Vacation

I'm going to Portland, Oregon tonight. Today's the last day of the first quarter. Grades are in. Assessments are done. Short story rough drafts and peer reviews are finished, for the most part. Today is school picture day and the Homecoming Parade.

I don't know whether or not I'll post at all on my trip, but I'll be back for second quarter in two weeks!

Educational Philosophies

I'm reading Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee by Dee Brown, and as I read, I am struck by how blindly the system of attack continues, be it by the government and big business attacking the environmental safety of reservation land or via a viscious welfare cycle or through ineffective educational practices.

Here we have bars on windows and doors and a large gate around the school. Forget opening the windows for fresh air on a warm day or when the kids just came from gym class. And in a culture where education is, more often than not, not viewed as being important, we hold these kids accountable to state standards, forcing them to take standardized tests only to tell them, time and again, that they've failed. How many times do kids need to fail in order to give up, especially when they know that, pass or fail, they're going to get their check from the government in due time?

It seems that, especially here, where education seems meaningless; where kids don't need to go to school to get paid; educators need to strive to make school a place of successful, meaningful growth. Not a place with bars on windows and failure grades stamped on 70% of the state tests. Our number one goal should be to keep these kids in school! Encourage them. Make them feel successful while pushing them to do even better. Create a love for education rather than a fear and loathing of it.

But how? I've got to go teach now, but questions and comments and suggestions are appreciated.

Petrified Forest National Park

Yesterday I biked and hiked around the northern half of the Petrified Forest National Park. Not my photo, this looks quite like what I saw yesterday at sunset. Always beautiful, the badlands of the Painted Desert become vividly red as the sun is setting.

With a friend, we rode down to the Pueblo Ruins to check out the petroglyphs and then back up to the visitor's center/park entrance. On the way to the ruins, we hiked down into the badlands, wandering about and looking at (and touching) petrified wood up close, climbing a bit on badland structures, and spotting lizards and various stones, including tiny pieces of petrified wood and what looked like rose quartz that I so wanted to pocket but didn't. It was an amazing trip, through grassy desert with wild flowers and past the colorful badlands.

Back to school today, with break only 4 days away. My students are writing short stories right now, and so far, they seem to be doing much better than they did on their myths. I'm not sure if that's because myths are more difficult because they are more specific; because this is their second writing assignment; because I insisted on collecting and grading their pre-writing (and it's the last week of the first marking period); or because journaling and my comments on their journals has boosted their confidence and even provided a source of ideas for some more reluctant writers (I have one kid who never even turned in a myth who is turning a journal entry on Roswell, NM into a first-person point-of-view short story): I'm thinking it's a combination of all of these reasons. They're working fairly well on their rough drafts, and I'm hoping to try out peer-review on Thursday.

My back yard

This pic was taken from my apartment window during monsoon season. See how green the desert is. Yucca trees and juniper trees are prominent. It also looks as though a storm is brewing in the mountains behind the horses. The mustangs often roam at will here.

Kathe near Sunrise Lake

This picture was taken in August 2006.

Sunrise in the Desert

This picture was taken in July 2006, about an hour north-east of Phoenix.

Indian Day

Here's a picture taken from the top of Sawtooth after climbing it in August. I live down there, a bit to the left (or north-east). I'm finally getting around to posting pictures on Flickr and here on my blog. I recommend joining Flickr; it's a great site and you can view my photos at www.flickr.com/photos/runjessicarun/.

Yesterday was Indian day and a half day. We had a pageant/talent show, and the contestants wore camp dresses and other traditional clothing. One kid did a crown dance, and he was really impressive. Crown Dancers from Cibeque also danced for the kids. As far as I understand, Crown Dancers wear the black hoods over their faces, because no one is supposed to really know who the crown dancer is. He is possessed by another spirit, almost becomes another person. While the Crown Dance used to be part of the coming-of-age ceremony for young men, they now most commonly dance at the Sunrise Dance, which is still commonly held as a coming-of-age ceremony for girls. It's my understanding that Christion missionaries fought to outlaw the Crown Dance due to its warrior-like nature, but I'm having trouble finding details about it on the Internet. If anyone has/finds any good sources, please let me know. Here's a narrative of its origin.

Big plans for the weekend include finishing grading and biking the Painted Desert-Petrified Forest Scenic Drive.

Flagpole

This weekend, I chilled in Flagsaff, AZ. A small city! A place of coffee shops, hip bars, book stores, outdoorsy stores, art galleries, diners, farmers' markets, co-ops, and of course, some of the most amazing hiking/biking/camping/climbing in the country at its doorstep. This town is perfect for left-leaning hip-kids with a penchant for being out in the wilderness.

While preparing and eating some delicious food at a pot-luck dinner with some new acquaintances, I listened to conversations about the best trails in the Grand Canyon, the best places to camp, mountain biking adventures, and why I should start climbing. The group I'd stumbled upon consisted of a guide on the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon, an ornothologist and competitive mountain biker, several post-grad students and climbers, and an archeologist preparing to go on a dig in Niger, Africa.

I also loved drinking coffee at Macy's, an artsy coffeeshop with a comfortable vibe; eating bagels from Biff's (NY style and still warm on Saturday morning); sipping wheat beer at Flagstaff Brewing Company; and smelling the aroma of and diving into fairly priced used books at Bookmans.

I think I may need to venture there a few times a year to get a dose of city life (small, clean city) now and again.

Rough week...

...for the Rough Riders here at Canyon Day.

We had a lock-down yesterday afternoon. A rumor was circulating that a man suspected of the brutal June killing of a 19-year-old girl was going to show up at school to shoot some students who had been interrogated by the FBI.

We had to walk all of our kids out to their buses, and of course, not all of the buses were present yet. So we were all sitting ducks while waiting for the bus to show up. When someone was spotted by a bus driver out in the field, we rushed the kids onto any bus possible.

