how to save the world

I think one of the most noble and necessary things individuals, families, communities, societies, governments, intergovernmental associations can do is to incorporate others' self-interest with their own.

This is what makes families work. This is what can quench the violence that robs young adults of their lives, what can reverse the impoverishment of desperate communities that are made invisible to the consciousness of the comfortable class, what can soothe the conflicts that drain nations of their wealth. This is why charity (in the pure love of Christ sense, not in the tax-deductible contribution sense) is powerful: when I love you, your self-interest actually becomes mine and your happiness becomes my intrinsic motivation.

I know it's not that simple, and I know it's obvious, but this is my important realization for the weekend.

Do you ever smile?

Today, one of my students in one of my new classes that I taught for the second time just today asked me this question, which I ignored: "Do you ever smile? do you ever laugh?"

YESSSSSS!!!!!

If you know me well, you know this is a BIG accomplishment. ;)

I've actually been very serious at work.

(By the way, the reason my blog is called Savanna still smiles is that my parents may have gotten my name from a movie called Savannah Smiles, which is about this little rich girl that gets kidnapped and is so cute and sweet that she melts her captors' hearts--just like me, correct? Savanna smiles, but Ms. Nilsen does not, at least not for a few more successful class periods with this new set of kids.)

(And the still in Savanna still smiles comes from something else, which I may write about when I possess the appropriate amount of gravity.)

it's a fact

This graph, from 0 to probably half an hour before 9, represents actual amounts of sleep I've gotten before a day of teaching. The zero to 4s were HARD weeks. Yes, weeks.

The dependent variable and proposed relationship may/may not be true and/or meaningful. But I had this strange impulse to create a graph using Microsoft Paint--which, by the way, has improved a lot since the last time I used it.

guilt

I have to send my mission president some photos and as I've been looking through them tonight, the foremost thing I've felt is regret for all the things I know very well I could have and should have done better and the people I should have done better at loving. This annoys me because I know most of my work and relationships there were good. Why do I do this to myself? Does anyone know what I mean?

And now to lighten the mood, here's a sequence of photos. Sister Mesake and I had birthdays a week apart (November 10, that's right, mark it in your digital calendar. It's only weeks away.). The elders brought us exactly two cupcakes (I did ask them where the other 10 went). I found this hilarious when we did it; I find it hilarious tonight.

a title is a first impression that i'm hesitant to make right now

Because I want to be emotionally resilient and loyal to my record of boldly doing intimidating things on my own, I have been avoiding using this word
lonely
but I have disliked Miami over the past couple of weeks and it has to stop and I don't think it will until I confront
lonely
as it stands before me.
Plus, I doubt that I had my faithful audience fooled.

:)

Allow me to explain: most of the people in my YSA branch are younger and live with their families about 30-40 minutes away from me and speak mostly Spanish. They generally definitely buy into pop culture more than I do. They often go out together to eat in big, lively, chatting groups after activities. By contrast, I moved out seven years ago. I take life really seriously and need really deep connections with people. There is only one other returned sister missionary. We get along well. She lives with her family like half an hour away. Everyone is really so so friendly. I don't understand, though, how I can form those meaningful relationships without more common ground. And I know that sounds selfish.

Today in Sunday School, one of the guys who attends the same Sunday morning meetings I do was accessing a Koran app on his iPhone. He was also talking about something interesting about the Koran he saw on the Discovery Channel. You know this means my hope regarding the previous paragraph immediately shot up. :) But I can't really tell him he's my numero uno prospect for a great friend. Haha.

I have some especially solid friendships with people in my program, but our ideas of how to use weekends differ greatly to the point where I need to severely limit my time with them. I will leave you to make inferences there. It's really important to me to be in wholesome environments, not just avoid behaviors that take place in more permissive environments. Sigh, in other words, I'm just weird.

And then there's the city. I hope I can figure out how my intellectual self fits in with Miami's urban glam. I think that's going to involve lots of exploring and trying lots of new things, which I can definitely handle. But if I'm to maximize the fun, I have to convince others that what I like to do is actually interesting. ;)

Current ambitions include driving around the design district photographing murals (okay, I can handle urbanity), snorkeling as often as possible, camping in the Everglades, taking dance lessons again (free in Boston; $10-15 a session in Miami), ethnic food, the 2010 opera season, getting a beach cruiser, using the faculty gym after school, moonlight ocean swimming. I must must must must learn Spanish. I think I'm also starting a Master's of Science in Education and Social Change next semester. Being in a university setting will definitely make me feel like I'm in my element. And I have a pretty great calling, which if I pay more attention to it, can be very rewarding.

