8 posts tagged “education”

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It can be so easy to write a journal entry when things are sour. It's when I feel most compelled to pour everything out of my soul. My emotions are raw, but it's all out. Released. The end result is (sometimes) a better understanding of the situation or just a feeling of euphoria as feelings and thoughts are inked on record and out of my system. Yet, it's so rare that I actually take time to write about some of the fascinating or brighter spots. Even during the times that I do, I find myself tongue tied and my vox doesn't come out as raw or emotional as I like.

Noneoftheless, after weeks of neglecting my blog I'm finally finding some time to sit down, share and reflect on the latest happenings. What I'm glad to report is, I've been busy and bit happier than "normal." Even though the math class I've been made to repeat after not having algebra in my face for over 10 years has been challenging, but I'm trying to deal; tutor from the math lab and tutorial DVD that came with the text book. 

As for what has been going on I'll guess I'll start with....

Home....

Things are fine and calm at home. My schedule at school isn't a bad one, but the time and energy spent on my work is completely draining. Thank God for my mom, for taking care of the Snickerdoodle while I tend to school and other matters. Sometimes I feel guilty for not being able to give the Snickerdoodle my immediate attention, but I do realize it's not the end of the world. I try to squeeze in every ounce of mother/daughter time that I can when I come home, but a lot of times it's not that simple as I have an assignment that needs to be done immediately. I figure my daughter is only 2. She'll forgive me.

Trust me when I say, I do cherish dinner time, bath time and (sometimes) bedtime. Bedtime is the hardest, because she is soooo like me; a night owl. She hates it when she has to retire for the evening. She'll cry and maybe ridiculously scream. I get frustrated as I try to work and she is fighting sleep. Somehow I manage to calm down before it gets too crazy and realize this is just motherhood. EVERY mother has gone through this. So I deal. Reading a bedtime story or maybe lingering in her bed for a moment or two until she is calm enough to drift to sleep.  

My grandmother....

Since the passing of her husband in July, her life seems to be looking up. Her (pre) dementia hasn't been acting up as much. Though she still has glitches with her memory, she tries so hard to remember. She hasn't been depressed (as much). The only time she gets in a blue mood is when she allows unnecessary worries flood her thoughts. They are mainly concerns about the legalities of her late husband's estate. Some of the worry seems valid as his family wasn't the best of one. The attacks and betrayals against my grandmother were hurting to her, especially when she showed them nothing but love from the very beginning.

Nevertheless, my grandmother has been preparing to move from the late husband's house. While the estate is being worked on it's clear that his family is still trying to dig a hole for her, but in turn the hole will be for them. My grandmother is looking forward to the move and even got more excited the other day when she received a call that the house is just about ready and she can have a walk through next week.

I'm actually looking forward to helping on her moving day. This fresh start is something he truly needs. Maybe it will trickle down a bit into other parts of the family as well.

Freelance Project....

The launch of the magazine is less than a month. There is still much to be done including recruiting more writers. I get the feelings everything will fall into place, but I don't want this to fail. This is essentially a team effort and I don't want to fail in any way on my part. So what's left for me to do? Contact and respond to a few more interested writers, make an announcement on journalism sites, coordinate with other editor to have a budget (journalism term for story ideas/headlines/topics that will make in the publication) meeting and once stories are submitted, edit.  It seems simple, but everything will go so fast and hectic, especially the closer it is to launch time.

Yet I love it!

Papi...

Things between us are going soooo well. In the midst of our busy lives, we always find time to go out and have fun. Our latest venture was something on my part. I had two invites for this past Wednesday Congressional Black Caucus reception given by the city council at The Park on 14th. I invited Papi and course he had no idea what I had gotten him into. It was nice to get all dressed up to mix and mingle for a while. Actually we arrived a bit late, so we missed the small presentation, but he still he got to meet some of my political connects except for the biggest one of all....YA. The place was crowded... utter madness. We stayed for like an hour and some change, before we decided to go eat.

We finally made our way to Eatonville and I'm still raving about the shrimp and crawfish ettoufe. LOOOOOOVES IT!   

Church, School and Spirituality....

My pastor and I finally did get to talk about the newsletter he wants me to revive. He understood fully that my plate is basically full until December. We concluded we would follow up in December and prepare for a January (re) launch of the church's newsletter.

For the first time in a long while, I've been attending church on the regular. Actually, some of the spiritual lessons from church that I've been receiving I've been incorporating into thought from discussions I have in my creative writing class. I'm so glad I was able to get in another class taught by Tony Medina. Though, I'm the oldest one amongst my classmates, the discussions does make me pause for a moment and ponder amongst the banter between the 19, 20 and 21 year olds that are in the class.

Last week, a simple topic turned really heavy as we discussed an Albert Einstein quote - "Imagination is more valuable than knowledge."

We argued the points imagination verses knowledge and somehow ended up on Christianity. Actually I know how we ended up there, but that's a different journal entry altogether. Yet it perplexed me that within that same week I had a dream that stuck with me until I looked up the symbols that stood out the most.

The dream found me in Egypt where I was with a group lead by another professor of mine (in reality that particular professor takes a group of students to Egypt every year and last week he did mention next years trip in class). Somehow, I and two women who were roughly ten years older than me were drifting away from the group in a raft. The group noticed we were drifting and tried everything in vain to save us, but we were drifting away fast. What perplexed me was how we were surrounded by nothing but water, but I didn't have any fears. I knew we were going to be alright. The dream flipped to where we are being pulled to land, but we don't actually walk on land. We are in water, like in a pool. The water is very light blue and clear enough for me to see tiles at bottom and on the side of the pool. The tiles are white trimmed with gold.

People are talking/interviewing us, asking were we scared about being along at sea. I let the other two women talk about the incident, but someone asked me was I scared and I said no. The dream seems to flip again as folks, especially the people from whatever group I was with, were rushing back to their "hotel" rooms to change for a ceremony. I don't rush back, but what I find is, everyone is staying in this dormitory. Everyone has changed and rushes to this great hall that looks more like a cathedral sanctuary. I arrive to the ceremony and spot a couple of folks I knew from high school. I'm guessing I'm in the balcony section because I'm looking down and the ceremony has started and it's this formal protocol service for a king of some African nation.  

