The Musicians

In middle school, I signed up for band. I guess it must have been in sixth grade. I was inspired by the intro to The Simpsons when Lisa improvises a solo and is promptly asked to leave the room. I wanted more than anything to play the saxophone. I've always had an affinity for smart girls who do things out of the ordinary and have always tried to be such a girl. But thanks to the popularity of The Simpsons, I was assigned the trumpet.

Three Tales

I've spent the last 24 hours grading essays. Each time I read a particulary bad one, I have been inspired to write a better version with my own experiences. I don't know if I will use them in class. But I thought I would share here, for you Jennifer.

Tracie Tales

I fell off the wagon last week. Funny thing is, I already had this ready to go, but I just didn't get a chance to upload since I wasn't really around a computer. I will owe a second post this week. 

The prompt was:

Find a person or moment in your previous writing and expand it.

If you were a fan Gabriel Iglesias from the beginning, you might know the name Felipe Esparza. He’s one of the guys with Iglesias in that story he tells about getting pulled over on their way to Vegas during the Hot and Fluffy Comedy Central special. Yeah, I’m a bit of a fan.

Anyway, Felipe Esparza is the spitting image of Tracie. Well, minus the facial hair. She also had this slur due to some dental issues caused by a car accident she was in as a kid. She dressed like a straight up Chola because well, she was one. She also wasn’t very nice.

Ransom Gone Wrong

This week’s prompt:

Tell a story that begins with a ransom note.

My response after the jump.

To Eight-Year-Old Georgina...

Dear Eight-Year-Old Georgina,

Finding this note at the bottom of your yellow basket that you bought from Mrs. Yeager at the start of the school year seemed like an odd thing to you. At first, you looked around before opening it, hoping it was a note from your best friend Lydia or that kid you have a crush on in class. When you realized it was from your future self, you were weirded out a bit, but you’ve always had the ability to believe in things that are not concrete. You even played with the idea that you wrote it for fun and forgot about it, but the handwriting and vocabulary should let you know that this is legit.

Bandwagon Plan

So, here's my plan:

Write as often as possible, but at least once a week.
Use my teaching prompts as blog prompts.

As a bonus, I'd love for anyone still reading this to play along. If you have a blog and would like, write to the prompt and link your blog post in the comments.

My first prompt is:

Imagine yourself at the age of eight. What would you tell yourself?

Explained Absence

Due to a sad circumstance, I saw many people from the past today. One of the things that came up was this blog. "Are you still blogging? I haven't seen anything lately?"

"Yeah. Have you been writing?"

Corridos

My new school is different. It’s on the opposite side of this “city.”


The students, although relatively the same age, are different. Their recall is much better thanks to different sleep habits and better nutrition at home. The air of entitlement bugs me though. My ethics bother some of them thinking that a phone call from home will make me back down, but I double cross every “t” and double dot every “I”.

El Jabon

Growing up, my mom always bought the cheapest dish soap available. Back in those days, the cheap stuff was good. It wasn't watered down and it washed the dishes pretty good.

When I got my own place, I would go for smell. Then, I got all into "green" products. Recently though, I received an Influenster box with three bottles of Palmolive Fresh Infusions. Three bottles is way too much since between Daniel and I, we don't really have that many dishes to wash.

Anyway, I took a bottle to my sister's during Thanksgiving break and we were all in love with the smell. Plus, it foamed up and washed the dishes pretty well. It's readily available at my usual Target and Wal-Mart.

Gone

I finally did it. I left the place I began my teaching career. I always heard that it would be a sad and difficult even, but it turns out, it wasn’t.


I’m not saying I didn’t contemplate the decision for a long, long time. It’s just that once I decided I was going to leave, I got a lot of support from a few good people, and it just made it all easier. I almost faltered when we were discussing plans for the upcoming year—getting hopeful, thinking of the possibilities. But then, those few good people reminded me it was time for me to go and grow.

It was quite daunting, too. The first task was re-creating a resume which took me a few weeks until my friend held me hostage at Starbucks awaiting a completed copy. Then, there was the intense application process which I started one Friday afternoon after a long and intense week. Then, it was talking to my former principal who seemed to always have someone in her office when I got up the nerve. Then, there was the task of packing up the classroom I’d made my home for the last few years, but a student got me started on this task one afternoon by insisting she stay afterschool to help. Then, there was the interview process which seemed totally derailed by my unprecedented extended stay in El Paso earlier this summer, but somehow it all worked out. And, I was offered a position without ever having a face-to-face interview.

I know this is sort of cheesy, but this entire process has reaffirmed my faith. Since last summer, I prayed. I asked for things to work out for the best, and if I was meant to leave, let things work out in my favor. So perhaps, this is why it wasn’t so sad or difficult.

I’m excited about my new school. The student population is more diverse, and they will be taking on the 1:1 computer initiative which means, I will have a computer but the students won’t until the following year. It’ll be cool starting this whole process over again because I can try things differently, and I can assist with the roll out by sharing what worked and what didn’t. I’ll have new colleagues. But best of all, I am teaching English which for us is Writing. I will miss exploring literature, but I know that the “book whisperer” in me will never leave. I will always have book suggestions for students.