This concrete gift has arrived despite my feelings of isolation despite being surrounded: I have tremendous clarity regarding what I want out of life and the people that are in it over the next several years.

By the way--while I appreciate that, yes, things will get better, I'm not the defeatist "things will get better eventually" type. I'm the "make things better now" type.

(I'm also mildly terrified, if that is possible, that after all this I'll find I'm not actually interested in education reform, and that international relations is what it always claimed to be, my true passion. I'll address that at an indefinite later.)

I saw France

Tee hee, I'm writing at school, delighted that I found an interesting portal to the internet that somehow has not yet been blocked. I may be terminated from the blogosphere in a few minutes.

Yesterday, in the middle of class, student, A., stood up but his pants fell down, leaving me with a sudden view of his plaid underclothes. He was in the back of the class and he and I were the only two people that noticed. A. looked at me with an urgent, silent plea to not react, and I just said calmly that I saw nothing. No student who watched my face when it happened would have even known that anything had happened, and no one wondered what I was talking about.

I am a wonderful teacher.

it's too quiet

*I guess I was wrong about not being able to finish, because I wrote another few lines. I guess the sentiment lasted longer than a couple of hours.

It's Too Quiet

I wasn't lonely 'til the rain came,
drops on the glass the only sound.
But what I want to hear is my name
while I am driving you around.

I thought that this was what I wanted,
thought I could go out on my own.
Thought I could fly, but I am grounded.
Don't want to do this all alone.

Now there's a palm tree out my window.
Against the moon, I guess it's nice.
But it also casts a shadow,
A doubt that I can do this right.

1. A writer who wants to keep her ideas keeps a notebook on her nightstand or in her purse rather than scribbling on napkins at dinner (guilty) or receipts while waiting in line (and guilty). I've discovered a voice recorder on my phone that fulfills a similar purpose for when I'm driving (or moonlight power walking on the beach...it's therapeutic) and I find a companionship of lyrics and a simple melody on my mind. If I were Missy Higgins or Casey Cotter, someone else would hear what I recorded on my phone. But since I am Savanna and I actually don't know how to compose music, it will endure only as words.

That was song-downgraded-to-unfinished poem. Nope, it's not directed at anyone. The ideas came as a package and I unfolded them. I stepped outside tonight and realized that driving to a stranger's house and buying their desk and bringing it home to assemble it (and many other things in life) is a lot more fun if you're hanging out with someone.

And you know what? It's not great, but I want to keep it. And I might even finish it.

2. Somewhere there is a book that I carried around as my poetry journal for a few years. Most of the things I wrote were unfinished. My closest friend my freshman year used to tease me about this. He said I should create a book of unfinished poetry, finishable by the reader, for my honors project (which project I never did). If I don't finish a poem within the sitting where I wrote it, it probably will never be finished. Inspiration must be in the room with me.

Actually, I think I'll go look for that book.

to purify the heart's bitter ashes

While I'm at it...I wrote this my sophomore year at BYU for Dr. Ludlow's Isaiah class. Writing it led to some important events in my life. It's based on chapter 53. No I will not fix the capitalization and punctuation. :)

