Witness.
by Kristin on March 21, 2012
Today my students taught me–as they do again and again–that the best part of being a teacher is being a witness to their creativity, imagination, and incredible possibility. My favorite moments are the ones I can’t even take credit for; I might give them one little idea, but they take it to places I didn’t even know existed. They are thirsty for the chance to show what they can do. I want to start getting out of their way. I want to give them more space. Today I am grateful to be a witness.
Food rules.
by Kristin on January 23, 2012
I love to eat. Over the years I have learned to channel (most of) my emotional eating into emotional cooking, and the results are highly satisfying. I think I’m a pretty good cook! My small 1-bedroom apartment has a relatively large, open kitchen, and I love spending time in there, chopping and mixing and sauteing and baking. I can’t think of a better way to spend a weekend afternoon than recipe planning, grocery shopping, and then cooking away with a glass of wine, watching the light change in my kitchen window. Sometimes I prefer longer or more complex recipes, like a risotto or this spinach gratin, just so I can have more time.
I get most of my ideas and recipes from online food blogs, which are just as lovely to look at as they are to cook from. I also get a lot from the narrative experience these writers share–food with a story. My all-time favorite Smitten Kitchen (I’m steadily making my way through each and every recipe, and have yet to be disappointed) is followed closely by Dinner: A Love Story (love that the dinner table is the center of this family), Joy the Baker (for obvious carbohydrate needing reasons), Roost (the photographs make the food look too good to eat), and Spoon Fork Bacon (awesome name, awesome design, awesome food), to name just a few. I actually have 54 food blogs in my google reader. I look at them during passing time at work to give my eyes and mind a 30 second nourishment break. It may be an addiction.
I do, however, tend to stay in my comfort zone of soups, risottos, pastas, pizzas, breads, salads, and stir-fries. For Christmas I asked for a bunch of cookbooks to help push me out into deeper cooking territory–and my wishes were granted! I got:
This has been on my mental wish-list for awhile now, and will go a long way in helping me accomplish my goal of roasting a whole chicken!
I knew I had to have this after dinner at my friend Molly’s–delightful, simple recipes that are a slight twist away from what I’m used to.
My mom gifted this one too me–the Portland author includes many delicious looking fish and seafood recipes that make me food-sick for the West Coast. It’s harder to find good quality (and affordable) fish or seafood out here in the land of corn, but these recipes make me want to splurge!
A hippy classic that I’ve wanted forever! I had the Eggplant Enchiladas years ago and haven’t forgotten about it yet.
I also asked for–and received–this lovely collaboration between Michael Pollan (life-changing food writer…Omnivore’s Dilemma was food turning point for me) and artist Marla Kalman (I love Max!).
So then last weekend came and I found myself with the perfect Saturday night–nothing to do but cook and eat. I sat down with my new books with giddy anticipation. What will I cook?! I found myself, however, going through each of the books over and over, and finding nothing I wanted to eat. Nothing looked good, nothing looked…familiar. I was frustrated. Wasn’t cooking from them the point of getting them? But shouldn’t I also cook what I like? I found myself wanting to return to my tried and true food blogs, but Peter knew what was up. He said we had to cook from the cookbooks.
It was a good call. We ended up making couscous and harissa stuffed tomatoes (what is harissa you ask? We did too.) and a garlic-rosemary white bean dip, served with salty sesame crackers, both from Super Natural Every Day. It was delicious. I could eat that bean dip every day indeed, and plan to experiment infusing the oil with different flavors…I think basil would be perfect. I was a little intimidated by the new-to-me styles, but now feel ready to jump into Joy of Cooking, and maybe someday soon, that roast chicken.
Chill. Out.
by Kristin on December 11, 2011
This weekend I let something get under my skin that I should have ignored, and before you know it my two days of week-end are over and I am, well, more emotionally exhausted than the situation really deserved. But someone wrote an article attempting to malign my profession and its teachers, and frankly, I am getting so tired of all the teacher hate-talk that seems to be multiplying like fungi out there. I usually ignore this junk, and I should have this time–oh but for foresight. Instead, I spent an hour or so of my Friday night composing my (well-written and researched) reply, only to be shamed, bullied, and accused of horrible things in return, worst of all that I don’t believe in my students (oh yeah, and I’m simple-minded and racist. What?!).