I looked up the symbols and began to put the puzzle together.

Egypt: Roots or core of your own emotion/spirituality. May also suggest a simpler time.

Raft drifting/floating: Unsure where you're headed to. Confused on purpose & direction in life.

White (the tiles): Purity, perfection, peace, innocence, dignity, cleanliness, awareness, new beginning. Also may indicate mourning/death.

Gold (the tiles): Wealth, riches, natural healing, illumination and/or spirituality.

Dorm: Value placed on knowledge and education. Believe that you are always learning, and not just in a classroom.

Ceremony: Sacrifice and devotion necessary for success. Maybe going through a crucial moment in life that requires commitment. It's a time for introspection, self discovery and inner changes.

Last night as I caught the rerun of Oprah's interview with rapper Jay-Z, one thing that stood out was how Oprah made the comment that neither of their paths of "fame and fortune" were something they foresaw. There was no clear vision for it all. Of course Jay agreed and pretty much said that it was all about the passion and hard work he was willing to put in to making music - which of course opened doors for his business to spread into the fashion, restaurant/club and sports industries.

Not to sound redundant or like plenty of others who have said this, but I absolutely believe I was not meant to be the so-called average or ordinary person - as I see it. However, the reality of finally being done with my undergraduate studies is drawing near and it's a bit scary, because again I feel as if I'm faced with I don't know where I'm going to land; which could explain the drifting away from the group on a raft. Yet, the interesting thing is I'm not as scared as I was when I left the federal government five years ago. I do feel some ease but what has me on edge are the journalism tasks I have before me.

Last semester was the ultimate boot camp I needed to refresh my skills. However, this current project, launching a NATIONAL publication, IS my ceremony. I feel this is the moment that will truly make or break me.  Even still, as I'm finding myself falling in love with journalism all over again I've been giving some serious thought about attending graduate school for it. Before my attitude has been that you really don't need a masters in journalism, since it has always been believed that everything about the field you learn, you learn by being hands on with it. However, the industry has changed sooooooooo much! A lot of old journalism standards are being chucked away to make room for "new media."

So with that.. it wouldn't hurt to have a masters... would it? I'm guessing this is why the dorm was in my dream and actually before the ceremony. Ah! Maybe it's my big hint that I should go to graduate school!

Though I'm into the journalism world, I also consider myself an artist as I do write creatively and have shared my work and been published. Yet, in some of what I write I see a constant struggle to write with a connection to my spirituality verses writing for the sake of writing.  When I write for the sake of it I loose focus, find myself imbalanced and uninterested.. which leads to droughts. I hate it in every sense because I feel lost. There have been times when I've been so connected that when after I had written something, reread it and have others look at it.. every immediate reaction has been a speechless or one word of utter shock.

It's a "Where did THAT come from moment?"

I haven't had that moment in a really long time and I yearn for it, because those are the moments when I feel so connected to God. I think in a lot of ways this creative writing class is helping me to get to the core of it all. After all, the assignment due for Tuesday is to write a writer's creed based on why I write. This, perhaps, is my Egypt; this time and space. This is helping me get to the core of my emotion and spirituality.

Yesterday while on my way to campus I played my Madonna "Ray of Light" cd. I forgot how much I loved that album, especially the song "Swim." Since having those dreams nearly a year ago about swimming, I've been comparing this part of my journey to swimming, immersing myself in all the untouched emotions I either brushed away or totally blocked to avoid some kind of hurt and just dealing with them and washing myself clean from them. For the most part I have, which why I can only believe there is a strong meaning behind the Egypt dream with me ending up in a clear bluish pool of water looking at the tiles on the bottom and the side.

In a way I do feel as if I represent both meaning of the white tiles. There is this sense of new awareness, but there is also this sense of mourning as a couple of folks I thought would be in this part of my life aren't. But it's okay. It's all about growth. The meaning behind the gold tiles is interesting. How deep will this richness go?

All I ask is that the Lord doesn't stop blessing me and sticking with me. May I stay focused and able see my work through

My spiritual journey has been one of highs and lows. Perhaps the reason it hasn't been a constant plane is out of my own stubborn and controlling ways to which I haven't given up my full trust and completely rely on my faith. There have been moments when I have just released myself, but more likely only after hitting rock bottom or out of my own hard headedness God has brought forth huge road blocks or signs to get my attention.

In regards to my writing, it has become evident and I'll admit, I haven't been using it to my full potential. Some time ago I realized I didn't want to be writing just for the sake of it; creative or journalism wise. I always wanted to use this gift for the benefit of the greater good. I believe it's time to "put the money where my mouth is" sorta speak. Since returning to school, I challenged myself to be a bit more disciplined in my journalism studies, regular studies and even in my creative writing. Last semester, through the rigorous finale of my journalism courses I stuck it out and saw the fruits of my labor. Not monetary wise, but in the satisfied looks and comments from my sources that I interviewed, my professor(s), my peers and myself.

Last semester knocked the wind out of me and I spent much of the summer on cruise control. While I did produced a few more [freelance] articles, I felt spent and needed to breathe for a moment. Maybe a moment too long, because by the start this semester I found myself hitting the ground running in finishing up these last courses for my minor - African American Studies - before being declared a graduate. However, not before the end of the summer one of my journalism professors [an editor of a major magazine] tapped me to join in on a [paid] project; launching a national publication that will be operated by and through the school. Of course I jumped on board, but only to feel a little lost over the summer in my duties, since we're starting from the ground up.

As school started two weeks ago, I met with the professor and another young lady on board for the project. We hashed out our ideas, discussed the foundation that started forming before the end of last semester and the next phase of moving things through. After the meeting I felt so energized and excited, but even still I have slacked [not intentionally] in getting my part done at the moment. My semester is chock-full of writing and reading. Not to mention, coming home to a two-year-old that loves your attention after haven't seen you all day long on two days of the week and half a day on the rest of the days. So I'm struggling a bit in finding a balance. Right now my brain feels a bit helter skelter.

