know my placement school in Prince George's county, and I will be a middle school teacher! As such, I'll be the only Spanish teacher there, and I'll be part of the "creative arts" team. So my department is me, the art teacher, the computer teacher, and the music teacher. I think it's going to be fun, but I definitely need some courses on middle school psychology!

Well, that's all for now...
and hopefully next week will bring good stories.

Peace and Love.
T

Relentless Pursuit

The first week of teaching: how does anyone begin to describe this experience? It has been a long, harrowing week. On average, I get about 4 hours of sleep a night. This is catching up to all of us, I notice my spoken sentences garbling and my attention span shortening. I have only been at this for four days, and already I can see why the experience is like a drug habit: sometimes there are incredible lows. The hours are long, the rewards are far and few between, and everyone is so anxious. But occasionally, the last student you would expect shows up for extra help. Or the girl struggling at home gets a 100 on your quiz. Or you can see the excitement on a student’s face when they’re praised for “getting” your lesson. It’s on those few moments that I have the energy to write today.

Summer school has technically been in session since last Wednesday, but even yesterday kids were coming into our class with new rosters, needing to be caught up on the material. Our students are a varied bunch: some are completely solid on the basic Spanish concepts that we’re teaching, and are only in summer school because of attendance issues. Some of them are here because they didn’t pass the class. Some are freshman, some are seniors, and all need a foreign language credit to graduate. For this reason, a sense of desperate urgency prevails in the classroom.

Standing in front of a sea of faces on my first day was unlike any other performance of my life. Yeah, I’ve been on stage before, many many times. But I’ve never done a solo improv performance that lasts for more than an hour! Even though we spend hours upon hours lesson planning, all the details are lost when you’re in front of the room. And for me, they literally did get lost!

I started my first day with an “investment activity” that asked the students to look under their desks. Some of them found quotes taped there about why American students should learn Spanish. I had them read the quotes one by one, and the asked them: Who do you think said this quote? The answer was president Obama, and I showed the kids a video on my laptop of the speech I referenced. Somehow, in my adrenaline and shuffle of the activity, I lost my precious clipboard and lesson plan. Gone! Into the abyss of the classroom, my lesson plan was lost, and I was only in the first 5 minutes of my class on my first day.

I had a crucial decision to make. Stop the class and search, or march on. What if some kid had it? What if I couldn’t find it? I decided I would march on. Mustering up every once of “drama kid” in me, I began class. One by one, I hit the objectives. I went through all the activities I planned. My head began to relax: I remembered everything. Feeling good, I got ready to wrap up the lesson.

Then I looked at the clock.

8:35 !!!! 8:35 !!! I had only taught for 35 minutes! There were 25 minutes of class left, my lesson was lost, and I ran out of everything I planned. What was I going to do?

At this point I literally blacked out. I’m not even sure what all I did for 25 minutes. I know I was making stuff up, talking about expectations and telling them about my experiences. With 10 minutes left to go in class, I gave the helm over to my co-teacher to tell a story from his study abroad experience. When that horrid, slow hour had finally passed, I was a nervous wreck.

To my shock and delight, our mentor teacher was glowing. “It was wonderful!” She said. “So natural, you were teaching from the heart. And you didn’t even need your clipboard.”

Oh, if you only knew.

So many stories to come- peace and love.

Boot Camp

I have been here for four days and it feels like I have been here a month. By day two, girls were crying. By day three, everyone was exhausted beyond their wildest dreams. I drank 5 doses of caffeine yesterday to stay alert. Yes, this is Teach For America institute. And it is only the very, very beginning.

I am lucky in some ways. In fact, I have it very easy. When my elementary education friends are working on 6 or even 9 lesson plans, I am only working on 3. And when they have to explain abstract concepts like "picking a book thoughtfully," I work on vocabulary lists. Some of them are practicing this summer on 2nd graders when in reality they will be teaching 6th graders. I am teaching exactly what I will be teaching in the fall: Spanish 1. So, in many ways I am very lucky. But I hardly call getting four or five hours of sleep a night a gift!