I’m glad to have gone through this process because had I not; I would continue to take compliments at face value. I am a good teacher, and I have done a lot in my short time in education, and I have a lot to offer students.
I am, for the first time in a while, super excited about the upcoming year.

It's funny how as we grow older, waking up early becomes an everyday thing. As much as I love to sleep, I know that if I don't wake up early on the weekends the work week is going to be utter hell.

I went outside this morning and I saw some intersting things:

Absence

In the time that I've been gone, I haven't done too many exciting things.

The Power of Literature

With the end of the Potter series looming at the end of the week, and the Twilight series final movie installments just around the turn of the calendar, some people are saying good-bye to their childhood literature comforts.


It’s moments like this that I like to step back and people watch. And I can’t help get emotional. Not because I’m sad that it’s the end of the series, but because of the immense power literature holds over people.

As a lover of words and stories, I have always found comfort in stories, poetry, and my own words. For so long, I felt like I was the only one who felt this need to live between the pages of Superfudge, wishing Ivon Villa from Desert Blood:The Juarez Murders really existed so I could call her up and chat, wondering what people said about the Buendias in Macondo, creating my own world in which I was whoever I wanted to be at the moments. But as I’ve taken my wonky path through life, I’ve found other people like me.

It’s incredible how the simple act of opening a book can change a person forever. And that, is not only why I love reading and writing, but also why I don’t ever want to stop teaching.

I Think...

Chasing Brooklyn

I just finished reading Chasing Brooklyn by Lisa Schroeder, and I’m emotionally spent. It was such an incredibly sad story.  One of the most touching poems is the following:

#289

Dear Lucca,

I miss you.

I miss your beautiful blue eyes and the love I saw in

them for me.

I miss your hand that held mine.

I miss your arms around me.

I miss your lips on mine

I miss your laughter.

I miss the way you called me Brooker the Looker

I miss your voice and the sweet everythings you

whispered in my ear.

I miss the drawings you showed me before anyone else.

I miss our midnight conversations for no other reason

than to say, “I love you.”

I miss how I felt safe when I was with you.

I miss you, Lucca.

For my whole life, I will miss you.

Love always,

Brooklyn

Although the resolution seems to come too easily, this book is so powerful. It tells a tale of lost love, and yet, it offers so much hope.

Brooklyn and Nico are complex characters depicted through the simplistic language of Lisa Schroeder. It was hard to put this book down. I'm so glad one of my students recommended it for me.

A Long Awaited Break

It seems like last week could not end fast enough. Every day, I would wake up thinking it was the next day.

An Allegory

There are many similes and metaphors teachers can use to describe what it’s like to be a teacher these days, running on a treadmill, a mountain being capped by snow, etc.

This morning, I woke with that sentence on my mind, and had to add but to it. Because those comparisons are old and trite in my mind, I’d much prefer to use an allegory at this moment…

No Gimmicks Required

This school year, I ventured onto a new endeavor with my students—get them to read and write. This transformation has been in the making for quite some time, I just didn’t know how to let go. Really, all it takes is what I like to call grassroots teaching.

NJWP-Week One

Today marks the end of week one of the New Jersey Writing Institute. We have two left, and I already feel a pang of sadness that it will be over soon.

Some people would ask why. They would claim that I’m giving up a lot of my summer. Time to sit by a pool or on the beach. Movie time I won’t get back. Sunny afternoons clacking away at Barnes and Noble keeping a slightly sweetened black iced tea and outrageous oatmeal cookie close by.

The truth, it’s all worth it. In just this first week, I have learned so much, been validated in regard to my teaching and writing, and inspired on so many levels.

I want to shrink Mona and Janice to tuck them away in my pen/pencil pouch so that I can pull them out in the middle. The period of time “that defines what kind of teachers we really are.”

Sure, I have my notes to go back to and the textbook is mine, but it just isn’t the same. It’s the comradery and voice of reason from the people who teach the process that makes this Institute what it is.

I wish I could require all of our teachers to attend. I know that this would change some of their mentality and in turn, provide our kids with the education they deserve. 

Los Mojaditos: A Portrait

I love this photograph because it is probably the only one with all of my siblings. On the left in the white undershirt and jeans is my brother Filly. Next to him in the white jeans is Silvia, the oldest of our sisters. Next to her is Richy, the oldest of our brothers. On the bottom from left to right are Jorge, me, and Gabi.

I can’t remember if this photograph was taken at our house on Rita street or the previous house. All I know is that we’d been in the country a couple of years and we were all still illegal.

Thinking back at how things were, I wonder how we did it. How did my mom do it to feed all of us, clothe us, and keep a roof over our head. I didn’t know how hard it was for my oldest sister who had been forced to move when she had already started her own life in Juarez. I didn’t know how bad school was for Gabi and Jorge.

There are a few memories in there of fights between my parents and the fear of perhaps my mom not coming home one day because she’s been deported. However, for the most part, I was a really happy kid. I had some books, a record player, a Tatiana LP recording of Osito Panda, a Cri-Cri LP, and playing outside with our neighbors or my siblings was the best thing ever, especially if we took a trip to the park.