Even in the midst of this, another call has been extended to me. God via my pastor is calling. Many moons ago - well maybe not that long ago - I worked on the "newsletter ministry" at my church. My pastor caught wind that I was in school for journalism and thought it would be a good idea for me to serve as editor of the newsletter. At the time I was only 20 and worked with a team of folks that were much older than me. In the end, some folks had issues with my decisions about certain things and though I tried to work with them it got nasty. Like - I'm sending you an email and CCing the pastor nasty. So I quit the ministry and the newsletter was defunct for a while. It was revived again sometime later but didn't last long.

Since the time I quit my mother has been on me about reviving the newsletter for the church. So nearly three weeks ago when she told me the pastor wanted me to call him about the newsletter, I thought it was another ploy my mother was pulling to make her thoughts known. Just in case, I did call the pastor, but not immediately though; try three days later. I know.. bad.

Nevertheless, I was faced with his voicemail inbox, so I left a message. A couple of days later my mother asked had I called. I told her I did and left a message. Her voice was laced with an urgent tone as she scrolled through her blackberry to pull up the pastor's cell number.

"He REALLY wants you on this. Call his cell. Don't call the church."

Without protest my mother's Blackberry was pressed up against my ear as my pastor's phone rang once and went to yet another voicemail greeting. I left another message. As that week's Sunday came upon me, I went to church. I went up for alter call and the pastor spotted me, leaned into me and pretty much affirmed that he did need to speak with me when I had a moment. The end of church was hectic with people all around and my daughter getting a bit fussy because it was near lunchtime. So I left before having the needed conversation with my pastor.

Today after church I went up to speak with pastor. Ironically today's sermon was about discipleship and going forth to spread/teach the word and message of God via however you are lead to do so, or moreso using the gifts/resources/talents/calling that God has bestowed upon you. I had already made up my mind that reviving the newsletter would have to wait until January, when I'm done with school for good. I mentioned this to my pastor today. He had a slight disappointed look, but then told me he was hoping to see something around November, but if he had to wait until January he would, because he didn't want to interrupt my school-work. I told him I would see what I could do. Just before I bid him a good rest of the day, he turned to me and told me that he really wanted me to work on this for the church.

So many times I hear talk about being obedient to the word... being obedient to God period. Part of me believes this isn't some random coincidence that projects are coming my way and even something pertaining to my church home. I do believe it's all about helping me further grow in this realm of writing and even as a person. However, when it came to my church I've been wrestling for the longest about feeling out of place. My church is the same church I grew up in. My parents were married there, I was dedicated and baptized there. I sang in the choir, been on many retreats, fellowshipped in many ways with my extended family - my church family. Still, at some point of my adult life I felt out of sorts or out of place and lost as times were changing inside the church and even with me.

My current spiritual journey has been one of baby steps, prayer and me trying to be disciplined with a lot of things. Which is why the other part of me is still the fearful me; me fearing failure - the insecure me that still creeps up. Now that I know in the past I wasn't [fully] ready with some of my journalistic/creative endeavors, I'm nervous. Unsure if this time I'm ready. Deep down I feel that I'm ready, but on the surface I still feel like such a novice.

A couple months ago I posted a status on Facebook mentioning how I felt like such a novice. It generated a few comments, one in particular came from Brandon.

"You're not a novice, but at the same time, you're always learning. When you get to a point where you think you know everything, that's when you don't flourish."

I feel it's time to flourish. So I guess it's time to be obedient. Learn through trial and error. After all, that's the only way to grow. Now if I can only completely kick these insecurities and fears of succeeding out of my life. *umph*

Today my heart cringed as the ultimate verbal assassination took place in front of me.

It was day two of the [final] semester. One class in particular, I've been thirsting for. You see, once upon a time, I took a poetry class taught by the infamous poet Tony Medina. It was during the spring 2005 semester, before I took my personal sabbatical from school. At the time I didn't know how much of a big deal Medina is until students who weren't even registered for the class broke their necks to sit in on a session to watch and listen. I loved every moment of that hour and 20 minute class. It was my time and space to sink into my Aquarius Abyss and pull out from depths unknown hidden words. I loved the books he had us read; a poetry book by Audre Lourde and another by Nikki Finney. He even shared some of his own published work, including the then newly anthology he co-edited "Def Jam Presents: Bumrush The Page."

I still recall the day an arrogant I'm-so-full-swag-I-can-spit-a-poem-in-two-seconds-and-serve-you dude dared to challenge Medina. Little did he know who he was dealing with and ended up being [respectfully] told off. It was also here where he talked about how old school poets like him and Nikki Giovanni will go to an open mic and will show respect by staying until the last poet has spoken.

As we "urban" folks say.. he dropped jewels.

Today he dropped more jewels as nearly eight of us wanted to know our fate for the Creative Writing Workshop class. It seems that since Medina's first days on Howard's campus, he's become very selective in who he allows to register for his classes. During registration, his classes are always listed as open, but are blocked, unless he authorizes. This is part of his process to see who is serious and who is just plan ol' bullshitting.

To start the process he went around the room asking us a few not-so-random things, but mainly what are some things we like to read. I watched his expression become a little perplexed and intrigued at the same time as two classmates expressed their not-so-fondness towards reading. Both mentioned they do read but one, however, claimed it would depend on whatever the literature is and if forced to read, she would, but other wise she wasn't enthused. The other said the ultimate as he expressed how reading is still pretty much "illegal" in his eyes because society still doesn't think it's cool to read. When Medina asked him to name a poet, his only response was Lauryn Hill. Granted "L-Boogie" can flow and drop knowledge on a whole slew of so-called rappers/hip-hop artists out here, but as Medina pointed how there is a sure fire guarantee that she's read something, she's studied someone. Medina asked the young fella has he heard of Sonia Sanchez.

Answer: no.

Shots fired!

Ears Ringing!

