Identifying with Literature

My Aunt Kay sent me Jack London's "To Build a Fire" when I was in grade school. I think that one book had the greatest impact on me as an elementary school student. I felt so much as I read of the multiple missteps taken by protagonist as he comes to the realization the reader has already embraced--he will die. It is a cold, desperate read. One that is very similar to London's tale is The Road, the book I finished during Joe, Ingrid, and my last trip to Baltimore.

I continue to think of The Road and wonder how the Busby family would fare in similar circumstances. The world we live in is so protective, forgiving of our weaknesses. I believe that Joe would have to go it alone. How could we hide to evade passing bands of cannibalistic soldiers if Jack screams? Run from roving, crazed thieves if Ingrid cannot run? Make our way to the warmth of the South if I'm having seizures? Yes, Joe would have to go it alone.

And these are the things I think about when I read a book that I think is good.

Documentarian

Early on in Joe and my series of discussions regarding our daughter's name, Joe balked at one of my suggestions, "HORTENSE? What? You can't be serious! No! Absolutely not. No daughter of mine is going to have the name Hortense." I guess I had to admit I understood where he was coming from. I am clueless most of the time and was no cool kid in middle school, but I do teach them and know Hortense would have a hard way to go through middle school. "Hey, Whore!" Yeah, that's pretty cruel. So, Hortense was off the long list quickly.

Ever since reading A Stranger and a Friend in graduate school, I held a very special place for Hortense Powdermaker. She was a remarkable anthropologist.

And now I am going to make a big, giant leap. It possibly will not make sense. I want a tattoo. I have never before wanted a tattoo, and now I do. "What of?" people ask. "Where?" people ask. And I answer, "I don't know. I don't know." But I do know that I want a tattoo. I am seeing them more like visual documentation of a life. And I have quite a few things going on in my life that I would like to document. (But I am open to suggestions and comments.)

Books of 2008 (well, ones I read in 2008) that were GREAT*!

*I chose to use the adjective great because it rhymes with eight. However, my very short list only includes the best books of the year. (This is also because I have the most pathetic of memories now--thank you pregnancies--, and I only remember books I still have in my possession.)

I Am the Messenger

Breaking Dawn

The Road

The Book Thief

Just an idea: Joe and I do not choose to keep the majority of books that we have read. Most we pass on to friends or donate to Goodwill. Missy, my friend and neighbor, came up with a great idea for those books. Create "lend or take" stickers. Put one in the front cover of the book with a short, personal review of the book and just leave it anywhere--in a McDonald's, on a park bench, at a museum. Worst thing that could happen--the book is thrown away. Best thing--someone picks it up, reads it, and continues the trend. What the heck? It's worth a try.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

There are a couple questions that I promised myself I would never ask kids. "Do you like school?" (and school related questions that follow that dutiful and monotone 'yes') and "What do you want to be when you grow up?" But even though I am aware of that grade school promise, I still ask those lame questions quite lamely. Right now I am fairly comfortable hanging out with toddlers (those who like to listen to humorous animal sounds and give high fives and listen to my fair to middlin' singing), non-verbal preschoolers (they like the same things with the addition of lots of running and spinning), and those dreaded early teenagers (they like to talk about themselves and hear you talk about them--it's easy to do that since, seriously, they are pretty darn cool kids). So, I guess the age I don't quite get is verbal preschoolers to about fifth grade.

I remember answering that question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" a lot. At first I said a ballerina because I had this kickin' tutu and leotard and thought it would pretty cool to walk around in that all of the time. Then, in first grade, I had a teacher who ate yogurt in the morning while we worked on our board work and drank a Coke in the afternoon while we played on the playground. "Are you kidding me?" I thought. "This is a job? Bossing people around, eating and drinking all day? Heck yes!" So for the next five years I wanted to be a teacher.

My reasons for wanting to be a teacher expanded past the yogurt and Cokes. During my school days I would study my teachers constantly and then imitate at home. I would plan lessons in my lesson plan book, average grades, make tests, teach to my imaginary, yet very unruly, class. I have always been a little obsessive, so I didn't get many gifts for any holiday that were not centered around my dream to teach. By the time I was in fifth grade, I had a wall sized chalk board, bulletin board, an overhead projector, and teacher's guides. When people asked me, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I would answer, "A teacher," and then steel myself for the next response. Either the adult would ask why and find my nerdy, adult-like focus hilarious or would say, "Oh. That's nice." Either way, I felt embarrassed.