Well, that’s obviously not true. And this man doesn’t even know me. Forget the fact that he’s supposed to be a leader in my community–he obviously doesn’t know how to have a respectful or even intelligent dialogue about teaching and learning without resorting to inaccurate and hurtful jabs. But, me who takes everything so personally, took it personally, and yes, cried for awhile.
It’s not worth it. I know that. The work I do–that so many do–has value absolutely independent of this man’s ignorant ideology. As my mother told me, I have better things to do with my time and energy (thanks Mom!). So I told myself to chill out, and did, somewhat successfully, and so want to give honor to the simple things today that helped me:
1. The man in my life, who somehow knows exactly what to do when I’m unreasonably falling apart.
2. Percolator punch. Which may or may not have been slightly spiked.
3. Choral music.
4. A mug of dark coffee.
5. The newest episode of Bones (hard to stay focused on my own problems when there’s a murder to solve! With bones!)
6. My mom, just a phone call away.
7. Vegan pizza–delivered!
8. Marcel the Shell, who knows what’s going on: “I like myself and I have a lot of other great qualities as well.” Preach it.
first snow
by Kristin on November 19, 2011
It’s the first snowfall of the year, and I am celebrating with a little quiet yoga, some easy cleaning, and a lunch of homemade black bean soup and pumpkin bread. I need to venture out to get some butter for a cake I’m making and also, possibly, treat myself to a new sweater (!), but for now I am sitting in my chair by the window, looking out at the falling slow that is the first of many white snowfalls to come, and feeling grateful that Garrison Keillor saw fit to include a whole section of snow poems in his anthology. Welcome winter.
“Not Only the Eskimos”
by Lisel Mueller
We have only one noun
but as many different kinds.the grainy snow of the Puritans
and snow of soft, fat flakes,guerrilla snow, which comes in the night
and changes the world by morning,rabbinical snow, a permanent skullcap
on the highest mountains,snow that blows in like the Lone Ranger,
riding hard from out of the West,surreal snow in the Dakotas,
when you can’t find your house, your street,
though you are not in a dream
or a science-fiction movie,snow that tastes good to the sun
when it licks black tree limbs,
leaving us only one white stripe,
a replica of a skunk,unbelievable snows:
the blizzard that strikes on the tenth of April,
the flast snow before Indian summer
the Big Snow on Mozart’s birthday,
when Chicago became the Elysian Feilds
and strangers spoke to each other,paper snow, cut and taped
to the inside of grade-school windowsin an old tale, the snow
that covers a nest of strawberries,
small hearts, ripe and sweet,the special snow that goes with Christmas,
whether it fall or not,the Russian snow we remember
along with the warmth and smell of our furs,
though we have never traveled
to Russia or worn furs,Villon’s snows of yesteryear,
lost with ladies gone out like matches,
the snow in Joyce’s “The Dead,”
the silent, secret snow
in a story by Conrad Aiken,
which is the snow of first love,the snowfall between the child
and the spacewoman on TV,snow as idea of whiteness,
as in snowdrop, snow goose, snowball bush,the snow that puts stars in your hair,
and your hair, which has turned to snow,the snow Elinor Wylie walked in
in velvet shoes,the snow before her footprints
and the snow after,the snow in the back of our heads,
whiter than white, which has to do
with childhood again each year.
Arbitrary Rules.
by Kristin on November 12, 2011
Hi. I’ve realized that, when it comes to this blog, I’ve set up all of these arbitrary rules in my head about how all of my posts must relate to teaching, learning, education, etc., and that everything I write must be eloquent.
Well. I haven’t been posting much, because sometimes at the end of a long day with 165 needy-energetic-joyful-awkward-inspiring-frustrating-loud-lovely students (some of whom don’t know what a NOUN IS! I’m SERIOUS! And (tangent) this random gap in their knowledge has led me to point out parts of speech as a I talk (“Look how quickly–ADVERB!–you all focused!). It’s not pretty.).
There are many things I think about and think about writing about, some of which have to do with teaching and learning and some of which don’t. And I don’t always have the time/energy to make my posts perfect. But my arbitrary rules have kept me from posting very much, and I’m saying now that this must stop.