I heard a confused sigh released from another classmate. My own heart stopped and my guts, teeth..entire body cringed. Without warning, I didn't realize I was ready to rip into this 21 year old, until Medina beat me to it and I felt my body relax. Again Medina dropped jewels as he explained to the entire group, but mainly to the two non-enthused readers, that in order to become a good writer you have to read, study the art form, READ other writers & poets. He pretty much reiterated something he shared with the poetry class I took that '05 semester; when your thoughts are dry, go to the well. It's a lesson I NEVER forgot and ALWAYS carry with me.

The "Forced Reader" took offense and became somewhat defensive. Medina softened his tone a bit in order for her to see his point - it's pretty much a painter telling someone he paints but can't explain his craft. We spent the whole class time talking about the importance of reading, especially as it pertains to a writer or someone who aspires to write. At some point Medina felt compelled to share his experience when he fell in love with reading, which helped him realize he wanted to be a writer. He made the point that his home life growing up wasn't filled with books. It took a teacher from the 9th grade to almost fail him for not doing a book report for him to pick up a book - Flowers for Algernon - and read.  

As the discussion rolled on, I couldn't help but wonder what is with some of the folks in my generation who are younger than me and teeter on the borderline of being in someone else's generation. You would think, being on anyone's college campus that one would want to seek and even have a thirst for as much knowledge as possible that reading shouldn't even be a question nor a chore. Yet, in the past year since I've returned to campus I've notice something that kind of bothers me, that goes beyond taking a college education for granted. Intellectual laziness.

I noticed this last semester as I finished up my journalism courses and was pretty much in an intense, almost journalism boot camp world. It was only just a few years earlier, that our instructors expected and demand so much from us journalism students that we frequently gave 110 percent PLUS. Yet, during a time when I had to serve as an editor of one of the school run publications, I noticed how a lot of "reporters" were turning in regurgitated stories from other news sources (ugh!!) or opinionated pieces and not going deeper; like finding a new angle to a story while staying objective.

Granted the population of Howard is large (not sure of exact number), so I know not ALL of us are suffering from this sleepiness, but I have to ask of those that are feeling it, where is your quest for a challenge? Where has education "failed" you?

Then a general question: Why have we, descendants of slaves and civil rights children have taken EDUCATION, especially READING so lightly or for granted? As Medina pointed out, this sleepiness or laziness to read is generally across the board, but when it comes to US, the children of Linda Brent, Ella Baker, Frederick Douglass, W.E. B. Dubois.. and even from Sarah Bartmann you would think we would have a greater appreciation for it....

There are some of us who get it and some of us who don't.

Today, my heart actually bled for those that don't.  

Shots Fired.....

For a second time in a year, I have volunteered my time with a group of sixth grade boys in conducting a creative writing workshop. Last year's inaugural run of the program went so well that I couldn't pass up the opportunity to do it again. The objective of this program is to stimulate their creative side and tap into their skills while preparing them for the future; by having them think about what profession they would like to have as an adult (outside an athletic career). I'm not the only person to volunteer, as others from other industries come in and give their presentations/workshop. By the end of the program, the fellas would have a business card displaying their profession and products of what they created in the workshop to showcase their entrepreneurial skills; i.e. the creative writing component ends with the guys creating an anthology from all of the poems I have them write during my time with them. There is also a reading component where they are required a text that is chosen for them and they have a discussion about. Last year's book was Ben Carson's Gifted Hands. This year's pick, The Pact.

Initially, my gung ho-ness ran low the closer the time came. Last year I was free or open with my time. This year not so much. Time is so precious to me that I now I have to literally figure in sleep. I don't mind it. I'm loving this time of my life actually.

Nevertheless, I went ahead and pressed on with today's session. I made a commitment and I wanted to stick to it. To start, during the drive to the school I started to get a bit worried. I wondered if I would get a group of cooperative and well behaved (as well behaved as you can get for a sixth grader) as I did last year. Would the group be larger or smaller? Would there be a good mix like last year; Blacks, Latinos and a few Caucasians? When I entered the school, I was hit with a sense of familiarity. I felt at east once I saw familiar faces of last year; the school's principal, vice principal and the sixth grade teacher. 

Within moments I was in front of the class. My presenter had the boys introduce themselves. Immediately I went into action and the first boy.... young (Black) man-child half stood up, head bowed and kind of cocked to the side, a smug expression and a voice barely above a whisper. Abruptly I told him to stop. I approached him and in the most content tone asked him to step away from his desk, stand straight up, head held up and projected his voice. He reciprocated. He looked taller from his earlier slouched position. A shock to me. He spoke up. Then he smiled. He took his seat and smiled again.

For the rest of the introductions I made sure that each man-child stood tall and projected his voice. I'm proud that I have a good mix again this year; African, African-American, Latinos and my lone Caucasian who trips me out. My nervousness or worried sense fell away as I found my groove. At first I was unsure how I would start the session. Last year was pretty easy. I was well prepared with books from my own collection of poetry and some I checked out from the library. My only regret, as I see coming with this group, there wasn't enough time to get it all in. Yet this year was a challenge. My books are packed away due to the renovations at home and time snuck up on me so I didn't make it to the library. I did what I could from the internet and my own mind and called it a day. 

To get a feel for where the man-children were mentally with the word poetry or with their writing in general, I asked them how many of them write. All 20 something pairs of hands were raised. From there I had a brief discussion on poetry as it relates to music... mainly hip hop. I mixed in a conversation I had with last year's group about rap artists being rappers or poets. The wow factor began as I realized that while they were in tune to Lil Wayne, Jay-Z and (dare I say it..) Gucci Man, they couldn't really name a poet outside of music - other than the guy whom their school is name for. A few of them caught a peek of the book I was carrying, my Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein, and called out his name, but didn't know anything about Silverstein. And though they were in tuned to the world of hip hop, little did they know that Tupac Shakur had a book of poetry.

I read to them Tupac's poem "Ambition Over Adversity"

Take one's adversity
Learn from their misfortune
Learn from their pain
Believe in something
Believe in yourself
Turn adversity into ambition
Now blossom into wealth

I asked for them to tell me who they thought wrote it. Maybe out of being funny the bulk of them said Lil Wayne and someone mentioned Biggie. Then I told them the answer. As if rehearsed, in unison the whole group said "WHOA!"

