Sesame Streets --A Martin Scorsese Film


Shoo away the little ones, it contains adult language.

The Barista Sharpens His Talons

Stopped off for coffee Saturday and spent a moment chatting with the two baristas. One was a young guy, still in HS, taking concurrent enrollment at Community College.

He plans to attend Oklahoma Baptist to be a youth minister. We talked about the ins and outs of my alma mater. Classes, the dorms, the cafeteria, all of this was fascinating to him from my perspective, even seventeen years later.

He was rather proud of the jump start he was getting on his degree by taking classes now. He took special pride in telling me about the Comparative Religion class he was taking at Community College.

"After all, how will I ever beat anyone in a debate if I don't know the other
side?"

*Sigh* Yes, Sparky, and after you "beat them", they'll really want to accept your message. They'll know we are Christians because we beat 'em!!!

Where The Sweet Potato Casserole Is

I've had several conversations in the past weeks about the colorful names I know. In thinking of how to blog them, I thought about giving you a list and asking you to pick which ones are fake (If you picked Coon and Ollie Pearl, you're wrong!). I thought about telling you the story of my PaPa's brothers and all their nicknames (The oldest one, his Christian name was Buster. He went by Bully...). All these hypothetical entries existed only so I could share the response deadpanned to me by The Crib Chick...

How do you not live in a Billie Letts novel?

I probably do, and talking through this year's Thanksgiving Road Show/Grief Tour (tm) with my sister confirmed it.

Educat: So dinner is at Granny's and we're taking it to her.
Edusis: Yeah, then we need to go by familyfriend's because Texas Nana is in
town. We're taking a pie. After that, we're going to see Bobby.
Educat: Bobby? Bobby who? Do we have to take more pies? Another
casserole?
Edusis: Um...no. We're going to see Bobby, the movie.

Weee Gaather Together To Reeead Thelatestcompellingnewsabouteducation

The Carnival of Education has pitched its tent at What It's Like On The Inside. Go check it out. I'm the one on the end eating pie with Darren. Who is Darren? What kind of pie is it? Find all the answers and more---head over there and bring a casserole.

Check The List, Dude. You're On Notice

I had a sub Friday afternoon. He covered Debate while I was teaching English in the afternoon. Evidently, he walked into third hour twenty minutes late, told the kids he'd be right back, and left for another twenty. Fourth hour, he held the sheet on which my lesson plans were written and told the kids I hadn't left any plans. They watched a movie.

I was told it could have been worse. One sub in our building regales the students with poetry he's written about Elizabeth Taylor. He's submitting them to the National Enquirer.

Start! The Bus! Start Start The Bus!!

We are taking all the English II students to a local production of Julius Caesar this week. The company is doing a matinee for students and so we are loading up a bus, taking kids to the play and lunch, and hopefully coming home with zero casualties.

Read this with no sarcasm: I am so excited I can't stand it.

I took a little survey when I had all the kids on Friday and found that for most, this is their first time to see a play that isn't a school production. Some of the kids haven't even seen a school play. This is their first ever live theatre experience. This is a big deal to me. I take very seriously the duty to get these kids to the theatre because I owe much of who I am to a teacher who took her students to the theatre.

My mother grew up poor. I realize I run the risk of sounding like the long lost verse of the Clarence Carter song, but culture wasn't much of a priority when it was difficult to feed four kids. She had a teacher in Junior High, however, who took her class to a play. That doesn't sound like a very big deal, but it really was.

See, because my mother enjoyed that play, she suggested that my Dad take her a play sometimes when they dated. Then when they got married and had a family, they made it a priority to take us to plays.

And so, the monster was created.

My parents took us to see Annie when I was eight years old. By this time, I was already showing signs of ham actor-dom. I was very verbal very early and former babysitters often tell stories of my dying swan act at bedtime. When I saw that play and realized that those were actual kids on that stage, I knew I had to figure out how to do that. All the time.

That outing begat a series of acting classes, school productions, voracious play reading, and Oscar acceptance speech planning (heady stuff for a pre-teen, I know). When the time came for college, my parents accepted my wish to major in Theatre with the caveat that I get an education degree.

The rest is history (and my present). I student taught, realized that I loved this job and loved paying off student loans. It's grown from teaching Theatre for me to teaching kids. I have taught a lot of stuff in these thirteen years and the rush I get from all of them is similar. It all goes back to that play, however. My mom doesn't remember what the play was, I don't know how important that is, but it started a new way of looking at the world for her. I don't know who I would be today if that teacher hadn't loaded up that bus.

I hope we get through the day without incident. I hope no cell phones go off, no one misses the bus, and that no one wears houseshoes. I hold out hope also that there might be a seed of change on our bus.

HowManyOfMe.com

There are: 1,090 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

Loving Rome More

This started as an email to my two favorite Air Force wives. I decided it needed a larger audience.

