more books

This exercise: one book made me think of more books that I love and have made an impact on my life, so I'm expanding the list of influential books. It's the sort of think that never will be complete, but it was interesting to see what I remember...I guess the fact that I remember reading it stands for something.

elementary years:

Ramona
i loved Ramona, and all Beverly Cleary books, because I related to her, and to those dear dear children, that lived on a block, just like anyone else's block.

middle school:

Anne books
always dear, always emotive, always ridiculously dramatic, and always loveable.

high school:

Pride and Prejudice
most real characters ever.
dearest love story.
(basically anything jane austen i read through)

Jane Eyre
best moody complex characters.a story to wrap you up completely

and poetry: I got to like it in 11th grade: John Donne, especially

college....
sophomore year:

Red China Blues
the first time I ever learned about China, and I was floored to hear about Mao's cultural revolution and Tiananmen Square. I lost that book on the way home. Wish I still had it.

Bridge to Terebithia by Katherine Paterson
i read that in a children's lit. class, and I think it was for the first time. So so good: why had I never read it before?

junior year:

books on adolesence: Reviving Ophelia and Lost Boys
that was eye opening, and tear jerking.

senior year:

The Schools We Need, And Why We Don't Have Them
that got me on a kick about nationalized curriculums...my feelings have subsided some.

In The Middle
which got me excited about teaching writing, but made me realize how hard it is.

in slovakia:

Most of these books are due to the Sonlight Curriculum that kept us all reading.

A Long Road From Home
first time I ever heard of the Arminean genocide.

Walk Two Moons
i remember reading this on my couch in my Slovak flat, not wanting to stop for lunch, or to do anything productive, and then just crying, because it was so good. And I had to finish it before it was time forLaurel to read it.
dear use of language.fantistic layering of stories, mystery unfolding.if I could choose to make a book into a movie, i'd chose this.

To Kill a Mockingbird
I read it for the first time in June while traveling through England with Briana and I was torn between travels through interesting and beautiful land, and a book that captivated me.
The next year, reading it again, my love was confirmed:
favorite book. best girl ever.best book made into a movie ever.best dad played on the silver screen.

teaching in atlanta:

Les Miserables
i had read this the summer between my freshman and sophmore years of college, but it didn't make nearly as much an impression as it did when I taught it fall 2004.
deep story of love, forgiveness and mercy.

Huck Finn
i've gotten to like this book more the more I read it. Huck is a funny narrator, and I love the nuances that catch you when you read it again, and again slower.
incredible language. deep insight into mankind.best quotes ever.

The Hiding Place
humbling, suffering, forbearing, loving, and true to history.

God's Smuggler
knock the socks off your faith.
painting clear picture of communist bloc Europe.

Fraulein Kate

This is my favorite day of teaching all year. Hands down.

The students turned in our best project. They did some preliminary research on the basics of the first world war warfare. Then they had to hide their research in a disguise. (They were German spies and they had to turn it in to me, their platoon leader.) Their disguises were so creative. Several of them hid it in baked goods...brownies, a cake, cupcakes. A few hid the reserach in mechanical pencils. One student cut open a bunch of tea bags and put little messages in each one and then stapled them again. One student made a lunch pail with a trap bottom. It was like I was getting presents all day long. I got a chocolate bar. There was a 'deck of cards' and even a pack of cigarettes. They were so creative!


On top of this I'm teaching a unit World War I which is probably my favorite thing to teach. And we're reading All Quiet and, on the 4th reading, I don't feel that it's as bad as I remember it being. (Not that I ever thought it's a bad book; I agree it's an excellent book, but I just don't like reading it because it's so difficult, so depressing. But it is good, and we've been having good discussions.)

And, we are studying the Impressionists for the next few days which is fun, and we're about to start my second favorite project which I will definitely describe in a future post.


Also, if you haven't listened to the Weepies song (in the side bar) then you Gotta. It's addictive.

America Songs

This might come close to being last year's song.
(For obvious reasons, I think, but namely that I put this song as the first track on my Traveling Across America cd and now can almost sing through the entire song.)

See CP's blog for another fun one.

Songs for traveling across America:

1. East Coast/West Coast. by Singing Mechanic
2. Wakko's America by Animaniacs
3. Sweet Home Alabama by Lynyrd Skynyrd
4. Stuck in Mobile with You by Bob Dylan
5. City Beneath the Sea by Harry Connick Jr.
6. Waltz across Texas by Emmylou Harris
(which is beautiful, and especially wonderful when you're sweeping across the flatlands of Texas)
7. California by Joni Mitchell
8. Iowa by Dar Williams
9. Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen (because, I just learned, it's the state song of NJ)
10. Carolina In My Mind by James Taylor
11. Oh, Atlanta by Alison Krauss
12. Rainy Night in Georgia by Tony Joe White (of which Hem has a beautiful rendition)
13. You're My Home by Billy Joel
14. America by Simon and Garfunkle

there's more to add to that list, but it's time for bed.

hugo is alive

I am relieved to be able to say that my frog is doing well.