Let me explain my schedule. Each morning, we are out the door of our Temple University dorm at about 5:40 am to the dining hall to eat breakfast and fill our coffee canteens. Then out the door we go, grabbing a bagged lunch on the way to big yellow school buses that take us to our "school sites." I have been placed at South Philadelphia High School about 20 minutes away- and well, lets just say that I am there for a reason. The school is four stories high and was built in that classic 1950's soviet bloc concrete style. The windows have iron bars over them, as do every glass surface in the building. The bathrooms have no stall doors, and large spray painted warnings tell you DO NOT DRINK WATER. Imagine- a school with no potable water running through its pipes! There have been attempts to spruce up the place- a few beautiful murals here and there- but over all it is falling apart.

Once at the school, we sign in and next week will start ACTUALLY teaching summer school. I will teach one hour a day- and three of my peers will trade off with me, each taking a turn and completing an hour as well. The students attending have already failed various subjects: perhaps for academic reasons, perhaps for attendance reasons. In any event it will be our job to cram a year's worth of knowledge into just 4 short weeks. We got our diagnostic tests back today: most of the students I will be teaching scored an average of 20 on the test. They most likely got this score by randomly guessing on the multiple choice format. I have a lot of work ahead of me.

Besides this one hour, the rest of the day till 4:30 is spent fervently trying to learn how to "BE" a teacher. So many things go into it, so many formulas! Classroom management, Class culture, student investment, rules and consequences. Each must be thought out BEFORE actually meeting the students. Never mind the lesson plans themselves! Each minute must be scripted. At this point, we have no other choice.

After we return to Temple, the day is hardly over. If you're lucky you can get in a run and eat dinner. Then, there are night time sessions to attend about diversity and team building, and always, always more work. Something about it all seems a bit amiss- I want to believe that my "rewards and consequences" formulas I've been slaving over this week are going to work, but I have a looming fear that come Monday morning the kids just aren't going to buy it.

There's a loud fight in the hall. The bathroom reeks of pot. No one can get a drink, and I'm supposed to cover a year of Spanish in 20 days.

But this is why we're here right? I have to believe that there wouldn't be so many brilliant, motivated grads and veterans here with me if SOMETHING didn't give.

Until next week. Peace and love.

TFA Inductions

I'm writing this post from a creaky plastic mattress in an almost empty dorm room on the George Washington University campus. It's my home for the week as I live out of suitcases and try not to unpack too much! This is Teach For America inductions, and as one friend described it, it's Hansel and Gretel week: they're fattening us up and tricking us into enjoying Teach For America before they throw us in the oven next week at Institute!

Everything here is intense, but pleasantly so. Imagine a world where every kid was the "super kid" of their college: everyone here is young, brilliant, good looking, accomplished and funny. It's a world of J Crew suits and clicking high heels, interviews, brainstorms and debate. So far, Teach For America is a little intimidating, but it's also invigorating to be in such good company.

The days start early. After a Starbucks breakfast, we have to go to seminars, community panels, and q & a sessions. Topics like diversity, the achievement gap, or where to find an apartment are a few of the items on the menu. Each day promises a bag lunch to be gobbled before the next seminar. We've traveled to the Kennedy Center and National Geographic building, and listened to speakers ranging from the superintendent of Prince George's county to last year's corps members. Today, I'll hop the metro and get my first view of Prince George's County at a hiring fair.

It hasn't been all work though- there's been a lot of play. Everyone is eager to explore the nightlife and DC is a beautiful, young, very "walkable" city. They told us in one of our sessions that it's ranked as the 8th best city in the country to be single! We've gone out almost every night to a bar or two, and so far I've really enjoyed the few neighborhoods I've seen. But no form of socializing could prepare me for last night.

