dot something

The weather has been so fickle today. Fat drops, light ones, sun beams, gray. I worked for three hours in a fifth grade classroom at my old elementary school this morning. It's a strange, subtle feeling I get being at Westhoff. Normally when I walk into a school the secretary asks me if I'm a student or a sub. They spit a little laugh into my face, and say, "Oh, good, the room's right over there." At Westhoff the office lady is still the same. She enquires about my family, and has a lovely smile.

Today, out of 35 students, one was Egyptian, two were Caucasian, and the rest were of Asian descent. I'm not sure what the exact racial background was when I went there. Indeed, the "make-up" has changed; the majority is vast. My college friend Stella told me she read in the LA Times that Chinese diplomats have moved to Walnut to learn about our cities government for the benefit of their own. I haven't researched this further, but I do wonder what makes Walnut distinctly attractive in this respect.

When I was in high school a news station came to report the utopian-like diversity of our community. I recall writing my essay to get into college with this vision of my background in mind. Growing up in Walnut instilled in me and my peers a great sense of multiculturalism. I feel reluctant to put it out there, but I’m curious if this sense is still enabled in environments such as the one at my old elementary school.

A few months ago I was heading out to a spot called the Library Bar with a dear friend of mine and some others. One girl acted shocked that I could’ve grown up in Walnut. As they spoke in their native language, I recall one of them saying, “She must be used to hearing it, living in Walnut.”

I didn’t feel awkward as an outsider. In fact, I felt very much on the inside, even if they did speak frankly about the difference in our descents. I’m sure the minorities in the classroom today feel the same. They may not know an Asian language or the family dynamics of their peers. But I’m certain they still view Walnut as their community.

I found it interesting last week. A teacher at another elementary school in the area had a pamphlet for the new “Buddhist church” to open on a street lined with other religious institutions of Christian origin. Some community members had voiced their concern about the architecture of the building—would it be as prominently Asian looking as the Buddhist temple in Hacienda Heights? Thankfully to some, the new facility would look more like a community center than a religious building. And what do you know, it’s also being called a church.

A friend of my mom recently wrote a book about Barack Obama’s position in the upcoming presidential election. The author, Shelby Steele, marks Obama a “bound man,” incapable of rising above the “politics of guilt and innocence generated by our painful racial history.”

In conversation with my grandpa this weekend, a former superintendent of schools through the eras of segregation and integration, he exposed his view that there are simply too many Americans who cannot see beyond the color of Obama’s skin, thereby making him unelectable. If America were to elect Obama, we may be viewed by the world as a nation who’s defied the force of racism.

I’d like to continue in my thoughts. Unfortunately I must squirm in the suburban traffic to get to my next location…

dot 6

I'm doubting the ability to type with fingers as frigid as mine. Why a home is so cold is beyond me. Today was spent with the children; sweet, concerned, conniving children. I was roving, meaning that wherever I was needed to relieve a teacher, I would be. 1st graders, pasting standarized testing scores into student files, 4th graders, 2nd graders. A day that sucks a certain juice out of me.

After an hour with questioning, "low group" 9 year olds, all willing and desperate to know the division of decimals without even understanding 20-18, or 5x3, I then went to count beans with 7 year olds also struggling with the concepts of adddition. It struck me as draining. The 7 year olds' teacher had an incentive method though. Get an answer, collect a pretzel! This seemed appealing at first, directing the children with pretzels. It quickly got old. Especially when I wanted to bark at the girl who asked in her sweet, syrupy voice But if we do this, can we get a pretzel?

"ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO ASK THOSE SORTS OF QUESTIONS...YOU?"

They expect me to know their names. Sometimes for the naive ones, nametags provide them with such disbelief. I can read your mind, sweet one. Then a saavier kid will chime in and let the truth hang out.

I was enquiring to my boyfriend the other day if he remembered when he lost his belief in Santa Claus. He recalled the moment sharply, when Heather DeFeather had blabbed the truth out in class. Crushed. My student Alex eagerly asked me the other day what I got from Santa Claus this year. Money and some earrings. That's it? A creme brulee machine. HAHAH, money! he laughed. I had a feeling he was squirming away his loss of faith.

Spending an hour with a 7 year old and then another with a 4 year old every day can be something else. I'd like to report that Brian, the little one, presented phonemic awareness today. I was peachy. A is for Apple and Q is for Queen. I won't deny that it was the Hooked on Phonics program that made it all transpire. I decided today was the day we focus on letter sounds instead of names, and with the flashy computer screen and power mouse controller, he was on his way. It was enlivening to be a part of. Then he demanded I read two books, instead of barely getting through one. Hurricanes and tornadoes, topics that he fancies.

Now I'm watching Jack Nicholson in his sexy years as a cuckold's detective in Chinatown. The bath is seducing me with all its heat energy potential. I'm curious what happened to the popularity of a broach.

dot five

on this winter day in january i'm lying out in the sun. green mountains, a long white picket fence in the distance, glaring blue pool water in my short view. dynamic clouds.

i took an exam this morning to become a teacher of adolescents. quite a long, fat exam. rich with important knowledge, i now conclude.

to know the colonization of California, the science of a lunar eclipse, the necessary cognitative development of a child. to be familiar with post- World War II economy, the personification in Neruda's prose, the discussion of force and gravity.

let's hope i passed.

in the next one-half year of my life, i am free to do whatever i want. in this moment, i believe i know what that means. things sometimes can become muddled. however right now is where i ought to be.

dy·nam·ic /daɪˈnæmɪk/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[dahy-nam-ik] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation
–adjective Also, dy·nam·i·cal.

1. pertaining to or characterized by energy or effective action; vigorously active or forceful; energetic: the dynamic president of the firm.
2. Physics.
a. of or pertaining to force or power.
b. of or pertaining to force related to motion.
3. pertaining to the science of dynamics.
4. of or pertaining to the range of volume of musical sound.
5. Computers. (of data storage, processing, or programming) affected by the passage of time or the presence or absence of power: Dynamic memory must be constantly refreshed to avoid losing data.
6. Grammar. nonstative. –noun
7. a basic or dynamic force, esp. one that motivates, affects development or stability, etc.

what a multi-faceted word.