Today a friend S. and I were on our way back from a professor's house where we had a nice dinner and company. I asked her what her plans were for the summer and next fall, because even though she'll be walking at commencement she has to stay an extra semester to finish her degree requirements. She said she is trying to find a job at home but it's difficult because she's overly qualified; after next fall semester is over she'll most likely be moving to new york state to find a teaching job in a high needs district as per her fellowship requirements. We got into a conversation about our futures and what our college as set us up for. I asked her if she regretted coming to this school and she said yes and no... the opportunities and departments weren't what she expected but there were other little things that made it somewhat worth it. I asked her then if she had the choice again would she come here or go to another school, and she said she wouldn't come here again. It was clear throughout this car ride home that she is pessimistic about the future and feels like our college hasn't done the best job in terms of career preparations or coursework. She is burnt out, jaded, and tired.

I'm happy I'm not like that.

This school has been a blessing for me in many ways. I often think about what it would have been like if I had accepted one of the other schools on their offers. Yes, the departments at other schools are much better than what is currently here. However, if I had not been here, I would not have gotten involved with the Promise Neighborhood. To be frank this project is a game-changer for me. It has changed my outlook on my career and the future and where I could find myself in the coming years. I think about all the things I have been lucky to be a part of because of the unique circumstances of event offerings, or conferences, or connections with courses. It is truly amazing. My friends here are going off to do great things all around the country - Yale, D.C., California, you name it.

But we all started here.

Some say college years are some of the best years of your life. While I beg to differ, I really can't say because I have no idea what's to come. Things are wide open and the possibilities are endless. Compared to some people (like my friend above) I'm not stuck yet.

I found out this past week that I was accepted to be one of the Americorps VISTA workers for the coming year with the Promise Neighborhood. Can I just say how exciting this is? Yes, I won't be teaching music per se. But I'll be working with a school, the school that I've devoted countless time, energy, and emotion to over the past two years. The stress of finding a job is suddenly absent. Finally, I have a chance to work for this project without also having to juggle school full-time. I have no idea what the next year might look like - hell, I don't even know when I'm going to start work (it's some time in June). But to have that first step on the road sorta figured out makes me eternally grateful. Because of that, I can wake up every day looking forward to the possibilities, not at the dead ends.

Another thing that made me think today happened at the dinner, before that car ride. There were some new friends around the table and so each of us talked a little about our involvement with Promise or at college. One thing that I noticed is that with the underclassmen, they all talked about the things they have personally done or contributed. Hmmm. The sad thing is I think that some of these people getting involved with the project are in it for their own personal gain. That is, they make sure to let everyone know the work that they themselves have put in.

Let me clue you in.

It's not about you.
It's about the kids. It's about making a difference in this community. It's about the belief that we have for each student at Lincoln that they will go to college and be able to escape some truly horrifying situations. It's about changing the culture of drugs and dropouts and convicts into a culture of learners who care, who contribute, who thrive rather than merely survive. Yeah, recognition every once in a while is nice - it's the fuel that keeps the light burning when the wick gets low. But this is not about one person's work. It's not even about OUR work. It's about the work of those students, that community. We are the wheels that help get the train rolling - we're not the engine. That's what I find so unique about our approach. Rather than someone coming in and saying "this is what you need to do and need to change," we help everyone figure out what assets we possess to make our own change. Otherwise it creates a cycle of dependency where nothing really changes. So rather than looking inward, maybe it's time to start looking outward.

An egg

Today I defended my thesis successfully and will be graduating with university honors. Let me tell you, this is a huge weight off my back. Last week I didn't even have a complete paper until about 4 on Friday afternoon. People said that student teaching would be hard, but I never really understood how hard until I looked up and saw that we had like 6 weeks to go in the semester and WAY too much work to get done. Somehow, though... I managed to make it.