So, surprise, surprise, I am now a teacher. It is different than what I imagined it would be to teach, and most of the time, it is better than I imagined it being. I love what I do. Last year I applied to be a National Board Certified Teacher. The process is a long one. It consists of 4 entries in a portfolio. And 6 essay test questions. A teacher has three years to bank scores while working on passing enough entries to earn NBCT status. Right before Thanksgiving this year, I received the email letting me know I had passed. I am now a NBCT. I wouldn't have been able to do all of the work I had to do without the help of Joe. He was an incredible support.

And when he asks that question of kids in those elementary years, which isn't very often, he listens to the answer--sincerely.

Defining drinks

Coffee:
Met Joe

British Breakfast tea:
last 2 years of college

Whiskey:
Grad school

Bloody Marys:
Grad school

V8:
both pregnancies

STRONG coffee:
motherhood

Martinis:
motherhood

Yes We Can!

I was pretty intrigued when McCain announced his running mate. For these reasons:

1. She was a she. (Yep. It made me smile to hear that the Republican Party had a woman as a VP candidate.)
2. She had my name, petty, but I liked that she too was a Sarah Louise.
3. (And most importantly) She had a son with special needs.

And then, she disappointed me. Her agenda would not help support children with special needs.

I have a son with autism and a daughter with physical disabilities, and I need a president that will at least try to help my special needs kiddos. Obama is the only presidential candidate that might be able to support the funding and not block bills that could help Ingrid and Jack. So, he has my vote.

Music comes and goes

So I have a few stories to tell.

The first is a story of love.

Last Christmas I became enchanted with music, thanks to the sweet ipod classic Joe bought me as my present. It was first just an idea I had for school. I needed a mix of songs to play for my students. (Songs are great teaching devices from analyzing lyrics to transitions and beyond.) Around October of last year I mentioned to Joe that it would be really cool (I might have said rad--it would sound better with what I am about to type) if I could have a 500 disk cd player for my classroom. "You know, like a jukebox," I said dreamily--no doubt thinking of Happy Days. Anyway, after Joe spent some time chuckling, he explained that there were tiny machines out there that would handily do the same thing. Well, gosh darn it, there were! I was addicted to that ipod. I used with the students almost daily and the Busby family would listen in the car all of the time. I loved it during inservice days, because I could rock out while I cleaned my room or graded papers. I loved that ipod.

The second is one of second life.

So, I was driving on one of those all-of-a-sudden cool nights this September. I happily had the heat going and my ipod plugged in. I was rocking out. Well, a stupid song got in the shuffle and I immediately grabbed that ipod to click skip. The ipod was dripping wet! "What?!" You ask incredulously. Yes! Some condensation had formed in the change compartment where my ipod rests, and for about 5 minutes it had been taking a dip in a shallow pool. Well, it died. Nothing would revive it. Until...my friend Alison had an idea--put that thing in a bowl of rice. Luckily, I have a tub of rice. (Jack likes the sensory play.) So, I buried the ipod in rice and left it for 48 hours. Two days later the darn thing worked. Amazing.

The third is a story of loss.

Well, I was playing that ipod for classes this year. I think it was the 2nd or 3rd week of school. Every class period I would grab it off the base. Every class period until the last of the day I forgot. I was literally out of the room (teachers stand in the hallway during the changing of every class period) for half a minute, but it probably took only half that time for my student to steal it. I was crushed. I, until that moment, had never had a student steal from me. Not sure if I will ever get over that one completely.

The fourth is just cool.

I knew about Pandora a little bit, but did not use it because I loved my ipod. All of a sudden I no longer had an ipod, darn it. So, I began using Pandora. It is awesome. (Even more like a jukebox than an ipod because you never know what song you'll get next.) Check it out.

The fifth, and last, story is a one of karma?

My friend, and babysitter, Sarah is about to graduate. She participated in a study abroad trip, and when she returned, she came bearing gifts. The bag contained: coconut rum, coffee, a stuffed lamb, and an ipod. "What?!" Oh yes, you read that correctly--an ipod. Sarah's dad had given her an iphone as an early graduation gift, and she passed her ipod down to me. The next day I brought it to school. We listened to "Rikki-Tikki-Tavi" and Johnny Cash. The students heard the story of Sarah's generosity and many applauded. (I made sure to hold on to that ipod.)