Savanna's #1 need this summer: rejuvenation through being around people who love me. I think I'll do something very unexpected, unSavannalike, and go to the Rocky Mountain West. Take my sisters on a road trip. Camp out on the trampoline with my little brothers. Talk to my parents. Visit old friends. Read some books. Hold babies. Run through sprinklers. Stare at stars. Try something new. Make jewelry. Play the piano. Learn to fly stunt kites. Go fishing with my grandparents in Utah. Hide where the achievement gap can't find me.
Who needs to put a summer internship (and pay for a big-city apartment) on top of a hugely demanding work-and-school year? Not I, said The Sav.
Ahem, I haven't gotten any comments for a while.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Happiness consists in virtue.
"All sober enquiries after truth, ancient and modern, Pagan and Christian, have declared that the happiness of man, as well as his dignity consists in virtue. Confucius, Zoroaster, Socrates, Mahomet, not to mention authorities really sacred, have agreed in this."
--John Adams, Thoughts on Government: Applicable to the Present State of the American Colonies.
(Now I can discard the piece of paper where I wrote this that I've kept since visiting the Library of Congress last May.)
--John Adams, Thoughts on Government: Applicable to the Present State of the American Colonies.
(Now I can discard the piece of paper where I wrote this that I've kept since visiting the Library of Congress last May.)
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Why I remain easy prey to the mutant supercold
Wednesday 17 March.
6:30 am wake up. Late.
Write quiz on forces and motion.
Shower. Actually fix hair. Get dressed. Wear green.
Grab 3 slices of cinnamon raisin bread to eat in the car for breakfast.
8:00 pick up coworker.
8:25 6th grade team meeting.
8:50 encounter children. Try to keep kids quiet while they're supposed to read.
Frantically search TFAnet for a usable lesson component.
Find resource at last possible second and manually print double sided quizzes and worksheets.
10:00 try to get 13-year-olds to sit down and learn science (quiz and levels of organization) for 100 minutes.
11:40 start outline for grad school paper.
12:00 eat in teachers' lounge, get more printer paper.
Start outline for group presentation.
Finish outline for paper.
Print lesson plans for last class of day.
2:00 try to get 14-year-olds to sit down and learn science (carbon and nitrogen cycles) for 100 minutes.
3:40 enter a few grades.
4:00 head to TforA office.
Chat with a recruitment director about how many BYU grads have been accepted this year.
Eat a cookie.
4:25 meet with program director about personal concerns and planning through the end of the year.
5:30 create handout for group presentation tomorrow.
Write one page of grad school paper.
7:45 arrive at institute 15 minutes late.
9:25 get home from institute. Heat up dinner. Eat it.
10:00 recommence work on paper.
12:07 finish paper except for conclusion. Six pages. Second draft quality.
12:25 sleep.
That's a full nonstop 18-hour day, ladies and gentlemen.
6:30 am wake up. Late.
Write quiz on forces and motion.
Shower. Actually fix hair. Get dressed. Wear green.
Grab 3 slices of cinnamon raisin bread to eat in the car for breakfast.
8:00 pick up coworker.
8:25 6th grade team meeting.
8:50 encounter children. Try to keep kids quiet while they're supposed to read.
Frantically search TFAnet for a usable lesson component.
Find resource at last possible second and manually print double sided quizzes and worksheets.
10:00 try to get 13-year-olds to sit down and learn science (quiz and levels of organization) for 100 minutes.
11:40 start outline for grad school paper.
12:00 eat in teachers' lounge, get more printer paper.
Start outline for group presentation.
Finish outline for paper.
Print lesson plans for last class of day.
2:00 try to get 14-year-olds to sit down and learn science (carbon and nitrogen cycles) for 100 minutes.
3:40 enter a few grades.
4:00 head to TforA office.
Chat with a recruitment director about how many BYU grads have been accepted this year.
Eat a cookie.
4:25 meet with program director about personal concerns and planning through the end of the year.
5:30 create handout for group presentation tomorrow.
Write one page of grad school paper.
7:45 arrive at institute 15 minutes late.
9:25 get home from institute. Heat up dinner. Eat it.