Due to detailed circumstances that I don't have time to elaborate on just now, I acquired a fish tank with three goldfish which I brought to my classroom. There were four, but Pete died on the first day of school. A few weeks later I went to buy some more creatures that might cut down on the scum in the tank. I'm not sure they help, but I bought two a-d-o-r-a-b-l-e frogs which we named Victor and Hugo, since we were reading Les Miserables. I love frogs, and I especially love our frogs. They swim around our tank happily, or stick their noses in the rocks. They kick their tiny back legs and then float around with their four limbs sprawled out. They are excessively small and seem fragile (though I admit have survived a few tank-changing catastrophes).

A few days ago I noticed that Hugo was very skinny. The frogs are just a few millimeters thick and about a centimeter wide. Hugo was under a half-centimeter, I'm sure. And when I saw that he couldn't really move around, I was pretty upset. We transfered him to his own little tank with less water so he could reach his food and air. I think it was probably the fresh water that saved him. Today I look at them in their clean tank, and they are swimming happily.

I wrote this poem about my fish a few months ago, and always meant to post it.



webbed footed friends

fall

silently like

leaves

through air

their back legs

p u s h

and they glide noiselessly

floating

through water

old friends

This seemed at first a strange concurrence...but actually I think it is an act of God. I don't mean that in the cliche, but I really see His hand in what might have seemed a coincidence.

In the context of Facebook, I was thinking last week about old friends and how bad I am at keeping in touch after I've moved away. And I fear what will happen if I leave here, even with those high expectations, as always, to keep in the best of touch. And I don't want to be like that.

Later, while perusing through a long list of links of old friends' blogs, I thought about why I have a hard time re-connecting with someone after a long time. Partly, when you've gone so long without talking, it's hard to know what would be news. I mean, last night's parent meeting wouldn't be interesting, so it's like you have to have big news to re-initiate. The other aspect is that I think I begin to feel guilty about my lack of communication, or maybe I feel adrift because I haven't heard from them in so long. And that makes it harder to make the call.

As I was lamenting this, I came to the conclusion that the answer is not to fear what time has elapsed, and to dissipate any feelings of guilt that lie between me and initiating new conversation. I thought maybe I could resolve to do better this new year (if I could just think of something worth catching them up on in my life).

And then, in answer to my new desire, I heard from two long-lost friends this very week!

I feel like the doors swung wide open, and I am resolved to do better.

a recollection of 2006

What did you do in 2006 that you'd never done before?
Drive 11,000 miles in one summer

Did anyone close to you give birth?
My sister had a boy! On August 23, 2006 John Thomas was born.

What was the best thing you bought?
A National Park pass that let me see at least 15 national parks for $50.

What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Wyoming.

What song will always remind you of 2006?
Songs on this post.

What do you wish you'd done more of?
Bike. Bake. rake, race, face, fate, date, dote, dole, done.
this is a very interesting exercise (and not honest). I wish I had blogged more. It's always interesting to read what I've written in the past - to pick up on my mood of one evening, to remember what was going on in my mind. Last year I wish I had remembered to read and write the letters to myself that I write on my birthday, but my tradition of 10 years was forgotten.

What do you wish you'd done less of?
vacillate.

How did you spend the holidays?
In NJ with family.

What was the best book you read?
God's Smuggler

What was your favorite film of this year?
Mostly Martha

Whom did you miss?
Kailin, until I got a Christmas card from my long lost friend!

Who was the best new person you met?
Mark! My nephew, who is a ball of joy and delight. I guess I sort of met him when he was a few weeks old in 2005, but as far as personality goes, I couldn't have much to say then. But in Alaska, this summer in TX, and this Christmas I got to hang out with him, and he is awesome! His cheeks smile all the time, and his whole face lights up. It seems he is always happy. He wasn't talking yet this Christmas--just making H? sounds, which will be forever ingrained in my memory. He was a good communicator for one without words.

the wish jar

I like this site: wish jar

I especially enjoyed this.

Thanks, Leah. =)

David, Carol and I in beautiful, white Alaska with sled dogs!

11 reasons to read Chronicles I

by Bob Dylan

• "There'd be no future for that stuff in the future."


• "A couple of times, I hooked up with a girl I knew from the Cafe Wha?, a waitress who was good to the eye."


• "The place had an overpowering presence of literature and you couldn't help but lose your passion for dumbness."


• "Up until this time I'd been raised in a cultural spectrum that left my mind black with soot."


• "She'd usually be with the type of guys that looked like private detectives."


• "Delores was wearing a long beaver fur coat over a nightgown that looked like a dress."