Boy 1: "But isn't he dead?"

Boy 2 to classmate: "I told you he wasn't dead!"

I asked them to tell me what they thought was the poem was about. A brief discussion ensued and moments later I wrote four words on the board.

Win. Lose. Challenge. Believe.

I wanted them to write a poem using those four words and telling a time when they had given up on something or a time when they were told they couldn't do something but they pulled through and did it anyways. Some tried to get a little slick and say they never been challenged with anything, but I made them think a bit harder about it.

My second wow came as I had some of them come forward and share their poems. Just like with any group of kids, they were reluctant to share their thoughts aloud, but all it took was one student to get up and say his poem out loud and the rest were eager to share. As I listened to what these man-children wrote I did everything I could from crying. One boy told how no one around him believes in him, but he doesn't care because he believes in himself and that's all he needs. Another stood up and shared an experience in the third grade. His poem came off like spoken word. During his third grade year, he had not long been in America. He was failing all his classes and his teacher had pretty much given up hope, but he kept going and beat the odds that were set against him.

The poems went on like this. My reaction was set to stun. Sixth graders writing this profound and not really realizing it. As my time went on, I schooled them about Langston Hughes. I read Hughes' "I, Too" and asked for them to tell me who they thought wrote it. A shocker was they thought Kanye West wrote it!!! I had to tell them it wasn't any one in the music industry. No one could guess it. Eventually I broke it down and schooled them to a little bit of Langston Hughes.  

Before I knew it, my time with them had ended. I felt cheated, because I wanted them to write two more poems; a haiku and a bio-poem. The bio-poem was a hit last year as I had the group fill in the blanks to this format.

Line 1: First Name (write first name)

Line 2: Four traits (characteristics) that describe the person

Line 3: Relative ("Brother", "sister"," husband", "wife", "daughter", etc. ) of __________

Line 4: Lover of __________ ( list three things or people your love)

Line 5: Who feels __________ (list three items)

Line 6: Who needs __________ (list three items )

Line 7: Who fears __________ (list three items

Line 8: Who gives __________ (one item fully explained )

Line 9: Who would like to see __________ ( list one item)

Line 10: Resident of __________ (list city, state or country)

Line 11: Last Name

Despite that it was a Friday and the dismissal announcement had been made, I could tell that a lot of them didn't want to leave. They had their pens and pencils to the paper trying to squeeze out their thoughts. Yet, they couldn't miss their bus. The good news is unlike last year whereas I only had one day, I get to return for two more days to do the full workshop! The next time I'll see my man-children will be in three weeks.

I love hearing the positive feedback from the students and the faculty. Though still fairly new, the program for the boys has generated a lot of interest and motivation for the boys as they transition into their teen years and into junior high school. What does sadden me a bit is that I can't work with both the boys and the girls. Although the sixth grade girls are under the same program, their workshops have a different focus. The transition program for the girls is actually the first and has been around a bit longer. Since their initial start the objective was to focus more on self esteem issues and etiquette training with a reading component. However, this year their program took a slight turn as it is all about conflict/resolution which is PERFECT and ABSOLUTELY needed in this day in age amongst young females.

I wish I could sit in on their sessions a bit to get a glimpse into what the girls are thinking. I contribute my two cents though. A book hadn't been selected for the girls to read, because no one could come up with a title that deals with conflict/resolution for females around this age group. I brainstormed a bit and remembered I book I read when I was in the seventh grade. I couldn't remember the name to save my life. I just remembered the plot vaguely and remember how good of a book it was. All I could remember was; set in Harlem, NY. Girl moves to NY from the Islands. She's picked on a lot. She fights a lot and one girl she fights becomes her best friend. As they grow from elementary to jr high age/stages they grow into themselves and possibly apart. 

It finally came to me.

The Friends by Rosa Guy.

I LOVED this book. I still have it, but like everything else, it's packed away for the time being.

(I'll be so glad when these renovations are completely over!)

The book deals with females in their age group and there is a whole lot of conflict and resolution for them to dissect during their book discussion. The book has been ordered for the girls tonight and I'm itching to dig up my copy just to read it again for fun.

My mother has been hinting to me all evening that I missed my calling. She tells me she notices how I light up when I talk about working with the group of sixth graders and all the positive feedback about their writing and work with me. Naturally I dramatically sigh and roll my eyes upward at my mother's hint about me being a teacher. That is sooooo not my gift. Being a teacher and an administrator... that's my mother's calling and rightfully so. She's a natural born leader. Perfect fit. Me... though I love doing what I do for these children, I don't have the patience to deal with it as a profession, especially in broken school systems that are in place.

My mother's friend said it best when she told us that she feels that I would easily get bored sitting in a classroom and straight instructing the kids. So.. So.. SO.. SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO true! If I couldn't take it in the federal government, how could I take it in a school?

My mother's friend sits in as I conduct the writing workshop(s) and she picks up on a lot. Today she further concluded that I don't talk to them as if I'm a teacher. I play around with them but still command their respect. Don’t' know how I do it, but I (guess) I do. Also she noticed that if I were to teach I would be the kind to want to take the kids away from school, but that's not always so easy. Again. She was soooo right. Kids get restless staying indoors all the time. I think this is true for anyone. This is why during field trip time, kids get a kick out of trying to bust their butts getting permission slips signed and woe is the child whose parents told them no (for whatever reason) or completely forgot to give the slip to the parent(s) or bring it to school. It's not a good feeling to know that you were left out of the out of classroom fun. While the rest of your classmates have gone to the museum and may gripe about the short paper they will have to complete about the trip later, you are stuck in the principal's office clapping chalkboard erasers together to clean them.  

Whoever founded School Without Walls (a DC public school) was a genius. Classes are both in and OUTside of the school. A couple of folks I know graduated from there and loved it. In a way I wish I would have gone, but all in all, where I ended up was cool. I picked up valuable lessons and skills that were highly utilized when I started college. I actually had an advantage in some cases where my fellow classmates, coming from wherever, didn't; especially when it came to research papers! Thank Gawd for that senior year research project! Came in handy for college!