Friends, look forward.
(hehe).
Always been like a hummingbird.
by Kristin on October 10, 2011
I haven’t blogged in a long time. I skipped all of September.
The truth is, I don’t feel much like blogging when I’m uninspired, overwhelmed, tired, stressed, frustrated, lost…all words I’ve used to describe myself over the past six weeks. Basically since school started.
I know, wah wah. But it’s the truth, and it’s a truth I haven’t felt proud to proclaim on the pages of this blog. What teacher feels proud of daydreaming about another job?
Because that’s what I’ve been doing. I even went so far as to look at job openings. Not that I would ever apply, not that I’d ever leave my job or my students in the middle of the year, but looking at jobs that exist for only 8-9 hours a day, that let you leave your work at your desk instead of taking it home every night in not one but two (two!) book bags, that may let you sleep a whole night without dreaming of grading, that let you go a whole weekend without work on the mind…man that just sounds like bliss.
This isn’t easy for me to admit. I want to be the bright and shiny Best Teacher Ever, even in the midst of these difficult weeks when I question my life choices. I was talking about all of this with a fellow teacher-friend, and she had a good point. We who are teachers don’t just see what we do as a job, or even a vocation–it is our identity. And so when we question our job, it’s like we’re questioning our identity. Who am I if not a teacher? And who am I if I’m an unhappy teacher? Am I anyone at all?
Fall is my favorite time of year. The way a setting sun lights up the deep reds and yellows of the trees just dazzles me. I have wanted to spend this season reveling, but instead I feel…weighted down.
I don’t like that I have to make the choice between getting exercise or grading at night, because who has energy for both? I don’t like that cooking a meal from scratch and sitting down to relax makes me feel guilty. I don’t like that spending time with people I love means walking into work the next day feeling less prepared. And it’s not just all I have to do…it’s the responsibility of it all. I feel like I need to work so hard to be sure I give every single kid what he or she needs. I don’t like that I feel I don’t have enough in me for all of it, and that that may never change. And is that the life I choose?
I don’t know. I do know that the students themselves are what keep me here, and give me purpose, even in the midst of this low season.
I also know that I may not teach forever. I thought about that a lot this fall. I’m not very proud, but it’s the truth, and why not be honest.
I saw The Weepies in concert this September and was reminded again how much their words and music speak to me. My current song-on-repeat speaks of an insatisfaction that lies within us, constantly. I’ve always been a dreamer, as much enthralled by the dream and plan of something as its realization. I think that may be where I am right now…just dreaming and dreaming of what comes next. Does that mean I’ll never be satisfied? Or that my life will always be new? My challenge to myself is to not let all of these questions and doubts keep me from living here, now, too.
Always been like a hummingbird, and I can’t keep still. Listen up lover, listen up: I never will.
Phew.
by Kristin on August 15, 2011
I’m glad the internet is out there to remind me of the important things in life, or at least in teaching.
My back-to-school insomnia has returned full force, and I’ve been lying bed for the past three hours with my computer on my lap, trying to organize and tackle all the lists and plans and details and organizational systems that must be completed perfectly before my first student even walks in the door! Or else! My go-to task when I’m feeling this anxious is to organize my Google calendar, which helps me feel productive in a pretty meaningless and non-threatening way. But now every holiday and birthday and meeting is scheduled and color-coded, so…
And then I took a break to look on the internet, and found a post by one of my teacher heroes, Donalyn Miller. Phew. Is this ever what I needed. Her post– “Reading, What’s Love Got to Do with It?”–addresses the question of whether we can teach students to love reading. Since this is one of my main goals as a teacher, and basically in life, I’m curious. Can we? Well, it depends on what you believe teaching and learning is all about. Miller says: “If we see teaching as the design and delivery of lessons which result in students’ mastery of targeted learning objectives (don’t laugh, a lot of politicians define teaching this way), then no, I don’t think you can teach children to love reading.” (Um, please don’t tell her that these are exactly the things I’ve been losing my hair over the past few days!)