I've spent the last six weeks teaching at two of the worst performing schools in the district. It has given me a lot of insight into teaching in a high poverty situation, that's for sure. I've had to deal with children's services, a physical fight, a lock down drill, tornado drill, fire drill, and a shooting of one family's uncle. To say that teaching takes a toll is the understatement of the year. Mentally, physically, emotionally, it was all I could do to get to spring break. But now that my thesis is mostly out of the way I think life will be an eensy bit better.

I also heard today that only two people applied for the two positions with Promise Neighborhood next year, and one of them will most likely be going on to grad school(aka we'd be really surprised if she didn't) - and I am not going on to grad school. So, W. said today that he was going to hire me and look for another person to fill the second spot. Nothing official, but in my book that's a real confirmation!

Also, W. did something today that rendered me speechless. He's been helping me through the whole thesis process and he and his wife were talking about me this morning because of my defense. This afternoon I went to meet him to talk about my presentation. He slid a small package wrapped in tissue paper toward me. "This is from Mar," he said. And then told me a beautiful story about how this gift, a small green ceramic/stone egg, is now mine. It used to be Mar's father's. He talked about the shape as not only the place where of course life is nurtured, but it speaks to the wider idea of new beginnings. And while there are many things coming to a close now that we have less than four weeks until commencement, it is also a time for new beginnings. And so of course I held back tears as this little inconspicuous stone encapsulates some of my anxieties, hopes, and blessings.

And what a blessing to have people like that in this world.

Love Wins

This blog post is about love.
That may seem a little... anticlamactic, perhaps, but at this time in my life where I feel like my toes are on the edge of the cliff, it seems like everything comes back to love.

I went home this weekend for a very short trip to celebrate my niece's first birthday. It was just the perfect length trip for me to see everyone but not really connect again. Especially with my father. I decided to spend saturday night with my cousin because I get to see her less often than my parents, and I also thought that I'd be spending lots of time with my parents the next day at the birthday party. Well, my dad didn't end up going to the birthday party because he recently broke a tooth and is in some pain (which is a whole other ordeal with us not having health insurance because now both of my parents are unemployed). So I saw him for about an hour when I got home Friday night... about an hour on Saturday between errands and when I went to my cousin's... and then today right before heading back to campus. For as complicated as our relationship is, he's still my dad and I still love him to death. Having to turn right around after a day and a half in town was so so so hard. Pulling out of the driveway and having him show me our "I love you" sign made me REALLY not want to come back to school.

The sermon today in church was about love. Not simply the romantic kind of love, but the love of relationships. And I think a big part of what it comes down to is vulnerability. To be close to someone, to have that connection, you must make yourself vulnerable or it will never happen. Some emotion, some event, opens the door where you show the other person 'this is how I'm feeling, this is what's happening, I need help, or I need support'. And every relationship has this mutual Opening of the Vulnerability Door, otherwise the relationship will never grow and evolve. So much of it is an 'i love you, you love me back' feeling that cements the relationship together. Seriously, this is literally a giant billboard from God or the Universe or whatever for EXACTLY what is going on in my life right now.

And that brings me to another thing - the college dating culture. Wait, what college dating culture? MY POINT EXACTLY. Everyone is so into the instant gratification and hooking up is rampant around here. But I don't want to hook up. I want to find someone who will not make me feel so freaking alone. Not that I am lonely, far from it. But sometimes the way my brain works makes me feel like no one really 'gets' me. And wouldn't it be nice to find someone who got me.

Pity, party of one.

Do you want a back rub or a mountain dew?

This is the start of my seventh week of my last semester of my senior year. I've been neglecting writing not because there is a shortage of things to talk about - no - it's because I've been too damn busy and lazy to write. What a surprise.