Though I'm sure that I wasn't meant to be a professional teacher, I don't mind taking some kind of time to encourage a child to shine. In some ways I always felt I should be hands on with youth. Many many many times I tried, but my own life was a sham so I didn’t follow through. How could I mentor to a vulnerable teen, when my own life was a wreck? Not a good look. Now that I have all this energy I'm ready.

So much has transpired. So much to tell. But I feel like the kid with so much to say that it's almost painful to hold it cause I can't contain it and if I tell it, I might miss something.. something important and all is at a loss.

Unsure about a starting point to all of this I'll just start with....

I'm finding my niche... my brethren. Yet I hope I don't blow it by loosing my drive..my motivation.

I can't say it enough to myself and to others. I picked a hell of a time to return to school. Actually the more I think about things... it was meant to be this way. It really was.

Not sure all of want to say. Just that I feel really at home on campus. My Black Aesthetics class.... My gosh! Dr. C was on point last week as we've been talking about the Black Arts Movement. The discussion sort of validated me in a way. Not that I was looking for validation, but it proved something in regards to my writing and why I've been off and on with my manuscript. It also proved that there is a bigger reason for the crushing blow I was dealt a couple weeks ago.

The second anthology - under the mainstream publishing house - that I THOUGHT I was in.. turned out I wasn't. Granted I was told by the editors, a year ago, that my submission had been accepted, a higher power said no. The book was released this past Valentine's Day weekend. I began to see the editors on the Today Show and heard them on Oprah's radio show promoting the book. I felt weird, like "something isn't right" weird. I sent one of the editors an email as what happened. She just wrote back this week with two simple lines.

"The publisher cut your story. I'm so sorry."

I didn't sweat it, cause a large part of me felt something wasn't right about it. I went to a local Barnes & Noble to skim through the book. I even went online to read reviews about; only a handful. For the most part, people seem to like it, but as I found from reading one review, it doesn't really appeal to those of my age group. It's more for single women in their late 30s/early 40s and up. Maybe I was the "youngin" in the overall bunch? Who knows. It's cool. It was nice to know that at least the editors loved my work. I almost made it.

My stance has always been, I didn't want to publish a book for the sake of being published. I want it to have a message behind it. Something powerful... meaningful. Something along the lines of those that came before me in writing... like Toni Morrison, (my idol) Langston Hughes, Tony Medina, Lorraine Hanesberry and Octavia Butler. I want what I write to be classic and not so contemporary that it only last for that moment in time. In talking about some of these people in class this past week, it was just humbling to think about how connected we are to the folks considered to be part of the Black Arts Movement. As Dr. C went on to make the connection and distinction that we are the extension of the folks in the Black Arts Movement, and the reality that the movement is not dead, I literally got an electric charge throughout my body. I can't explain it... only to say.... something was truly evoked.  

Every now and then my grandparents on my father side take up residence in my brain. The talented pair. My grandmother the secretary and violinist. My grandfather the school teacher and local playwright. I wonder what Granddaddy Browne would say if I was face to face with him at this moment.

Sometimes I ponder if I'm chasing after something because I want it or is it really chasing me so much so that I can't deny it. Maybe it's chasing me. Maybe it's the chase that makes me feel ill anytime I would job search and come across ads or emails from friends about administrative positions. I simply tell them thanks and promptly delete. Not because I think I'm above such a position, hell I did it for nearly ten years. I did my time. Time to fly. Maybe it's the chase that ran me back to school. Maybe it's the chase that makes me volunteer my time to cover stories outside of my assigned beat or outside of what I have to do period.  I'm actually loving it.

The fact that I asked to be assigned to my ward and get to flex my creative skills through feature writing is right in my element. It's a niche. The fact that I'm more involved in my community affairs is soooo not by accident. The fact that I volunteered to cover tonight's arts event is sooooooooo not by accident.

Tonight's event - my ward has an arts collaborative, that sponsored a wine socializing event for local artists from the ward at a downtown location. Again that electric charged surged through my body as I began to realize the wealth of artists that live in walking distance from me. True blue painters, photographers, writers, illustrators, graphic designers... every medium of art. Wonderful people who are underrepresented and underrated. Naturally I exchanged info with quite a few of them. Some I'll actually be talking to this week as I work on my next article and yes I'm joining the collaborative.

I left tonight's event feeling as if I've met my brethren. Ironically, I had already known a few from meeting with them in the past. Though it was sleeting by the time I left, I strutted up I Street to my car. I just felt... I don't know.. different.

That's how I've been feeling overall these past few days.....

Different.

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Ten years ago this year I graduated from high school.

My next door neighbor "K" is a senior at my alma mata.  Ironically her aunt is the music/choir instructor there - thanks in part to my mom who told her about the opening during my freshman year when the janky instructor at the time was being a bit of a scatter brain.

Lately I've been taking a special notice in K.  It's hard to believe she is the same "girl" who would stick up under her aunt during our choir rehearsals. This is same chic that would get a kick out of my father's antics and would bring him a small token back from her family vacation. In a way I've unspokenly called her my little sis, especially since her schooling sorta followed in my foot steps.  Aside from  high school, she also attended the same elementary/jr high I attended.

Nevertheless, I've taken some joy or delight in watching K grow up before my eyes. I've figured this must be what it felt like for my long time neighbors to watch me grow in front of them. Proud and filled with a sense of pride. I'm even more excited for K as prom time is coming up. By my calculations (and if the school still runs on the same "graduation schedule") prom should either be this weekend or next. Graduation should be three weeks away.

In silently traveling the senior year journey with K, I can't help but to revisit some of my own feelings about my high school experience, especially as my class reunion is set for July. A couple of inquires have been sent to me via email or MySpace asking if I will be in attendance. I answered an old friend back via MySpace by telling her that most likely not. I hope to be doing some traveling around that time.  Another old friend, who I was close with back then and reconnected with via the internet, is a part of the committee. She's been keeping me informed of what's what - not to mention the postcard mailer and the reunion package sent to my house.  Then just the other day, a third friend sent me an email asking would I be there. I haven't responded.