Teach For America is made possible in thanks to very generous donations and grants from companies and individuals. Obviously, these investors care deeply about education and want to see where their money is going. Last night, all of us were required to attend various dinners throughout the city with these sponsors. We were told they were thrilled to meet us, discuss our futures, and talk about education. My sponsor was a Vice President at Price Waterhouse Coopers. He lived in a mansion outside the city in Virginia. At his home, we were treated to hoers de oeuvres, drinks, and a phenomenal formal dinner. All the while, a live three-piece orchestra filled the room with music. We were able to enjoy his immaculate Victorian interior design, lively conversation, and the warmth of his family. They were self made people; delightful and genuine and so pleased to be a part of our movement. After a champagne toast and delicious miniature desserts, we packed up and fought the traffic back home to the district.

My head is in a bit of a whirlwind. It's hard to believe I've only been here 3 days. There's a lot to take in, intellectually and socially. But I know for sure that this will be the most grand "aventura" of my life.

Mr. Toad's Wild Ride

Dalton, MA. Woodstock, VT. Dalton, MA. Providence, RI. Lincoln, RI. Portsmouth, RI. Orleans, MA. Provincetown, MA. Portsmouth, RI. Cumberland, RI. Dalton MA.

Yes, it was a wild ride this weekend! Taking tests, visiting relatives, seeing old friends and eating as much lobster as possible- by the time I got home I was exhausted but pleased with my marathon trip. The highlight of the journey was without a doubt going deep sea fishing with my Dad and Papa!

Dad and his cronies have been going fishing off the Cape for years now, always with the same guide named Glenn. Every time, he returned with gigantic fish- striped bass and bluefish, the occasional shark and tales of whales, sea turtles and ocean sunfish. Dad and I planned a trip before I left for DC. I have never been on one of these trips, and I was excited to reel in those 40 inch gigantic Bass I had heard so much about.

I'm not going to lie. Waking up at 4:45 am was a little painful. The day was gray, misty and freezing cold. I dressed like I was going skiing- it felt ridiculous until the boat pulled out and the icy ocean wind whipped through to the skin. My teeth chattered, and my dad assured me that as soon as I was catching fish, I would warm right up.

Our guide's radar showed that there was a school of big fish below us, so we pulled up next to a pack of other fishing boats. (I can't believe so many people get up this early.) It wasn't more than a second after I cast my line into the water that I heard my Papa yell: "FISH ON!"

Then my Dad. "FISH ON!" Then Glenn. "GOTTA FISH!" I reeled in my line desperately. We used long, rubber lures that looked like eels. Mine was chomped off, but no fish to be seen! Quickly, I re-rigged and threw my line out again. Cast after cast, and no luck for me! Dad and Papa and Glenn continued to yell and laugh, reeling in giant bass after giant bass. The huge fish were spiky, shiny and heavy. I was getting so mad! Why couldn't I catch a fish!!? The guys finally pitied me and let me reel in a few.

The hours crept by, as the boat explored different spots in the bay. All told, the guys caught more than a dozen fish. The sun had come out and burned off the cold mist, and the end of the morning was fast approaching. One last cast, I thought dejectedly. Maybe I'll get lucky...

Yes, that's a fish. It's about half the size of the lure and somehow I speared it reeling in my line. The odds of me catching a fish that small with a hook that big have got to be one in a million. I mean, is that even possible?

When we got home to show off the pictures, Katie paused at my trophy catch. "Hmm. Tor, I dunno. I think you're holding it close to the camera to make it look bigger."

Only me.

A Hopelessly Domestic Morning

Each year, my mom throws the grown-up equivalent of a little girl's tea party. This "Ladies' Brunch," as she has come to call it, is one of the biggest social events of her year. Typically she invites almost 30 people, plans an extensive themed menu, and cooks the entire day the day before. And to make sure everyone has a good time, these "brunches" also include some form of seemingly innocent, sweet booze.