The good news is that he is now in custody in Flagstaff.

In more personal bad news, my cat's been missing from his new home for five nights. Each day that passes, I grow less able to hope. Elijah! Come home!

Yes, I coach cheerleading

Another week is coming to a close. My giant mountain of grading is being chiselled down gradually to a mere bump; my gradebook has been recreated in orderly and pretty fashion; and I have managed to get through our first football game with my cheerleaders. Ahhh.

My secret? Late nights at school. Hours put in at home (while sort of kind of listening to "Sex in the City" episodes while I grade. Either that or Broken Social Scene) at the table, grading, grading, grading, and sipping cold coffee. And overall, trying, trying to be more efficient. It's a strain for me, but I'm getting there.

And for you sceptics, I am glad to be cheerleading. There are certain girls in both my class and on my squad that I wouldn't know or appreciate (and perhaps wouldn't even like) if I didn't get to see them laugh, joke, tease, think, brainstorm, dance, play, complain, cartwheel, and love like I get to see them do at practice and today at the game.

Ms. L's tired. No rest for the wicked, though. This weekend I get to go to Flagstaff to take AZ state teaching certification tests. I'm hoping to soak in the city life while there; maybe find a bookstore (oh!) or a coffeeshop (my!) or maybe even some place with live music that is NOT country or a Greenday cover band (ooh!).

Scorpions, spiders, and stink bugs

Last night, I killed my second scorpion. This guy was smaller and therefore more dangerous and yet less psychologically nerve-racking than the first. I boldly killed him with a pan in my bare feet. I was calm and cool, if not a little grossed out by the oozing produced by the smashed scorpion. My mother asked me if I feel bad about killing these members of the Arachnida class, and I suppose that I should. But in movies, these creatures are depicted as deadly, are they not? Maybe I can figure out a safe way to trap and release them, so that I can avoid the deadly squish and the dreaded sting (which I've been told is like a bad bee sting unless alergic). Check this out:

Scorpions are nocturnal. They often ambush their prey, lying in wait as they sense its approach. They consume all types of insects, spiders, centipedes, and other scorpions. Larger scorpions may feed on vertebrates, such as smaller lizards, snakes, and mice if they are able to subdue them. They capture their prey with their pedipalps, paralyzing them with their venom as well if necessary. The immobilized prey is then subjected to an acid spray that dissolves the tissues, allowing the scorpion to suck up the remains.

Last night while hiking, I saw a hummingbird in some wild trumpet flowers. I wish I'd had my camera (my friend had it at the moment), although I did take a lovely picture of stink bugs devouring a dead bull snake.

From the Classroom

I think that one of the hardest parts about being a new teacher is, well, the newness of it all. While I consider myself a pragmatist, I still hope to reach the majority of my students; I want to do my job and to do it well. But I can't help but feel like a complete fraud at times. I always feel like I'm behind in grading, planning, organizing, etc. My expectations deflate as I find myself unable to keep ahead, plan better lessons, stay on top of the standards, and please every student at the same time. It's not just that there's so much to do as a teacher; it's also that there are so many personal goals to meet. I want my students to be active, engaged readers; I want them to understand and use the writing process; I want them to be critical thinkers; I want them to be a part of the community; I want them to love to learn. So many elements go into each and every one of these goals, and I feel flooded.

So I'm trying to gain some perspective. If I mastered teaching this year, I'd be bored in five. So I need to use my pragmatism and set realistic goals for myself and my students. While each goal will touch upon the large umbrella goals listed above, I need to specify and narrow down.

For example, if I can introduce the writing process and get students in the habit of re-reading their work before handing it in, I've made a difference. If I can get them to publish some of their writing on a class blog or website, I've made a difference. If I can get them to make predictions and inferences while they read, I've made a difference. If I can get them to find one or two books that they love, I've made a difference. If I can get them to write a letter (persuasive text) to a member of their community or a person in a position of power regarding an issue that concerns them, I've made a difference. Next year, I can broaden my field of mastery. Right now, I'm thinking that I need to focus on the small to affect the big. Otherwise, I'm going to keep going with unfocused unit plans, disconnected lessons, and a sense of failure.

Trout Fishing in America

I did everything that I said that I was going to do this weekend, except for maybe the "getting as much work done as possible" part. I did, however, manage to do about four large loads of laundry yesterday! Whoo hoo!

On Thursday, I went to the Tribal Fair and wandered around. It reminded me of the T-burg fair that I went to last year, complete with greasy food, Ring of Fire, the Zipper, the Super Shot, and the "Simulated Adventure Ride." Some major differences: My two friends and I were the only ones I saw who were white; instead of a Demolition Derby there was a rodeo; and there were stands bordering the fair that sold Apache food: Acorn stew, Fry Bread, Apache Burgers, etc.

I had my first Apache Burger. Apache fry bread is like fried pizza crust: it's relatively flat and greasy. For an Apache burger, you take two hamburgers and whatever other toppings (cheese, lettuce, tomato, ketchup, green chilis) and taco it into a serving of fry bread. Mmm, greasy deliciousness. While enjoying that, I went and watched the junior rodeo, cheering for tiny little Apache kids on huge, beautiful horses or watching them get a ribbon from a bull calf after it had been roped and racing it back to the starting line.

I spent the rest of the weekend camping at Hawley Lake (photo above is not mine, but that's Mt. Baldy in the background, the highest peak in the White Mountain range). I saw elk; went trout fishing (trolling) for the first time (with some success!); ate camp beans; enjoyed the rain and stars and moonlight; told stories by the campfire; read; hiked; and went searching for animals (elk, turkeys, deer, osprey, sand hill crane). Another lovely weekend here in the White Mountains.