His birth? Not a surprise
His coming not a mystery
For they
They the prophets
have uttered
The promise
Of a Savior.
It may as well
Have been a whisper,
For those who should receive
Would not believe.
He came,
The promised Savior,
Who grew up in the desert,
Who was cultivated
by the word
And nurtured by the example
Of his perfect Father;
Cherished raised taught
by his lovely mother
in the land
barren of truth -
The truth he'd learn,
The truth necessary
to teach the world
And to show the Father's way.
His smile wasn't dazzling.
He didn't command respect.
The people didn't notice
When he shopped at market
Or sold Joseph's works
Or walked the streets of Nazareth.
But he noticed us,
the people all around.
He recognized
Lamenting eyes
He healed
The Sightless
Comforted
The Friendless
Sheltered
The Cold
With a soothing touch
And an affirmation
Of the soul's completion.
We were writhing
Without effect
In the clutches of the
Irreprehensible
law of justice
and condemned
to the cause of death,
the keys to our safety
long melted,
fused unusable,
Hope dripping,
Escaping through the pores
Of the concrete
prison
walls
which
ensured
our
captivity.
Walls which could never be broken
Except by a God
Who is broken bruised torn
Laid to rest
By the grievances
Toward his Father
Which He did not perform.
Compelled not by any force,
He submitted himself
As the necessary
unblemished gift.
A decision
Dictated
By love
For the creation-children
Of His Father.
Descended below all
That he may lift above
Experienced perfect deficiency
That we may become whole
Loved every sinner
That each may become clean
Adopted every insult
Against eternity
That its aching
Might be consoled.
The griefs we bear
The sorrows we carry
Disappointment
That
Hurts more than a burn,
Burns more than a torch.
The torch makes wounds aware;
Exposing
Emptiness,
Opening
aged scars.
Healing is ours
Rich sweet beautiful
Melting running flowing
To enclose
Each pain;
To swathe
Each craving
For fullness;
To purify
The heart's bitter ashes.
Healing is ours
pacifying, replacing every pain.
And so
As He outstretched his hand,
His healing hand,
To renovate
A shattered
Tabernacle of clay,
He offers his hand
Now
An immediate offering
To steal away
The tears
That corrupt our mortal eyes.
An offering motivated
Only by the possibility
That he
May hold me
May hold you
May hold every being
In his arms
Past the regulatory bar
And the threshold of the throne.
Forever united
As mutual victors
Over the enemies
That once had threatened
To scream against
The peaceful silence
Of forever love
And Eternal repose.

November 20, 2003

some highlights from school

I've been the instructional leader of room 233 for two whole weeks. Wouldn't you like to know what's been going on? A comprehensive report will never happen, but here are some of my favorite moments. In chronological order.

1. I was NOT expecting this! My first note from my program director. I carried it around with me for a few minutes after I read it. He left it on his way out of his observation of my class Thursday during first week of school. I was expecting "hey Savanna, your lesson was actually boring, and you should have responded to those two students this way." He visited during my first period class. If Tom would have attended my 5th or 6th period class, his song would have been different. By the way Tom, I love my kids too!



2. My executive director came to observe my class this week. The note she left said this was the funniest thing she'd ever seen:

Ms N: Everyone point at the new poster in the room. Can I have a silent volunteer read the new poster?
Some student: "'No one has written your destiny for you. Your destiny is in your hands, and don't you forget that.' --President Barack Obama
Ms N: What does this quote mean?
Students: You are in charge of your life. You control your future. And so on.
Ms N: Everyone point at the person in this room who controls your life
Most students: [point at themselves]
Contingent of students in the corner of the room: [point at the ceiling]
Ms N: [what are they doing?] No! Point at the person in this room who controls your life.
Students in the corner: [continue to point at the ceiling]
Ms N: No! Who has control over your life?
Students in the corner: God!
Ms N: [pause...] I hadn't factored that in.

3. G, 6th grader, who smiles so big when she understands something. Walking by me as I guide the line to lunch: Ms Nilsen, you look pretty today. I like the color of your eyes.
Ms N on the inside: [moved to tears] G, that is so sweet! Thank you so much! Little people are mean to me all day and then you say something like that and it makes everything better and it means so much to me.
Ms N on the outside: [very professionally, composed, with a coating of distance] Why thank you, G. THat's very kind of you.

4. Next. We're filling out a guided notes page on comparing hurricanes and tornadoes.
One of my students, very urgently: How do you know all this?

:)

deliverance

"At the end of the day, it's actually not about you."
--my TforA summer school director

I started reading the Book of Mormon from page one tonight since the stake president said today at stake conference that one of his goals is for everyone to read it by December 31, 2009. If every session goes as it did tonight, what will be foremost on my mind while reading will be the students that I will meet as they enter my classroom tomorrow.

I have never before realized how captivating an introduction Nephi gave to his family's saga: he writes that the residents of Jerusalem were angry with Lehi, mocked him, sought to cast him out, stone him, slay him, take away his life. It's a pretty clear indication of the near-impossibilities they encountered.

Nephi immediately contrasts this account of grave obstacles with a statement of confidence, one grounded in real experience from his life. "But behold, I, Nephi, will show unto you that the tender mercies of the Lord are over all those whom he hath chosen, because of their faith, to make them mighty even unto the power of deliverance." -1 Nephi 1:20. If I was reading this for the first time, I might be curious, intrigued, but sharing the author's perspective on what he actually had experienced was remarkable. It triggered a remember-how-merciful-the-Lord-hath-been response that brought hope and promise to my own obstacle-ridden venture into education reform.