10:00 recommence work on paper.
12:07 finish paper except for conclusion. Six pages. Second draft quality.
12:25 sleep.
That's a full nonstop 18-hour day, ladies and gentlemen.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Beware indeed
Musical antidotes for a miserable Ides of March
I don't fancy myself a Nelson Mandela, but I feel this.
I don't fancy myself a Nelson Mandela, but I feel this.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Snapshot 2006
It's time you met Shawna (okay, one of you has). She is my anima gemella, favorite friend soulmate sista, who realized I'm awesome when I told her my toothbrush had moved in with hers the night I arrived in Italy. She had arrived two months earlier for the same internship, which was teaching 3-week modules of various courses--science, economics, geography, English, history--at a public high school as a supplement to regular instruction in Italian. I'd planned to find my own apartment but we had so much fun that we stayed together in this tiny studio for the entire five months.
I got along with Shawna better than almost anyone I've ever known. Together we accidentally went to the Olympics in Torino (honest), navigated small-town Italy social drama, ate many jars of Nutella and boxes of thin pizza, climbed ancient towers, explored Verona and Bologna, rode single-speed bikes to dinner invitations and over medieval city walls, ran through many train stations trying not to miss train connections, missed trains anyway, drove through the hills of Tuscany, stayed up laughing into most nights. We knew the important details of each others' lives to the point where I already knew her friends before meeting them.
Does this sound like a love story? It is. :)
We both went home in June. I went back to BYU. When I got my mission call, my family was listening to me read it on one phone and Shawna was on the other. I used my graduation money to visit her in her native Chicago before leaving for Australia. She read my mission emails every week and sent me thoughtful letters. Shawna's apartment was a convenient halfway point on my journey from Colorado to Boston. I stayed with her a day longer than I had planned to because I just couldn't leave when I meant to. A friend and I stayed with her again on the reverse journey from New England to the Rocky Mountain west and she was so good to us.
And you know what, I didn't set out meaning to write any of that. I really just wanted to share this photo that epitomizes our time together that I found when I was revisiting old facebook photo albums. Garbage collection in Crema was quite an ordeal: we had to separate our paper and cardboard and put it in a paper bag or box, put all plastic in a plastic bag, put our biodegradable discards in a biodegradable bag, and everything else in a normal bag. They all got collected at different times. If we missed a collection, unwieldy piles would accumulate. This is just another day of us taking out the garbage:
at my apartment in crema: as garbage removal became more and more mundane, we had to create new ways to engage ourselves in the task. which from this point on involved late nights, strange hats, masks, and other disguises. our neighbors called us the crazy americans. we called us the garbage renegades.
I got along with Shawna better than almost anyone I've ever known. Together we accidentally went to the Olympics in Torino (honest), navigated small-town Italy social drama, ate many jars of Nutella and boxes of thin pizza, climbed ancient towers, explored Verona and Bologna, rode single-speed bikes to dinner invitations and over medieval city walls, ran through many train stations trying not to miss train connections, missed trains anyway, drove through the hills of Tuscany, stayed up laughing into most nights. We knew the important details of each others' lives to the point where I already knew her friends before meeting them.
Does this sound like a love story? It is. :)
We both went home in June. I went back to BYU. When I got my mission call, my family was listening to me read it on one phone and Shawna was on the other. I used my graduation money to visit her in her native Chicago before leaving for Australia. She read my mission emails every week and sent me thoughtful letters. Shawna's apartment was a convenient halfway point on my journey from Colorado to Boston. I stayed with her a day longer than I had planned to because I just couldn't leave when I meant to. A friend and I stayed with her again on the reverse journey from New England to the Rocky Mountain west and she was so good to us.
And you know what, I didn't set out meaning to write any of that. I really just wanted to share this photo that epitomizes our time together that I found when I was revisiting old facebook photo albums. Garbage collection in Crema was quite an ordeal: we had to separate our paper and cardboard and put it in a paper bag or box, put all plastic in a plastic bag, put our biodegradable discards in a biodegradable bag, and everything else in a normal bag. They all got collected at different times. If we missed a collection, unwieldy piles would accumulate. This is just another day of us taking out the garbage:
at my apartment in crema: as garbage removal became more and more mundane, we had to create new ways to engage ourselves in the task. which from this point on involved late nights, strange hats, masks, and other disguises. our neighbors called us the crazy americans. we called us the garbage renegades.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Recurring theme
Can someone please tell me...