I taught all the English II students yesterday. I taught 190 kids in three class periods. It's sort of the price you pay for spending a month doing nothing but Shakespeare. You get to be the expert.

We're taking all of these kids to a production of Julius Caesar next week. I have more to say about this later, in a loving post about another family member. Today is a different story. What you need to know here is that I used the time to do a quick orientation to the play and to live theatre in general before we took them to see the show.

It wasn't a perfect day by any means. There were kids who expressed how oppressed they were because we're asking them to leave their ipods at home and turn off their cell phones while dressed up and not allowed to leave the auditorium for two hours. I had to address why it's not a good idea to assert that Brutus is a pimp (I instead pointed them to the idea that Marc Antony is more of a pimp). But in every class period, I caught a couple of kids with that vague smile, mouth slightly open, head tilted to the side that indicated that they got it.

Most of them, however, latched onto one idea. All the Senators who conspired to kill Caesar were his friends. They didn't get it. Their entire lives right now are about protecting their friends, how could anyone who is considered honorable ever conspire to murder their friends?

I am not comfortable with murder. I am not comfortable with violence. My job, however, is to illuminate this literature and I will always get chills down my spine when I give the reason for this murder. "Not that I love Caesar less, but that I love Rome more." These men were so committed to the idea of the Republic, of self government, that no relationship mattered more. The kids are starting to get their heads around this idea.

At the end of the day, we gathered in the gym for the Veteran's Day assembly. It occurred to me sitting in that gym that perhaps this event was the perfect closure for my lesson that day. We spent an hour hearing from and honoring men and women who love Rome more.

When a soldier enters the military, the whole family enlists in a sense. This Veteran's Day, I think not only of both of my grandfathers, one of whom made a career in the US Air Force, but I think of my Grandma, aunts and uncles, and (surprise!) my father, who all served their country in countless separations and cross country moves. I think not only of The Crib Chick's Sergeant Rooster, but of her and all those peeps. I think not only of my baby cousin who can't possibly be old enough to be sent to Afghanistan, but of his baby and of my aunt who will raise him while his father is gone.

I cannot fully understand it, but I get a chill when I think of how all of these people love Rome more.

Thank you.

Obligatory Election Day Post With This Year's Obligatory Twist

For my sister, it was impossibly hard to watch the Cardinals, the family baseball team since at least my great grandfather, win the World Series.

For me, it's election day.

I took today off and had a very clear picture of what the day would have been if Dad were still with us. I'd have picked him up and taken him for coffee. We'd both go vote, probably me first and then we'd head to his polling place. After that, we'd have lunch at one of the dives that no one else in the family would go to. We'd joke the whole way about the two of us canceling the rest of the family's votes. Then I would take him home and we'd laugh about the Food Network (All my theories on how the other Food Network stars make fun on Sandra Lee behind her back or how I want to smack Rachel Ray and tell her to pipe down are bits I tried first on him.).

In real life, I voted, made all those jokes in my head, went to Target, and drove around the cemetery trying to remember just where in the damn we left him. I never found him, can't remember if it's the Garden of Everlasting Life or the Garden of Memories or the Garden of the Clean Plate Club. I wanted to tell him what we'd have done today and how we're doing now. I wanted to tell him about my classes and my month in Massachusetts.

I saw Helen Mirren in The Queen this weekend. At the beginning of the film, there is a scene in which Queen Elizabeth ceremonially asks Tony Blair (played by Michael Sheen) to form a government. I had never thought of such a scene and it was fascinating to me.

In the United States, we are the ones who get to ask that question. It was hard to ask today, but I am glad I did.

Seriously, Nuttin To See Here

At this time, I offer my sincere apologies to the poor soul who reached this blog today by Googling the phrase "See my boobs OKC". I hope you make a quick and full recovery from your severe disappointment.

Dead Dad Girl's Club Meeting Minutes

I could name a thousand things that have gotten me through the last few months. Chief among them, however, is my band of friends who have also lost their fathers. I'll listen to you if you have a father, sure. But there's something about someone who can say "Yeah, I might be nearly as pitiful and insane as you". I call these kind souls the Dead Dad Girl's Club.

I have also coined the term Dead Daddy Year. I am allowing myself many wild acts or acts of slackery in honor of the Dead Daddy Year.

I've been down this week. I needed to meet with a member of the DDGC . I called Mme. Crib for solace. As are all our conversations, it's punctuated by interruptions from the kids.

"What? What? The door is closed here, I need you to go ask your father. You
have a father, go."

"And I don't!!!"

"Wha? Oh, no, not you. You don't have a father."

"Right, but not what I meant. You should tell the kids that. 'You have a
father and I don't! Go to him!'"

"I might just do that!"