This was the first year I would be home for this annual event, and mom had an idea to spoil me to bits. She decided that in honor of my graduation, and my future as a Spanish teacher, she would make the brunch "Spain" themed and of course, serve sangria. On the invitation, she invited everyone to bring a small kitchen gadget as a token gift for me. I love cooking, and I have all the basic cooking tools I need, but I can't get enough of all the silly, funny gadgets one can buy these days.

Saturday we spent the whole day cooking. Food in Spain isn't that delicious, most menus over there consist of ham and fish, oil, ham and more fish. Veggies and sweet treats are hard to come by. Yet we charged forward, "Americanizing" traditional dishes to make them a bit more palatable. We kept some basics- like the famed tortilla espanola, and improvised others- just using a regular honey-roasted ham instead of the weird, dry leathery ham more typical of the country. And 6 wine bottles later, we had a giant punch bowl filled with a fruity, sweet sangria.

Sunday dawned bright and beautiful. Everyone dressed in lovely spring colors, and I wore my new favorite orange dress. The guests were mostly moms and grandmas, so imagine my surprise when I saw how quickly the sangria bowl drained! These ladies came in and bee-lined for the booze. I cracked up, the guests were all former teachers, church friends, and neighbors. They were also party animals. I guess the "jungle juice" appeal lasts far after college. We had to make another bowl!

Later, as we were cleaning up the mess and putting everything away, I caught a glimpse of my pile of presents. People must have gotten mixed up- we asked for a token little gadget, but the gifts were on par for a wedding shower! It was absolutely insane. Tea sets, wine glasses, cookbook collections, bags and bags of goodies never ended. However, I did have one favorite gift...

Believe it or not, that's an apron. It's the sexiest, most domestic, 50s-era desperate housewife item that I own. When I cook in it, for boys of course, I will absolutely be in heels and red lipstick. Photos compliments of my fab art school sister!

Peace and Love!

The pain! The horror!

I am a joyful person. People have called me "annoyingly nice." Apparently, when I say "yay," it usually comes out more like "yayy hay hay hay" because I am typically laughing. But this week I learned that naive joy in life's simple pleasures can be deadly.

Mom and I went to Whitney's farm to choose flowers to plant this spring. It was a glorious day outside, and the lovely local farm buzzed with insects and smelled amazing. Much to my surprise and delight, I learned that there was a petting zoo for customers to explore. My inner child did a flip- a petting zoo! What joy! "Mom, we have to go!" I exclaimed, unbuckling and bounding out of the car. I headed straight to the little row of pens. Flower shopping could wait.

The petting zoo was a lovely place for families. Each pen had a little gumball machine filled with food nuggets you could give the animals. I eagerly dug around for quarters to stick in the machine. Unfortunately, the farm lady was one step ahead of me and had just fed the animals their lunch. My little handful of num-nums was nothing compared to the fresh hay and grain they had in their buckets. Each animal more or less shunned my attempts at friendship and feeding. Whatever, I thought. These are just the boring sheep and goats. What I was really excited for was the "grand finale" pen. It had a llama and a pony!

"Hello Llama! Yayy hay hay!" I skipped merrily over to its pen, num-nums in hand. The llama picked its head up from its bale of hay and looked right into my eyes.

"Want some nummies!?" I extended my hand of little pellets towards the animal. The llama was acting weird. It stretched its neck up tall and tilted its head backwards. For one second, I wondered if something was wrong.

Then, it happened.




"DAHHHHHHHHHHHH" I screamed. I was hit at point blank range. Let me tell you, nothing you have ever seen on America's Funniest Home videos can ever prepare you for getting "spit" on by a real llama. The "spit," was hot, thick- the consistency of hair gel- and smelled like vomit and poop combined. It was everywhere, in my hair, my face, my eyes were burning, my brand new otto-the-orange tee shirt was decked. My mom, who was witness to this nightmare, wasn't sure to laugh, cry or gag. All I could do was roll around on the ground screaming and trying not to hurl.