My feelings about high school are very indifferent. Yes, there are a few people I would love to see again - mainly the few folks that survived high school with me. However, I really didn't like high school.  It was a Catholic institution with a diverse group of students but majority Black. We were probably considered the most (or perhaps one of the) ghetto schools in the Archdiocese. I say that in light of some of the "upper crust Catholic schools" I battled with on the tennis court during my time on the varsity tennis team. A lot of us (students) came from a decent background or home life and yet I still didn't like the school. For a while I use to think it was because of the people in the school. Something about everyone urk'd my very nature. I use to think "this one" was too childish or "that one" was spoiled beyond belief. I hated the cliques that presented itself during freshman and sophomore year and believe me by junior year I found myself shaking my head at a lot of dissovled friendships. 

No. I wasn't any kind of outcast or some reject that everyone ignored. No, I wasn't popular, but I had friends and I got along with most.  I stayed quite, only trusting a couple, and even then I wasn't all that telling. I was active in choir, tennis and was delighted when I did the photography class and helped out with the year book. Being an aspiring writer, I even helped to come up with something (a passage) to be painted on the school's shed (it's a senior tradition to paint the shed reflecting the school and class spirit of the current senior class)

Still I couldn't stomach high school. I now realize I was expriencing a (perhaps) pre mature growing pain... or maybe not. I blame my Aquarius nature - the wise beyond years "fluff" - because I was soooooooo ready to move on to the next phase of my life. By then I was working part-time in the federal government and I was looking forward to college..more so the (so-called) going away part of college. High school, though it had its excitement, bored me and frustrated me.  Also, I was partially "home-sick," meaning I was missing my "REAL" classmates that I had literally grown up with from Pre-k to 8th grade and desperately tried to stay in contact with. I managed to hold onto one, who after to all these years she still calls me her best friend and I do the same - even in our time of open space as we grew into adulthood.  

It was eneivitable. I was growing up. No turning back.

By my senior year I was in my own world. I still managed to function in school, but slightly talking less to my friends, which prompted some of them to wonder what was up with me and even lightly tease me for being so... "aloof."

After the research paper, finals, prom and graduation I was rid of "them." The class of 1998.

Every once in a while I would bump into someone. On my college campus. At my old OBGYN. At a grocery store. At Ben's Chilli Bowl @ 4 am after a night of clubbing. At the club. Online. On the subway train to work. At the mall.

Then MySpace happened.

(Curse Tom for creating such a daft site)

I won't lie. I was curious to know who turned out to be what and doing what close to ten years later. I sent  a couple of request. Virtually befriended some. Some sent a request to me. Perhaps a few I was shocked that they remembered me. I approved their request. Then some time later I began to get a funny feeling.  It was almost as if I were back in high school again. However, that feeling wasn't just contained to my old classmates, it was really for the whole site.

Then 2008 rolled in with announcements on the reunion.

When the talks first developed about the reunion, for a minute (just a minute) I contemplated on my attendance. Would I really care to see these folks again? In all honesty, no. Other than the couple of friendships from high school that managed to maintain after, I have no connection to my old classmates.

I feel "aloof" again as the excitement around the reunion builds.

I'm sure it will be a swell time for those involved, but I wish to do other things.

High school is so past tense in my book.

The public school system in the District of Columbia is in need of serious reform. This is a given.

Building repairs
Lack of funds
Low security staff
Etc, etc, etc,

Still, it seems that no one has the capacity or the know how to bring forth the needs of the system, while keeping the children first. Once Adrian Fenty was elected Mayor and took office a year ago, he was immediate in making some changes, but were they all for the better?  Among his abrupt change was firing the current superintendent of DC public school, renamed the position as "chancellor" and naming Michelle Rhee, an Asian, who only spent two years in a classroom before starting her own education consulting business. I mention her race, because though the culture of DC is slowly changing from "chocolate city" to a "melting pot", the majority of the students in the public school system still are Black. So yes, there is a culture (that does go beyond racial bounds) within the school system that perhaps Rhee and her (new) staff may not even understand. Various mishaps have occurred since she took office and I'm sure she is feeling the heat.

As Marion Barry, who sits on the city council representing Ward 8 (a ward that includes a majority of the city's low income residents), expained today - Rhee may have all these wonderful ideas, but she is a terrible manager.

Off and on, I've been watching the public hearing on an ongoing issue. School closures. Students, parents and community leaders are in an uproar because of the dictative - between Rhee and Fenty -  decision to close 23 schools, without consultanting the parents, students and teachers. The only reason that stands out (so far) for the closings is because of their low enrollment. Nothing else was considered. Originally, the schools were to close this month - January, the middle of a school year. However, I guess that was changed once the parents, students, school staff and communities got wind of the news - which initial broke via the Washington Post and not directly from the Chancellor's office to the community. That was a blow that sincerely hurt.

NO ONE was told, not even city council memebers, until someone picked up an article in the Washingon Post. That was a month or two ago. Immediately after that blow, Rhee had to appear before the city council to explain herself. I can say that was an interesting hearing to see.

"Lucy you have some 'splainin' to do!"

Today everyone gets to voice their concern, opinion, outrage, and plea their arugements as to why their school should remain open.  It's after 8 pm and the hearing is still going. It's been all day.

There are so many critical issues to consider in the plan to close the schools on the list, take those students and dump them into another school (aka consolidation).

1. There is the issue of academic programs offered through a school that is proposed to close. No one on the Chancellor's staff or the Chancellor herself has bothered to look into if their academic programs are effective.

2. Though enrollement may be down, has anyone bothered to look around and see what new developments are coming up around the school? New housing developments seems to be constantly sprouting throughout this city. I'm sure kids will be a part of these new communities and who is to say that thanks to the new communities the schools won't swell with students. Speaking of developments, some expressed concerned that if a school is closed that a developer is going to move in, convert the building into luxury lofts/condos..what have you.  It has happened!  

