Retro.

Disneyland, California ca. 1985.

Laughter!

Yesterday I had to work, teaching four hundred Girl Scouts. It was fun but tiring. The great part was that afterward, old college friends (Arlie, Peter, Jeremy H., Emily Anderson, & Jeremy Johnston) came to the Rock Hall and bopped around. Actually, that was more like the good part. Johnston was up from Cinci (haven't seen him since 2005) and Emily up from Columbus. The great part was the evening of beer and cookies that we spent at Arlie & Peter's that was complete with more laughter than I have experienced in YEARS. I laughed so hard that my cheeks hurt, my eyes burned with tears, and my tummy got cramps. We played a ridiculous game (the adjective game) and just laughed for hours. I woke up and my cheeks were sore this morning. It was just wonderful. Great to catch up with old friends, as always, but wonderful to just laugh, uninhibited, out loud, snorting, chortling, bubbling laughter! It really is some pretty great medicine.

Sicky poo.

I don't make a good sick person. Well, no one does, really, but I get especially grumpy and short-wired when sick. I'm not even drop-down drag out SICK but there's some gunk somewhere that is trying to come out and it hurts my throat and my eyes. And it doesn't help that I've been putting in killer hours at work. And I have to work tomorrow. The Girl Scouts are coming to the Rock Hall and we have to teach four classes back to back. I had been looking forward to it but between being burned out from Iowa and being sick, I just don't feel like it at all. Plus I was supposed to run 12 miles tomorrow morning. No can do. Boo hoo.

Well, enough bitching already. Let's talk about Octo-mommy. Psycho! Ok, I won't even bother going there. The irresponsible, selfish, nutcase of a crazy lady. 14 kids, no job. Sounds genius to me!

Privilege

Privilege is a funny thing. I have been very privileged growing up. My parents were careful to scout out the good schools before we moved anywhere, and I often had the choice among schools. I've done 50/50 public/private schools, bouncing all across the US. No matter what, I received excellent education. I was a good student (albeit a slightly hyper one) and I loved learning. I still do, although I'm not as good at it as I used to be. Today I taught to four different school groups. One was a suburban school, although it was pretty diverse, but the kids were super nerdy, smart kids with great vocabulary and social skills, excellent analytical skills, and a ready-to-learn attitude. They were 4th graders. My second group had kids from three different Cleveland schools, and they were in the 7th grade. Their reading comprehension was far lower than the first group, and although they were fantastic kids and great listeners, they didn't quite make the connections that the first group of kids did. They also come from one of the worst school districts in the nation with record school closings, teacher firings, and some of the lowest paid teachers around. And my gut reaction was that if I ever have a kid (who knows if that'll happen), I want my kid to be smart, curious, and creative. I don't want my kid to fall asleep because he or she hasn't gotten good sleep, or because he or she is bored. I want my kid to be engaged and into it, and it all really boils down to privilege. It saddens me that the gap between my first group of students today and the second group is only widening. And what can we do about it? Clearly No Child Left Behind has only screwed kids, teachers, and parents alike, and undoing that mess will take a long time. But even if we can undo it, there is no guarantee, especially considering that this country has been facing the same battle for decades. How do we give our kids a fair shot at education? How do we distribute those benefits across the board, for rich and poor, abused and un-abused, rural and urban? How do we give kids a fair shake, so that they can get the attention that they need and deserve? What exactly does it take? Cinderella stories are nice, but they just aren't realistic, and it seems silly that just because a kid comes from a single-parent welfare home that that child should suffer in the classroom and be neglected. What is it that we need to do? I believe that increasing arts programs in the schools is a good step, because it gives students a window into other learning opportunities. It gives them a different kind of filter or lens through which they can see their world. I led a professional development workshop last night where a photography teacher here in Cleveland is giving inner city kids a fair shake at trying creativity instead of violence. She has saved kids from the street by giving them rules, guidelines, and a camera. It's amazing what these kids can do, and what they could have done long ago if given the options. But with 45 kids per classroom in the Cleveland Metropolitan School District, it's no wonder that these kids barely stand a chance to graduate, let alone be able to read at their grade level. Anyway, the disparity between the two groups this morning, between one school vs. three others really had me questioning privilege and what I would do with my own, non-existant, unnamed child.

Job? Who, me?

Me and Tim Rice

Back from an exhausting week in Iowa. It was the best of times, it was the coldest of times, it was the craziest of times. It also made me realize (or come closer to the realization) that I am, in fact, an adult. I had responsibilities that weren't just behind the scenes. Instead, about two thousand people saw my work up close and in person. This alone is terrifying enough, and being recognized as some kind of authority, representing my place of employment, just adds to the fire. I have a job. I am a professional. WTF, mate? I'm no longer a grad student. Well, I am, but not in the same way that I was before. I'm learning about a different kind of politics, a different kind of hierarchy, professionalism, and responsibility. It certainly is new and interesting. Furthermore, I am learning new skill sets including production, wrangling, transportation, and interviewing (not just in the ethnographic way that I'm used to). It was one of the longest weeks that I've had in a long time, but I did enjoy the challenge, even though it kicked my butt from here to Timbuktu. I barely survived a family meltdown, teaching Iowa's children, iceburg lettuce, Buddy Holly fans (that's for another day, another blog), mullets, photography faux pas, and sub-zero temps, among other adventures. I did, however, meet some incredible people. Among my favorite was lyricist Sir Tim Rice, a delightful, goofy, and brilliant man. Then there was Graham Nash, who is every bit the peace-loving ex-hippie you would expect him to be.
















Me and Gordon Waller from Peter and Gordon

And Geezer Butler, bassist for Black Sabbath whose Birmingham accent and phrases were often beyond comprehension but who is the nicest heavy metal vegan I have had the chance to meet. And then just cool people at the Surf Ballroom, some great media guys from random TV, newspaper, and radio companies around the country, and a neat production team. It was, I repeat, utterly exhausting, but good. Whew.















Will and Graham Nash