dahlia

"When you have only two pennies left in the world, buy a loaf of bread with one, and a lily with the other."

- Chinese proverb

with the curl

Haircuts can be traumatic when your hair is curly.

In Japan, I nearly drove a stylist to tears. Other stylists were consoling her because nobody wanted to touch my head. Fortunately, teaching has provoked me to grow some thick skin. Rather than be offended, I mostly felt sorry for the poor thing.

In the US, despite the general prevalence of curly folk, shockingly few people cut such hair well.

Last night I caved. I got my hair cut and highlighted by someone who had been trained to cut with the curl rather than try to brush and yank and blowdry it into something that looked sensible. She actually said cutting my hair was fun! Fun! A word that has NEVER been applied to my head.

I gave her a solid tip.

sweet home

I listen to the distant rush of wind across the mouth of the chimney, and I trace the staccato rhythm of light as it skips across the carpet. My sister strums a guitar in her bedroom upstairs, starts and stops in the refreshingly frank way of those unashamed of the learning curve.

My eyes drink in. My eyes well up. The rich wood, the textures of fabric, the contours of familiar faces.

A new sound: a tiny antique clock marks the seconds, grabs them and proceeds.

Last night my sisters flitted off to youth group and my father to a prayer meeting while my mother and I occupied opposite couches and observed the waning light. We spoke of movies, child development, education, my grandfather's cancer. She asked about men. The sky above the church blushed but we did not. There were pauses. I grabbed a book and she a newspaper. The seconds ticked on. We talked about going out but didn't. My father joined us. We drank coffee. We yawned. We just sat. For a long, long time. Until the sky was utterly black and a chill had fallen.

Since I've last come home, my parents have replaced the kitchen's dusty blue paint with a warm muted yellow. Below the chair rail are vertical white stripes that transition to a picket fence in the hallway. Over Christmas, I am to paint vines here, but for now the white picket fence stands without irony, marking the idyll.

the final countdown

Exactly two weeks from today, classes will begin. I still have a long checklist of things I want or need to accomplish in order to feel prepared, but I've made my paper countdown chain to prepare my emotional self.

Here's my countdown chain:


And below is my chart of my emotional journey over the last month, (expressed in convenient pie charts!) The process of acclimation and curriculum design has been overwhelming at times, but on the whole, I now feel like I'm at a good place.

the downside

Leaving school today, I stopped in at the Angora Cafe across the street for a smoothie. As I sipped and read, I also noted the ominous darkening sky. I thought perhaps I would be wise to catch the train home soon before the heavens opened up.

It seems I had this thought about fifteen minutes too late. Standing at the Babcock Street stop, I had just a few seconds before I felt small dots of moisture. Then the drops became more frequent and larger... like speedy little peas. And then they were furious little apricots. Apricots of water dropping on my head, down my neck, puddling about my toes.

By the time the train arrived, my teeth were chattering and my gray dress was plastered against my body. Half the papers in my bag were soaked, and black rivulets of mascara traced all the way down my face.

I was a sight. I walked in the door of my apartment, ripped off my clothes, and took a nap. For four hours.

So although I'm happy to be eco-friendly and have noticed better muscle definition in my calves from all the walking I've done, today I would have welcomed a car.

"you can surely try to be more alive"

On the same block as my school, a mere twenty minute walk from my apartment, Mates of State played last night.

Their opening band was interesting. Judgement Day is an instrumental San Francisco-based band comprised of a violinist, a cellist, and a drummer. Think of a cross-pollination between Y0-Yo-Ma and Korn. Somebody's orchestra teachers would be proud. I've never heard such angry strings. They were.... exhillarating. I sort of loved it.

And there's little more romantic in the world than a husband-wife band. Kori Gardner and Jason Hammel were brilliant. Shocker. I'm glad I went.

(Sorry for the low-res pictures. It was either that or try to use my flash, and I'll resist false lighting until the bitter end, even if my ISO is pushed to extremities.)

I'm so dizzy, my head is spinning. Like a whirlpool, it never ends.

I feel like I should apologize for failing to write here, but I think I won't. Because, in the end, I'm living a lot and writing only a little. I'm planning and dreaming and scheming and baking and carousing... okay, not carousing.

But my brain really is spinning all over the place, thinking about the place of narrative in history and how to find entry points on some of the more abstruse elements of curriculum. I've been considering what I want this chapter of my life to look like, how I want to order it, where I want to place emphasis.

Some things that I've experienced lately:

1. Revere Beach Sand-sculpting contest
2. Lauren and Jim Shaw's home in Woodstock Vermont - a veritable Stars' Hollow! Lauren and I attended the self-named "World's Greatest Book Sale" at the Unitarian Church. The sale also featured a table of "ethnic foods" -- hot dogs, chili (Mexico?), quiche, and gazpacho. Also, a minstrel. Later, we went to a Shakespearean performance at the town hall/movie theater. Lauren tells me that on Thursdays they might have a zoning committee meeting, and then on Friday the entire town turns out to see a showing of Wall-E. Moreover, the entire town is blanketed with flowers. It's completely surreal. I'm so going back, particularly for the Wassail Festival in December. Here is a completely typical house and lawn:
3. AP US History conference - Though I won't be teaching AP, I'll be preparing my students for it. I learned a lot about the skills the students will need, but also what it feels like to be in a classroom listening to lecture. I must never forget this feeling. It's probably good to take one class every year, if only for this reason.
4. Taught myself to make baguettes - So easy! Only four ingredients! Time-consuming, but simple. Here's the recipe I used.
5. Walden Pond - I chaperoned a freshman field trip to Concord where we saw the actual Walden Pond, a reconstruction of Thoreau's house (tiny!) and a statue of Thoreau himself (also tiny!)
6. Welcome dinner for the MATCH Corps - The MATCH Corps are the recent graduates who will be living at the school and tutoring the students all year. There were 648 applicants for less than 60 openings. Thus, the ones who got the spots are really impressive. Their average SAT scores are in the 1400-1500 pt. range (in the old 1600-max system). Smart cookies. And speaking of cookies, we ate them. We also ate some of the best lasagna I've ever tasted. I even got to help cook the fancy-schmancy lasagna! What fun!