So, with this seven weeks thing comes the fact that I have only two weeks left at my current student teaching placement. I've been teaching middle and high school band at two schools 12 minutes (or so, depending on the bus and garbage truck schedule) away from campus. It has been: exhausting, exciting, frustrating, challenging, motivating, and at times hilarious. Nothing at school ever prepared me to deal with middle schoolers, and dear god do I never want to deal with them again. My sixth grade band is the biggest challenge by far. A) There are approximately 70 of them in class each day B) They are so bloody hormonal and hyper and CRAZY that it's all I can do to get them to Calm Down. I thought for sure the high school band was going to be the worst, but I've gotten to the point where I can joke with them and they actually think it's funny (let's reflect on my past band directors... lacking in the funnyness department) and they respect me enough to listen, be quiet, and take what I have to say and do to heart. It's such a joy to be with players who actually want to be there, unlike at the middle school where there are still some stragglers stuck in the ensemble who really don't give a crap.

One thing that set me back a bit this semester was the nose I happened to break myself about three weeks ago. It had been healing nicely with little to no pain left until I came down with this disgusting cold/sinus infection last thursday. All the snot-blowing and sneezing and coughing I've done has really done a number on my poor nose. It's throbbing right now. I really don't want to get the peas back out of the freezer, but I fear I might have to just to go to sleep tonight.

Another surprising event was a very unexpected email from a long-lost friend... okay, not really. My high school band director is a bit notorious for being, shall we say lax, on the whole keeping-in-touch concept. Mind you, this guy basically told me that if I wanted to study music in college that he would support me every step of the way, and that I had the power to do anything I wanted. I'd sent a few emails over the past few months with no reply, and by this point I was shooting in the dark for some kind of contact. I sent him a short email telling him how I was teaching middle and high school band and of course didn't get a reply - no surprise. But then, about a week and a half after I sent the email, I DID get a reply! Wonder of wonders. I immediately read it... and I immediately had tears in my eyes. Besides the note he sent me when I graduated high school, this was some of the most heartfelt writing I've ever recieved. I'm not going to post the whole thing on here because part of me wants to keep it close to myself (read: I'm a little selfish) but I will put down a few things:

I want you to know that I think about you a lot. I know I haven't talked to you enough. You're ending your beginning. I've thought about that more than maybe you know.

Though the end might not be everything you thought, it helps to know that it's part of that circle your started long before we ever met. I've always felt good about being a part of that.

Where do I begin... It's good to know that I didn't piss him off or anything because I didn't hear from him for so long - the thought did go through my head. And working through my own feelings of nostalgia at finishing college is magnified because he helped me begin here. This is one of those things you hang onto for forever.

Now that I've looked back, I shall look ahead. I found out today that we got $6,000 from the university for a position with Promise. We're up to a total of $16,000 which makes my future in The Field much, much more realistic. We just have to go through all the process of applying for a position and also dealing with room and board. In talking to Dr. w last week, he said we have one position for sure. Even though this is all happening I am really trying my hardest to not get overly excited about it. We are taking big steps in the right direction but I don't want to get my hopes too high and then be heartbroken if it doesn't work out. Hell, what if I don't even get chosen for the position? This is too much to think about. I hate having everything so unknown.

Oh, one more thing - I shot a gun this weekend. Don't worry, it was all in a safe shooting range environment. Frankly I was more than a little terrified - everything I've ever been taught is to run in the opposite direction of guns. But my best friend's brother is an MP (or was, I guess) and he has a .22 rifle and a .30 rifle. And I guess it's life experience I should have? Who knows. Anyway, I shot the .22 first and it was, besides being so morally against everything I knew, moderately cool. No recoil, not too loud, good control. But of course guys have to have the next-best-thing, so Ryan got out his .33 rifle. That sucker was LOUD. And the bullets were twice the size of the .22. Ryan had his kicks and then let Rachel and I try it. Had a little more kick than the other, but still not much - it's still quite frightening though. The shooting range is not a place for twitchy people. I was so hyper-sensitive.

Anyway, I gotta get to bed because with this sinus crap I need all the sleep I can to kick it to the curb. And I gotta get up early tomorrow for the first time in six days to teach.

P.S. Boys suck.