I made my way into the farmstand shop where I kindly asked to wash my face in the employee bathroom. To my complete horror, I saw some of this stuff stuck in my teeth. I went home and immediately showered and scrubbed every inch of me for half an hour.

In the aftermath I also did a little research. Here's what I found:

"It's called spitting only because that is the way it appears to be ejected from the llama's mouth. The accompanying sound is more like that of coughing. Although the term suggests saliva, llama spit is actually partially digested stomach contents having a smell so foul that one would think it should be brown instead of green...

...When a llama is spit upon, the accompanying smell sickens him enough to curb his appetite. When a human is spit upon, it has the affect of sending him running for the nearest shower. Fortunately this does not happen often, and if one is observant, he will respect the early warning signs that precede green rain: ears back and neck extended in an abnormal manner."

I will never, ever be the same.

Bees!

I now present to you a tale of murder and mystery...

For the first time in years, I joined my dad at the bees. We had an important mission- to assassinate the old queen bees, and replace them with new, fresh queens. As a beekeeper, you have to replace the old queen every 2 to 3 years, because she stops laying as many eggs and your beehive will shrink in size. 

Last week, Dad got the two new queens in the mail. Yes, when you order bees, they package them in little boxes covered in screen, and send them to you via the United States Postal Service. As soon as he could, he introduced the new queen bees to the hives. Normally, the beekeeper must squish the old queen. Then, the bees release the new queen from her little screen box by chewing through a candy "door." She emerges and takes over the hive. 

Finding the queen is sometimes a needle in a haystack situation. When you order a queen through the mail, she'll have a brightly colored dot painted on her and is usually easier to find among the 10s of thousands of bees in the hive. But sometimes, the bees replace the store-bought queen themselves, and then the beekeeper has to find a big, fat, natural bee colored like all the rest. You might look through every inch of your beehive and never see her. And the more you take apart a beehive, the angrier the bees get. 

Well, dad was able to find and "assassinate" the old queen in my hive and replace her successfully, but he couldn't find the old queen in his hive. What could he do? He couldn't leave the new queen in her little screen box. There was no other choice. He put the new, young queen in there anyways, figuring that a battle between the old queen and new queen would ensue. The bees would eat through the candy door, and the new queen would emerge to take on the old lady in charge. He hoped for the best. 

This week, when we opened the hives, we saw the results of the battle: The new queen didn't have a fighting chance. She and her worker bees were murdered in their little box before they had a chance to find the old queen for a fair fight! That poor little virgin queen had her candy door opened all right- but she didn't even make it one step out into the hive. She was cornered and attacked! We found the little body with its bright yellow dot dead as a doornail. The unmarked queen will have to reign on one year longer. We didn't find her this week either. Regardless, both hives are very healthy and we're sure to have a huge spring honey harvest this year. 

Yes, this is my life. I swear I'll make it living in a city.

Plodding along

My mom predicted that it would be one week before I was bored of being home. Well, I'm not quite there yet- thanks in part to a few silly events that marked the last week.

First and foremost, since it's on my mind- my sister and I finally went and saw Star Trek. We were waiting for each other to get home from school to see it and went on a sister date this afternoon. I have a few comments: the movie was fun and campy, but you can only really appreciate it if you're a true "Trekkie." Kate and I had gigantic grins painted across our face for the good first hour of the flick. "Oh gosh, it's Kirk's Dad! It's gonna be Dr. McCoy, watch!" We were just plain giddy, brought back with warp speed to our nerdy childhood. Secondly (This is directed at you, fellow peers of Nessacus Regional Middle School) Spock is still the hot one in the film, and I've turned out socially normal. So there.