3. When you talk about consolidation, certain neighborhood kids don't mix. Unfortunately, like any other urban areas, DC does have its share of neighborhood turf "wars." Yes it can get violent and ugly. Someone needs to evaluate what schools can and cannot mix very closely.

4. Transportation inconviences to parents who may end up sending their kid(s) to an out of bounds school.

So why do I care? I'm not an educator. My child is not even school-age. I'm not even connected.......then again. I am connected. My mother is a retired assistant principal of the DC public school system. My godfather is a retired principal of the DC public school system. My extended family (close friends of my mother) are retired educators in the DC public system, with one still remaining as a principal of the night school end of a high school.

Since my mom has been retired, her and I speak often about the system...how all of the good, solid and caring educators left the system because it started to fail them. The children are suffering because of inexperience educators or those lack the capacity to sincerely care for them. She mentions frequently of the few good lone soliders that are still around, but they are either up for retirement or looking for other options just to escape the craziness of the system.

She event mentioned a military "militant" who was once the superintendent. The system ran smoothly under him. There was a lady she mentioned, who also ran things smoothly. However, something happened along the way when someone else came in. I guess priorities changed when money became an issue.  Before I knew it, my mother was coming home from work fuming about how some parents were withdrawing their child out of the school to place into a charter school.  Funny thing is, charter schools were/aren't cracked up as they make them out to be. Most parents end up pulling their child out of a charter school to put them back into a public school, especially after discovering that a charter school isn't accredited.

As I told my mother in a previous discussion, I just wish I had enough experience, manpower and money to pull together a solid public relations team. I firmly believe that DCPS needs a firm PR department to impliment a fool-proof strategy to get the enrollment numbers needed.  High enrollment, will attract new programs... funds will be needed.. funds can be supplied.. and boom..

Yet that is only in a perfect world.

If that is the case.. there is still another issue at hand it....test scores.

Vintage - Me, circa 1980

I feel fine, but I feel like crap.

Cold still persist even though I took one Benadryl tablet the other night.  I feel 50% better.  The other 50? Maybe I'll knock it out tonight with another tablet.

My doctor's visit went okay yesterday.  I just grew weary of giving up another urine sample (more to come) and more blood. All in the name of gestational diabetes.  I'll have the results in a week. Baby seems to be fine otherwise. Had a chance to hear the heartbeat.  Amazing of what is inside of me.

I'm having brunch on Sunday with a few friends.  This will be interesting.  Funny how all of my friends are claiming this child. Female friends wanting to be aunties and male friends wanting to be everything.... the daddy...the uncle... godfather. I'm appreciative of those that check on me every now and then, but I can't help but wonder how long will all of this attention last.  Will it continue even after it's born?

I had a nice talk with my godfather about a week ago.  I had been dying to tell him the news since I found out, but I just couldn't find the right time.  He had taken ill around the time I received the news in October.  Since that time he had been in and out of the hospital.  I didn't want to tell him while he was sick, especially since he is dealing with a heart condition.  I don't know.. but news about pregnancy can cause some interesting reactions. I just didn't want to take the chance with him and his heart and all. Nevertheless, I finally came around to telling him last week.  Surprised but not all that surprised... he knew.  Apparently my mother told him just before he had gone into the hospital.

We talked for about an hour about how happy he was for me and how he knew the child is blessed. Of course being the man of education he is (he is a a retired principal of a DC public junior high school, a Dr. of Education, a college professor at George Mason) he talked to me about how would I finish my Bachelor's degree.  We had this talk before, but it was during a time of turmoil in my college "career."  To this day, he still doesn't know the full story of why I decided to "take a break."

In my discussion with him last week, I told him I still desire to go back to finish out that one little semester and that I was working (baby stepping) on the process of getting this done. He's never come down harsh on me about my education, but in his own little loving authoritian way let me know that getting at least my BA is a must. Hell, I know how important it is!!!! My mother is a retired Assistant Principal of a DC public school, most of her close friends are all educators in either the DC school system or the neighboring PG County system in Maryland. Education has ALWAYS been a driving force in my life.  Maybe that's just it! by the time I reached college I was so burnt out and pressured to go into college that when I got there my brain went haywire.  I couldn't handle it after a certain point.  It's not that I didn't like attending the The Black Harvard (Howard - seriously their curriculum is modeled after Harvard University hence (one of) the nickname). I will always cherish the academic side of Howard, especially in the journalism and English departments. Being taught by former Heart and Soul Magazine Editor Yanick Rice Lamb, Washington Post Editor Bob Asher, poet Tony Medina and author E.R. Braithwaite (To Sir With Love) just doesn't get any better. Yet, I digress.

As my godfather continued to talk to me, of course he brought up the fact that finishing school is now more important than ever, especially since it's not about me anymore.  Advancing my education can only help enhance my child's life. I understood fully where he was coming from, especially as I'm still hunting for a better job. Funny, my resume speaks with a mix of both journalism/writing experience and education.  However, sometimes I wonder if I miss the mark a few paces because I don't have a degree listed on my resume.  Sure, I go have interviews.. maybe two or three.... yet I'm not chosen.

At any rate, I'm very determined to go back to finish, I just have to work twice has hard to be motivated to do so. After talking with my godfather, I felt a sense of renewal. I love our talks.  It's not hard to see that he will also be this child's godfather.

Speaking of education and my child.  I worry about my child's education even though it hasn't made its appearance yet.  So much to think about, especially when living in a city where the public school system is kind of failing.  With the new mayor, Adrian Fenty, talking about following the New York City model, I'm not so sure. Fenty wants to take control of the school system and have the school board serve as some kind of an advisory board.  Again, I'm not so sure about this.  DC is not like any regular city.  For one we are a FEDERAL district and not a state. There is so much to this that people who aren't born and raised here just don't get it.  Fenty, while he is a native Washingtonian I still don't believe he has a clue about how to run this city. Again.. I'll digress.

Oh I was talking about the school system. Well as far as following another city's model, it's a bit shaky.  Especially if you are talking about adopting a bigger city's model into political system as unique as DC is. Again, we are not like any other city.   

So where will my child go for its education? 

Perhaps private school...