Pretty bleak, right? But she goes on:
Much of what we learn in life comes from the people around us and our societal norms and values. Teachers and the other adults in children’s lives serve as role models and mentors of acceptable and desired behaviors. Teaching reading, in my mind, includes fostering and promoting reading habits and role modeling a reading life for children. As Proverbs 22:6 charges us, “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” Talking with hundreds of adult readers during my travels, most credit at least one person in their lives–a parent, grandparent, sibling, teacher, librarian, or friend–who nurtured and encouraged their love for reading at a pivotal stage during their childhoods.
Phew. Thank you. You need to read the article yourself to get the full weight of it, but suffice it to say that I’m putting my computer away and getting back to my book, and then maybe (maybe) to sleep.
moving on
by Kristin on August 4, 2011
Well, summer school is over, and I obviously failed at my goal of blogging more often! The most important lesson I learned the past six weeks is that I really do need a break from teaching…and this wasn’t really the way to get it. It was an okay experience, but not one that I think I’ll repeat. It did make me so grateful for my own classroom in a school with such a strong sense of community and purpose…I’m ready to get back there and remember that education can be about joy, not just discipline. I give huge props to anyone who really enjoys teaching summer school! I won’t go so far as to say that it was exactly like all of my anxiety-induced teaching nightmares come true, but, well, you get the idea.
I did realize it’s difficult for me to be in a situation where I don’t feel like I’m doing a good job, for a variety of reasons, most of which I know are external to who I am as a person and a teacher. But I guess I’m still trying to get that A+.
I have one week before heading back to work for real, and I’m flying to Seattle tonight to spend it with my family. We’ll be camping for the first few days and I plan to read all of these books. I am excited.
Everybody Needs
by Kristin on June 26, 2011
The school year ended a little over two weeks ago, and thanks to naps and movies and books and food and good friends I’m just now starting to feel rested and sane again…just in time for summer school!
Yes, summer school starts tomorrow. I’m lucky to be teaching an elective poetry class, which basically means I get six weeks to gush about poetry with 5th and 6th grade students who may or may not care very much and, let’s be honest, may possibly even resent me for being a symbol of their stolen summer. But we are going to have fun!
I’m going to try to be better about chronicling my summer school adventures on this blog, but first I want to share some pictures of the amazing project we ended our school year with. My students worked with the Minnesota Center for Book Arts to create their own multi-genre books connected to their service-learning projects (mostly working with our two school/community gardens) and inspired by the book Everybody Needs a Rock by Byrd Baylor. As a class we talked about social responsibility and what we owe each other as human beings, and students each chose something they believe everybody needs to complete their title (Everybody Needs Food, Everybody Needs a Home, Everybody Needs Inspiration, etc.).
I was blown away by their creativity and dedication to this project, and shown once again that the hope and heart of a child is something we should all strive to embody ourselves.
even if it’s sunday may i be wrong
by Kristin on May 6, 2011
This past month I’ve had lots of ideas rolling and rumbling around in my head, ideas that may turn into blog posts but haven’t yet found good-enough grounding. Thoughts about how to actually build a strong curriculum (one that helps kids learn in real life, not just on paper), facing professional challenges, the purpose and possible uses of doubt, making school a place for all kids (not just the easy ones), returning to the joys of reading, handling crazy 6th grade hormones, thoughts and dreams for next year (and how I’d like to do so many things differently), book lists, summer plans for teaching and learning and maybe relaxing…
But then I wake up this morning and it’s a perfect spring day (finally), and it’s Friday, and I remember this poem by e.e. cummings that gives me such permission to not know. Permission to not have the answers, permission to be imperfect. In fact, imperfection is better! It amazes me that I don’t even know until remembering that this is just the thing I need to hear, and the knowledge of it feels like sweet relief. Grace. Such is the power of poetry, and sunshine.
“may my heart always be open to little”
by e.e. cummings
may my heart always be open to little
birds who are the secrets of living
whatever they sing is better than to know
and if men should not hear them men are oldmay my mind stroll about hungry
and fearless and thirsty and supple
and even if it’s sunday may i be wrong
for whenever men are right they are not youngand may myself do nothing usefully
and love yourself so more than truly
there’s never been quite such a fool who could fail
pulling all the sky over him with one smile