shame on the disciplined people

Grad school. I've written about it before. I need to say a few things, some good, some bad.

Today, we went to the Dept. of Juvenile Justice, ie the Detention Center. I had a one-on-one interview with a juvie about reading, as did all of my fellow EDRD 600 classmates. As soon as the group of young men came into the room, I saw the kid I wanted to talk to. Tiny kid. Adorable. Name is Archie. I made a beeline for lil' Archie as soon as we could choose our partners, and we had an awesome talk. I asked him a lot of questions, but thanks to my awesome journalism classes in undergrad and my many interviews as a writer for the Collegian, it was a great talk--more of a conversation than an interview. He was a really smart kid and I'm looking forward to meeting with him again next week.

Now for the bad part...future teachers of America--grad students--do you really not know what it means to look professional? Do you really think that having your chest hanging out (ladies) is going to be a good idea when you're in front of a roomful of 15-year-old boys? Do you know what a button-down is? and heels? Do you think baggy t-shirts and jeans are what the prof has in mind when she says to dress professionally? I mean COME ON. If you want to get a job, you do not interview someone like this:



Granted, in this case, a full-on suit would probably be a little intimidating for the teenager that you're interviewing, but if you don't respect yourself enough to look nice, then why should they? I'm just saying!

I'm not going to rant. But listen...every single thing we have learned in these education classes applies to high-risk, resistant, urban kids. That's fine. It's important stuff, and I know I'll have plenty of these kids. However, I have NO idea how to teach the AP kids. The ones who are motivated and disciplined and who need a challenge.

Because I guarantee you, the sort of junk I'm being told to teach is not gonna fly in an middle-class AP group of kids. And according to professor X, these types of kids pretty much don't exist. Well, guess what--I was one of those kids, and there are plenty of them out there.


Not everyone in this grad program is going to get a job at a high-risk, urban area, and not every single kid hates reading and teachers and school, and not every teacher is going to want to encourage her kids to read stuff like this:

I want to be prepared for the disciplined, driven kids when I get them. I am positive that when I ask profeesor X if any of our ed classes for next year will focus on AP curriculum, I will get a not-so-veiled response about how I am closed-minded and even racist. Upper-middle-class white girls! Such snobs! So closed-minded! They should be punished for their desire to have the kids do something other than personal responses and read books other than trashy YA novels! Shame!

It may seem like I am exaggerating, but honestly, I am not. In fact, ask Shannon, to whom X referred, in so many words, as a priveleged snob, to her face, in front of a whole class. For the entire time I have been in ed classes here, I have felt like I should be feeling guilty for the type of education I had. I am told every day that the way my English teachers taught me when I was growing up was terrible. Obviously, that is why I am so stupid now, right?

It also seems that with a few exceptions, the people in my classes have these humongous chips on their shoulders...they hated their teachers, they hated the way they were taught, they hated actually having to work hard in high school, basically. I'm sure some of them had bad experiences because let's face it, we've all had some terrible teachers. But....did it really ruin your life? Really?

I try not to let my feelings show during class, but I'll admit, my jaw has dropped at some of the things that are said/worn by the future teachers of America, and I have exchanged many appalled glances with Shannon at some of the things that X says. Because let's face it, I'm a well-educated, professional, middle-class white chick and I am bad.

:)

The End.

am i in k5 or in grad school?

Tomorrow I start a Maymester class, which is an intense three week course that is required for my graduate program. It is about teaching reading to adolescents. This first assignment for this class is as follows:

"I would like to begin this course by asking you to bring along to our first class some artifacts to share. Creating and sharing these will help us to reflect on our personal literacy and begin to know each other.
1. a photo that shows the people, pets, places you will miss the most while you are with us--your significant beings.
2. a literacy shoebox or bag filled with artifacts which show who you are as a reader, writer and learner.
a.) two significant items from your present literate life--who you are now as a reader and writer. What do you read, write, and why?
b.) 2 significant items from your past as a reader and writer that connect to who you are now and how you feel about literacy.
c.) a significant something you have read this year
d) a piece of writing you love--it could be yours or something you read (a letter, an article, something you especially value)
In addition to this literacy shoebox or bag, I ask that you bring with you three definitions for “reading.” "

THIS ASSIGNMENT IS FOR A GRADUATE CLASS.
I don't have a whole lot to say, I think the assignment says it all. Below is a picture of my shoebox, filled with sarcastic choices for my literary life. WB is not impressed either.

intervention. or, stepping in poop in my own house

Cats are awesome. Willowberry (or Wilbur, as I sometimes call her, because she is a piggy) is super awesome. She is cute and very photogenic, and someday I'm sure she'll be the star of Lolcats. I mean, just look at these pictures at the bottom of the page!