1) What to do with my life?
(I like traveling, people, time to myself, NPR, urgent issues, government, problem solving, writing, pretty things, collaboration, creativity, economic development, ideas, and integrity)
2) What to do this summer?
(Assume I have enough money saved to work for free in a U.S. city or buy a plane ticket and spend about a month almost anywhere in the world)
1) What to do with my life?
(I like traveling, people, time to myself, NPR, urgent issues, government, problem solving, writing, pretty things, collaboration, creativity, economic development, ideas, and integrity)
2) What to do this summer?
(Assume I have enough money saved to work for free in a U.S. city or buy a plane ticket and spend about a month almost anywhere in the world)
Craving goodness
I'm sick, which for me means oversensitive emotions--a lot more laughing (which hurts, by the way) and a few tears. I just saw this L. M. commercial and got weepy. This is why: I am craving goodness. Middle schoolers are mean. I have seen the people I am with all day every day do things exactly opposite to what the commercial's characters do: they throw each other's stuff on the ground, push my papers off of my desk, knock people over, slam doors in faces, etc. The commercial, showing humans looking out for each other, accentuated how weary I feel being in and needing to adapt to this environment. I need a regular source of good, old-fashioned human decency. Or else I might shrivel. And please not just through insurance commercials.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Where's Joseph when you need him?
I had a dream recently that felt very significant. I wish I could know what it means.
I sat on the right side of a room that was a lot like an LDS chapel, in a pew near the front. In my hand I held about six coins: two the size of a quarter, two nickel-size, and two the size of a dime. They were black, with light orange-tan engravings. The coins were 50 million years old and from Israel. My connection with the coins was so deep that when my [real life] assistant principal asked me to give them to this guy I don't really know from my YSA branch, I screamed and cried and tried in vain to breathlessly appeal to his sense of rightness and compassion. When I handed over the coins, I felt robbed of an essential part of who I am. I was so deeply hurt, pain that I felt even hours after I woke up.
Perhaps the coins had some sort of international political economic meaning.
Perhaps they carried religious significance.
Perhaps they represented some personal commodity.
Perhaps one of my subscribers is a dream interpreter :)
Here are some coins from Israel for you to stare at.
I sat on the right side of a room that was a lot like an LDS chapel, in a pew near the front. In my hand I held about six coins: two the size of a quarter, two nickel-size, and two the size of a dime. They were black, with light orange-tan engravings. The coins were 50 million years old and from Israel. My connection with the coins was so deep that when my [real life] assistant principal asked me to give them to this guy I don't really know from my YSA branch, I screamed and cried and tried in vain to breathlessly appeal to his sense of rightness and compassion. When I handed over the coins, I felt robbed of an essential part of who I am. I was so deeply hurt, pain that I felt even hours after I woke up.
Perhaps the coins had some sort of international political economic meaning.
Perhaps they carried religious significance.
Perhaps they represented some personal commodity.
Perhaps one of my subscribers is a dream interpreter :)
Here are some coins from Israel for you to stare at.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Sit down, bird boy.
So I defused a pre-fight with my sharp wit and humor today.
Two boys (let's call them Edward and Andy) were arguing about something. Edward got out of his seat. Andy stood to meet him with fists out. No big deal. Sitting at my computer running the powerpoint, I said "Andy, what is that? a swan?" and held up my arm in the shape of a swan neck just like he was doing. The class burst into laughter, at which point I said "sit down, bird boy."
Point, Ms. N.
Two boys (let's call them Edward and Andy) were arguing about something. Edward got out of his seat. Andy stood to meet him with fists out. No big deal. Sitting at my computer running the powerpoint, I said "Andy, what is that? a swan?" and held up my arm in the shape of a swan neck just like he was doing. The class burst into laughter, at which point I said "sit down, bird boy."
Point, Ms. N.
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