Mom, Kate and I went on a shopping spree to the outlets yesterday. If you are reading this, and appreciate the great institution known as "Banana Republic," get in your car and find your nearest outlet NOW. The entire store was 40% off, including clearance. It was teacher-clothes heaven. I did have a hard time discerning between "want" and "need." In the end, it turned out that I needed everything that fit me ;-)

Otherwise, beyond the beautiful weather, the pilates videos, the runs, and the constant studying- life has been pretty quiet. No, I'm not bored yet. But give me a few more days. I'll get there!

Peace and Love- and enjoy the graduation pictures below!

The End of the Line

It was a beautiful, sunny weekend. The families arrived in droves, the food and drinks flowed freely. Everyone dressed to the nines, and cameras flashed on proud families. Was graduation great? In many ways, yes. But in many ways...

It was horrible. 

So, let's start with the good. The family arrived on Friday night, past the dinnertime rush. I met everyone at the never-fail Knights Inn, where we decided to rally for a drink or two at Tulley's. The restaurant was still hopping at 9:30 pm with hungry grads and their families. Service was slow, but company was great. I was so happy to see Mom, Dad, Grandma and Grandpa. It was after drinks with the family that I started having the sense that things were really over: Stacey and I headed for what we hoped would be a glorious and raucous night at Chuck's. In actuality, it was the most bizarre bar night I've ever witnessed. Washed up moms followed their daughters to the bar, the people I wanted to see weren't there, and there was a general sense of doom about the place. I actually couldn't wait to get home- the experience just seemed somewhat morose. I knew, right then, that it was over. Chuck's would never, ever be the same ever again. 

Saturday was HOT. Sticky and humid, it was a great day for a cute dress but a terrible day for a cap and gown. The Newhouse ceremony was at noon in the Dome, and Stacey, Stephanie and my PR friend Sara found seats by my side. Long, aggravating speeches dragged on. A pompous journalist went on a soapbox about atrocities in Vietnam, and the new Dean made a speech about- of all things- the career services office. The whole thing was uninspiring and the cherry on top was when I crossed the stage to the announcement of 'Tori Horse-Stein." 

Luckily, post grad festivities were much better. Instead of trying to find a place to go for lunch and dinner, my family booked it immediately after the ceremony back to the Knight's Inn. There, beers, whisky sours, wine and tons of food awaited the partying family. The Canandaigua clan joined the fun, and Justin came along looking handsome in his new duds. 

That night, the party raged on in the Carrier Dome for the Dinner Dance. This had to be the best choice the family made all weekend. The Dome looked spectacular, and families ate a delicious dinner and danced to a full orchestra. Everything sounded amazing and I even found the perfect orange dress for the occasion. The end of the night, however, brought that same impending feeling of doom. The party was really over- the guests trickled away from the dance floor and Justin and I headed back to his apartment for one last peaceful night in each other's company. 

Sunday really was the end. Joe Biden's speech to the huge graduating class encouraged us to go out and change the world. I was excited as he mentioned by name Teach For America- it somehow felt like he was talking to me! I felt like I had made the right choice. The ceremony on Sunday was actually much nicer than the Saturday one. This one had beautiful vocalists and inspiring speeches. I really enjoyed everything I heard. Shortly after the ceremony, the family packed up and went home- only mom stayed to help me pack. 

Post-graduation, Syracuse felt like a zombie town. None of my friends had left yet, but everyone was just drifting around, emotionless. Drained emotionally and physically from the weekend, it was with a sigh of relief that I pulled out of 329 Comstock's parking lot. It was really, really over. Even ABC News said as much, in a piece that I was lucky enough to get a bit in: http://abcnews.go.com/video/playerIndex?

id=7553303

I am so lucky to have an incredible, supportive family. I'm blessed to have found such sweet and true friends: and dare I say, yes, my future bridesmaids! I count graduation weekend as a joyful one, but also a tremendously sad moment. Am I really ready for this incredible task that I'm diving into? It seems unfair that I have to leave my friends, my boyfriend, and my joyful and carefree life behind so soon. But at the same time- I'm ready. And I wish only the best for all of them as we head out on separate paths. 

Peace and Love.