If you ever happen to meet WB, however, you may notice that the hair around her back legs and the base of her tail is strangely butchered. You will have noticed correctly. I have many times performed emergency haircuts on the little beast, for reasons which I will detail here.

WB sometimes has bowel issues. About once a month I'll hear strange noises and realize that WB is...er...stuck. She has extraordinarily soft, long hair, and this sometimes gets in the way when she's doing her bidness. No need to be too graphic, but sometimes those little logs get caught in the fur, and WB goes frantic trying to get if off....all. over. my. hardwood. floor. (Well, I guess carpet would be worse.)

Thankfully, this has happened when I've been at home to intervene except for one time...when I came home from the lib at midnight, exhausted, ready for bed, and found IT all over my floor.....but as I said, most of the time I am there to snatch the offending kitty up and throw her into the bathroom.

Let me tell you, trying to trim stuff out of the fur of a very angry 11-pound feline while you hold her down on your lap is dangerous stuff. For me because I risk getting IT all over me, and because she bites reeeeeeallly hard; and for her, because the more she struggles, the more likely it is that my scissors are gonna slip and snip something that shouldn't be snipped.

This morning we had an incident--ironically right before I went to get my hair cut. (By a professional, and not because there was anything stuck in it, fyi.)

I thought I cleaned it all up. I thought wrong. Because when I got home after a long day at school and traffic and spending money at Wally world, I got home and went into the bathroom...and squish. Apparently I missed something in my morning cleanup. 'Nuff said.

P.S. Lest you think my house is a den of germs and vileness, let me assure you that my floor is sparklingly disinfected and clean. Come to think of it, I probably wouldn't scrub the floor on a regular basis if it weren't for WB...so I guess I should be thankful. Or not.

Watching Tv.

See that halo? It's not real.

Why are you reading this, mommy, and not paying attention to me?

One little spark....

The way she rides in da car

Before she got fat

why i'm going to buy myself a present

Today I ran a 10k trail race at Harbison State Park. It was in fact slightly more than 10k--it was 6.4 miles. The fact that I did not fall flat on my face is indeed an accomplishment. I was honestly preparing myself for at least one wipeout, because that trail has plenty of roots and rocks. Within the first mile I did step on a rock and twisted my ankle a bit, but no serious damage and I forged ahead. I didn't fall down or break anything! It probably would make for a much more interesting blog if I had crashed and burned, but such is life.

(The fastest woman overall actually did wipe out..she had mud all over her front at the end and yet she somehow still comes in with like a 40-minute race???? Whatever.)

AND who would've guessed--I won a prize. Well, everyone won a prize, pretty much. I got 2nd place in my age group, but considering there were only about five chicks in my age group that ain't saying much. Still, considering I was going to be happy just to finish the race period I did pretty darn good. Also, my prize is a pair of pretty sweet socks.



AND there were tons of free Fiber One bars at the end which of course made my day.


YUM

A quick note here to guys who wear running shorts with 3-inch inseams: you are disgusting. Seriously. After the race I was sitting on the grass with everyone else and this one guy in particular with giraffe legs was walking around...I could not even look up because I was too frightened by what I might see. Seriously, guys, there is nothing wrong with wearing basketball shorts when running. Nothing at all. This is, as they say a complete fail:



Anyway. The fact is, I have always been a solo runner, and though relatively consistent, I haven't been super motivated. I've done only two races, and both of them 5ks, but lately I've been pushed to doing about 6 miles at a stretch---I FINALLY joined a running group and it is the best thing ever. I run with people who push me and stretch me, and when everyone else talks about the various quadruple marathons and 60-milers they are doing this month it kinda inspires you to get your game on. So, when my running friend MK suggested I sign up for this race, I decided to get off my butt and go for it. And that is why I am going to buy myself a present.

A new kitteh, perhaps?

where shopping is a pleasure. also a note on kittehs

Columbia doesn't offer much in the way of a good, clean grocery store. Let's see...we have Food Lion, which I have already mentioned. No further comments are necessary. Then there is Bi-Lo...which is my store of choice when I'm in Greenville. However, here in Columbia the Bi-Los seem to be in the sketchiest parts of town. I have to say that WalMart is the place to go to lower the bill a bit, but I'm always in a horrid mood by the time I drag my overloaded cart through the one line that is usually open.