Tonight, the promise of deliverance is not about me. I understand what I need to do to attain it for myself, and I am not worried about it. My concern is the kind of captivity that keeps these children in poverty, that says that only 49% of them will graduate high school, that moves to stifle their expectations of themselves, that limits their opportunity to access the brilliance and humanity and divinity that I know each of them has. I am a beginning teacher who really has little idea of what it takes to succeed as a teacher, let alone as a teacher in an urban setting. I need something beyond my own preparation and even beyond my training. I need to become mighty even unto the power of deliverance. That is not my power. I think it starts with faith.

[these things I cannot write on my TforA blog. Can you imagine...? :) ]

a note or two from the day

I think that writing about my TFA experience so far is a lost cause. Let's just say this has been and will be one of the most special times of my life. Just a few misorganized notes on today:

I sat with some people I didn't know at lunch. One teacher was from Argentina; one from Cuba; one from Chile. The one from Cuba turned to the others and said "doesn't she just glow?" Puzzled, I asked her to repeat herself. "You have a glow. A healthy living glow." I thought that was a Sunday School myth, that people actually say that.

Also, another teacher addressed me using the title Cutie Pie.

As usual, I'm behind all the other TFA corps members in getting my classroom and plans first-day ready. This experience, just to warn you, brings a person into a most painful awareness of her weaknesses. I think I figured out why I don't work efficiently: I am reluctant to commit to something if I don't believe in it or love it. So I pore over ideas; I revise sentences; I revise words; I change the font from 12 point to 14 to 10.5; I write classroom rules, resent them, and devise new ones. I work for a long time but get little accomplished. Unless I am fully engaged--then I produce. This must must must must change. Teaching must burn it out of my personality.

Here's what I do have. My current rules are Be respectful. Be proactive. Be responsible. They were more complicated before, but I changed them and then made a poster of them so that I wouldn't be tempted to change them anymore. I'm going to have students create examples of what this looks like in action, as well as feed them with my own vision of what it means.

• Side story: One reason I finally committed to these rules. The word proactive means a lot to me. I know, weird. It's because my school director this summer was a pretty solid Savanna fan. This was confusing because I really didn't shine at anything during summer school. There is no way I would have made it on the "this is why they're hot" board illustrating different teachers' strengths. I got less sleep than most people spending more hours on work that wasn't as good. This general incompetence would have been overwhelming for me if not for this relationship and the one my corps member advisor and I established. Anyway, upon learning that my school director often talked about me on the way back to campus from our summer school site and that he really appreciated me (okay, my source used much more emphatic language, but I won't), I eased him into a conversation about why. His response? "Savanna, everyone loves you. [Me: huh?] You're [something. happy? enthusiastic?], genuine and proactive. I gave you a nickname (Savannarator 2000)." And so on. Proactive. Yes I think I would love my rules if they said that. And certainly my students won't know what it means. I might pitch it like this: be professional at being active, in helping people, in solving problems, in owning your future.
• Completely off topic, but from the same night when we were saying see-ya-someday: my advisor said "Savanna, I'm going to miss you. I didn't see you coming." That was probably one of my favorite things I've heard someone say. Ha. I miss them. Time-and-space machine, please.
  

Back on topic. I think I've finally settled on a classroom theme. College-bound Science Investigators Miami. I actually like this first because I recently discovered a channel called Sleuth TV, where either Law and Order: SVU or CSI Miami or something like that is always on. Also, high school graduation rate in my district is about 50% if I remember accurately. My students need to have higher expectations. Plus the word investigators brings in the critical thinking aspect that I really want to help them develop. That is a gift that I do not have yet.

I met one of my students today. I just saw her wandering and asked her name and remembered it from studying my rosters earlier. She instantly became the most interesting person in the world to me. Magic is going to happen this year if that's how I felt about just one little person.

Also, I'm not scared of being in the classroom. Believe it or not, I was actually very serious while teaching this summer. Like I don't think I even laughed in front of my students. I know, right? But I didn't get to know my students very well over summer school and I'm so excited for that. For the little moments when I know I've helped one person, or twenty. What hugely intimidates me is planning and having to be creative and being tired.

And how long is it going to take to snap out of my I'm-shy-and-intimidated-because-I-don't-know-what-I'm-doing-and-I'm-not-myself phase? I don't like it and it took 2 full weeks of instruction to get out of it over the summer.

And that is where I suddenly stop writing.

PS I've noticed that the tone of my posts is largely introspective. In other words, I write about myself a lot. Please bear with me while I use myself as a subject for understanding humanity. :) Though using an atypical subject to represent a very large group of people is a bad science mistake.