• "I crammed my head full of as much of this stuff as I could stand and locked it away in my mind out of sight, left it alone. Figured I could send a truck back for it later."


• "I felt myself sitting there and degenerating into boorishness, felt like two parts of my self were beginning to battle."


• "I just got a cosmic hit in the pants. I probably should have been wearing steel underwear."


• "Be like Gene Kelly and go singing in the rain even in a downpour. If I did that I'd get pneumonia."


• "It might be interesting to try the conventional life for a while."

And I just like this, from Leopard Skin Pillbox Hat:
"Well, you must tell me, baby, how your head feels under something like that."



If this doesn't help explain why I like Dylan, I really am not sure what else to say.

(Except maybe this.)

Things I'd rather do than grade

sleep in,
drink coffee,
read blogs,
make bread,
blog,
organize,
bike ride,
clean,
shower,
make tea,
email,
meet at Brickstore with friends

...and many other things, but this is what filled this Saturday, leaving me 4 more papers to grade on Sunday, which I think will be rainy anyway.

rooms

The first room I remember growing up is the one I shared with my older sister Ruth. We had the larger of the two back bedrooms with bunkbeds my father built. I recall lying on the lower bunk late at night pretending I was asleep, but trying to stay awake to see if I could fool my sister. No doubt she was fooled because she didn't think twice about it. She would sit at the big desk doing her homework. Sometimes I would say something, and she would tell me I should have been asleep hours ago. I wonder why I remember that of all things? We had these funky lamps that must have been 70s style, but I wouldn't have known. They had plastic shades and one time I left a glow worm on the top of one, to help it to light it up, and it melted.

After Ruth moved up to the 3rd floor, I shared the room with my little sister, Carol. I don't remember the transition, but I do recall disputes in that room. Carol and I played together a lot, but we also argued and once had a line drawn down the middle of the room. That didn't last for long, but I know I wasn't always eager to have her in my things.

At one point, probably when I was about 11 or 12, I got my own room. I remember wanting the front bedroom, and later hoping I could move up into the 3rd floor when my sisters vacated it, but that never happened. I got the small back bedroom with bunny rabbit paper, no doubt already 10+ years old. I, a lover of bunnies, embraced the wallpaper, but also covered the walls and ceilings with posters and pictures cut out of magazines. I remember keeping my room clean when I finally got my own room: previously it had usually been a mess with things shoved under the bed. I liked my room because it was my place with my things, a place for self-expression.

I had a few dorm rooms in college, but nothing that memorable. A semester in Slovakia brought another room, but I never stayed there because it was damp and cold, and I prefered to study in the main kitchen with a table and others. And near the tea. Junior and senior year my rooms were again shared with many people, and I only recall the feeling of the room - carpeted and dusty, usually dark because someone else was sleeping and the windows were the size of a fingernail.

When I moved to Slovakia I had a whole apartment to myself, and that place holds some of my fondest memories. I remember it light and airy. Since I had so much space to myself and relatively little things with me overseas, it was usually neat and pleasant. The bedroom got morning light coming across the fields, and the kitchen got the warm afternoon sun. Taking after a cat, I require sunbeams for good living, and my memories are in a shade of light.

I've had three rooms since coming to Atlanta. Four if you count my car for 6 weeks. The first room was small and I was there for only a short amount of time. I had actually, um, no furnature. The second room became populated with furnature...a bed, a desk at least. It became my own when I painted it a lovely shade of green. Slovak About a Boy (Ako Na Vec) and Amelie posters graced the wall - aquired with Alanna at the Trnava movie theater. The sun came in the afternoon, and at about 4 o'clock the best thing was waking up from a nap and drinking tea in the warm light. I had lovely red-orange translucent curtains that made even harsh winter light radiant. Eventually I aquired a dresser and a bike to fill my room too.


After the 6 week jaunt in a perfectly-packed car, I returned to Atlanta and a new room, which I had already painted a lovely shade of green. I downsized my bed by swapping with someone, and packed my collection of furiture into the small back bedroom. But it is green, and decorated with lovely spreads and scarves, so I love it. And in the morning the light shines in the back windows and on Saturday morning when the light shines over the shudders and hits my eyes, I know I have slept too late (as in today).


Do you remember that Emily Dickinson poem? I'm sure I posted about it last winter, because I always think of it this time of year. "There's a certain slant of light,/On winter afternoons,/That oppresses, like the weight/Of cathedral tunes."


Here it is:

There's a certain slant of light,
On winter afternoons,
That oppresses, like the weight
Of cathedral tunes.

Heavenly hurt it gives us;
We can find no scar,
But internal difference
Where the meanings are.

None may teach it anything,
'Tis the seal, despair,-
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the air.

When it comes, the landscape listens,
Shadows hold their breath;
When it goes, 't is like the distance
On the look of death.

fixed

The pictures are back! I had to reload them from the computer. More coming soon...