BUT there is a place that absolutely makes me happy. It sparkles. It's green. It's an absolute joy to visit. It is, in fact, a pleasure to shop there.
Publix just makes me happy! I don't even make a list when I go there because I enjoy browsing the aisles and seeing what's available and what's on sale. Is that weird? Perhaps. It's not as weird as certain people who keep coupon clipping notebooks (hehe) but you know what? It's clean. It's in a cool renovated old mill building. Sometimes it has BOGO sales on EXACTLY the product I am craving. Amazing!

The staff are super awesome too. Of course, today the bagger boy seemed to be having a li'l trouble getting the bagging right (should we really put the milk jug in a bag with the bananas? I'm just saying.) But let's give him a break--he was probably overwhelmed with my appearance: the In'n'Out t-shirt, sweaty pontyail, and delicious aroma of Eau De 6-Mile-Run knocks 'em dead.

But seriously, I love Publix.

On a different note: today I went to a bad, bad place. It's called Pets Inc. and I went with Shan, who is widely-known to be obsessed with dogs. It has been lately commented that I am obsessed with kittehs, which of course I am. Animal places are very bad for me, because I tend to want to take things home with me. Like kittehs. (Hmmm...more on that later.) I was unprepared, however, for the Den of Kittehs present at Pets Inc. At the Greenville Humane Society there is usually a good number of cats, but this place had this room where there were a bajillion cats all loose. Everywhere I looked there was another cat. there were multi-layered cat beds with a cat stuffed in every hole. Every nook and cranny was filled with cat. It was like a Hitchcock film, and I was Tippi Hedren.

Silver lining: I was so overwhelmed that I didn't even feel compelled to bring one home! Also, I was busy convincing Shan to LEAVE THE RATDOG IN ITS KENNEL, SHAN. No, Shannon, seriously, PUT the drop-kick pup BACK in the CAGE.......

This week in Shakespeare we had a substitute professor while our dear old Dr. R has been away (he's so, d'you know, funny, d'you know, with his little manners of speech, don't you know?)

Anyway, Dr. G, who happens to be my advisor, was the guest prof. He is awesome too. He's like a squirrel--a small, balding squirrel with earrings! Sometimes I want to pat him on the head and feed him peanuts.


However, despite his very squirrelly appearance, Dr. G is extremely smart. Much too smart for our class, actually. Even though everyone in the class is getting either a Masters or a Doctorate, we all just sit there staring like zombies. As we went over MacBeth today, I started to feel slightly bored, so I began to doodle in my notebook. There are more doodles and weird designs in my notebooks than there are notes (also my half of the many conversations between my fellow student Shannon about the obnoxious behavior of our other classmates. We two, however, are never obnoxious) So today, I drew a little doodle, and it looked like this:

I had nothing in mind when I was doodling, but when Shannon looked over and asked what it was, I wrote the first thing that came to my mind. To help you understand, Dr. G had been chatting away about the various mishaps and evil deeds of, and I quote, "MacBethLand." Sort of like Wonderland, perhaps? Like there's an entrance somewhere in this world that will drop us right in the middle of the lovely family drama of Lady M and MacBeth himself. Like we can do what the little girl did in Pan's Labyrinth, and draw a door, and there you go. Off to MacBethLand.

So..........It's a PORTAL! Duh!

I created the portal to MacBethLand. Which, of course, would be an interesting Land to enter since we never did find out what happened to Malcom and Donalbain, or Fleance, or the sneaky snarky wierd sisters.
MacBeth II, anyone?

P.S. The little note beside the portal that says "skinny-skin"--another cute little phrase of Dr. G's, who was discussing Banquo's skin of silver and blood of gold. He couldn't think of any other way to describe "normal" skin. Ah well.

I've had some questions about the title of my blog. The answer is simple:

Car·i·o·ca, n.
A native or inhabitant of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

I am not, of course, a native of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, but I like to think that I am a sort of semi-carioca because I just love the place so much. Also, I can speak a sort of mangled Portu-Spanish version of the language, and that always helps. Plus, check out the view from my the apartment I lived in:



Speaking of Rio, the brilliant idea flashed across minha mente that I should dig up all of the emails from my time there and reread them, picking out the most informative and didactic of the emails and sharing them here on my blog. Kidding, of course--I will only share the most hilarious ones, of which there are, in fact, many.

Also, I made real chicken breast from PUBLIX (more on that later) and combined with the couscous/broccoli/tomato salad leftovers from last night it was deeelishus.