Bittersweet
-
Eyal and I always knew that it would be difficult building a family from
two different countries. It is just now, however, that we have to really
put that ...
14 years ago
Julius gives way to Augustus
Tomorrow begins that venerable month with the grand name. It's the month when people in Northern Hemispheric countries with both wealth and a cultural focus on enjoying life take weeks off and go on holiday. (Funny language side note: I saw my principal last week and he said he had just gotten back from Alaska. I said, "Were you on holiday?" which must have confused him a bit because his answer was, "We were on vacation." Then I realized that I was using the British/Australian usage; I caught myself saying "different to" instead of "different from" the other day too! What's happened to my linguistic identity?!)Anyway, we live in a country whose culture promotes the idea that we should enjoy work (rather than life in general), so there will be no disruptive month-long holidays/vacations here!
I haven't blogged because I've been spending plenty o' time on the computer with my online class (teaching reading to adolescents) and my curriculum preparation for next year. I also spent a week in Sacramento taking a one-week course (teaching students with disabilities) and spent not-quite-enough time studying for the third exam for becoming a social studies teacher. (More on that when I get the results in a few weeks!)
Some of the other activities of the past month are represented in the pictures and captions below. Not pictured were several Oakland/Berkeley hills hikes, a few nights of Settlers of Catan, backgammon at the Starry Plough, numerous neighborhood walks, some yoga,trips to various farmer's markets, and Saturday's visit to Point Reyes, where we wished we'd gone when Langguj Gel was here. Next time, Langguj Gel!
In August--the only month that's also an adjective--we can look forward to (a) a Kaser camping trip to Grover Hot Springs, (b) Justin's birthday, and (c) the beginning of my school year.
I haven't blogged because I've been spending plenty o' time on the computer with my online class (teaching reading to adolescents) and my curriculum preparation for next year. I also spent a week in Sacramento taking a one-week course (teaching students with disabilities) and spent not-quite-enough time studying for the third exam for becoming a social studies teacher. (More on that when I get the results in a few weeks!)
Some of the other activities of the past month are represented in the pictures and captions below. Not pictured were several Oakland/Berkeley hills hikes, a few nights of Settlers of Catan, backgammon at the Starry Plough, numerous neighborhood walks, some yoga,trips to various farmer's markets, and Saturday's visit to Point Reyes, where we wished we'd gone when Langguj Gel was here. Next time, Langguj Gel!
In August--the only month that's also an adjective--we can look forward to (a) a Kaser camping trip to Grover Hot Springs, (b) Justin's birthday, and (c) the beginning of my school year.
World Cup comment
Isn't it refreshing to see men encouraged to express their feelings so openly in a public forum? Especially feelings of pain and vulnerability.... No toughing it out, keeping a stiff upper lip, soldiering on, and so forth, for these men. I love it.
June summary
We were happy to have a visit from our friend S on his way from Oregon to a wedding in Santa Cruz. Then, just after their school year finished, we went up to Sonoma County to visit Justin's parents. One of our days up there included a lovely visit to redwoods, followed by a drive along the coast.
In the last couple of weeks, Justin and I have both started classes. Justin goes every day for several hours. I am taking an online course (my first ever) and am stuying for an unrelated exam next month. I also signed up for an intensive one-week course which was only offered in Sacramento. So I took the train up to my parents' house and stayed with them for a week while attending the course. It was the first time I think that we had that particular configuration of family members for about 29 years (when my little brother was born). My sister came up for a couple nights too, and we had a first-ever dad-and-daughters dinner.
Sacramento was experiencing weather in the triple-digits (eg 105) Fahrenheit (that's 40+ Celsius), but I didn't get to really relish it (or get sick of it), as I spent my days in an air-conditioned room, and then was whisked around either in air-conditioned cars or air-conditioned light rail trains. It was eerie how little contact one really has with the climate when living in a non-walking environment.
Now I'm back in Oakland, watching soccer games with my sweetie, playing Settlers of Cattan with my brother and his girlfriend, and hanging out chatting with my sisters. Not quite as much studying as I need to do, so I'll get right on that. Hmmmph. Blogging as procrastination. I'm not the first.
In the last couple of weeks, Justin and I have both started classes. Justin goes every day for several hours. I am taking an online course (my first ever) and am stuying for an unrelated exam next month. I also signed up for an intensive one-week course which was only offered in Sacramento. So I took the train up to my parents' house and stayed with them for a week while attending the course. It was the first time I think that we had that particular configuration of family members for about 29 years (when my little brother was born). My sister came up for a couple nights too, and we had a first-ever dad-and-daughters dinner.
Sacramento was experiencing weather in the triple-digits (eg 105) Fahrenheit (that's 40+ Celsius), but I didn't get to really relish it (or get sick of it), as I spent my days in an air-conditioned room, and then was whisked around either in air-conditioned cars or air-conditioned light rail trains. It was eerie how little contact one really has with the climate when living in a non-walking environment.
Now I'm back in Oakland, watching soccer games with my sweetie, playing Settlers of Cattan with my brother and his girlfriend, and hanging out chatting with my sisters. Not quite as much studying as I need to do, so I'll get right on that. Hmmmph. Blogging as procrastination. I'm not the first.
suffering and hope
Last week I went down to the high school where I'm going to be working starting in August (did I mention I got a job? I'll be an independent study teacher at Oasis High School.) I went to watch some senior presentations. The 12th graders had pursued a chosen topic over the course of several months. They wrote papers and did some kind of project and then it all culminated in a presentation to a small panel of adults and students. I thought it would be interesting to see what students were interested in and just to remind myself what high schoolers are like and what kind of work they do.
I listened to four presentations: Selena (the singer), the internal combustion engine, violence and children, and gun violence. This last wasn't so much a presentation as a testimonial, a witnessing. The visual aid consisted of pictures of the presenter's cousin and her brother's best friend who were both shot within the same week during this past year. She didn't have statistics or solutions, she simply talked about these young men and the families they'd left behind, including a baby each. She mentioned her best friend from several years ago who'd also been killed on the street. Before she'd said much, she was crying, her mother in the audience was crying, I was crying, and I think others were too. It is impossible not to respond to raw grief.
How, then, do we human beings continue to cause such pain to each other?
In the previous presentation, two sisters, one of whom was herself pregnant, had investigated the effect of violence on children. They researched child development and then visited a first grade classroom. They asked the 6- and 7-year-olds what "violence" means and were surprised at the specific examples the children offered. They asked how many children had personally experienced or witnessed violence, and every single child raised a hand. They asked the children to draw pictures showing what violence is. They shared those pictures with us as part of their presentation. I especially remember one: a drawing of three people, two close together and the third a little apart. All three seemed to be scratched out with strong red crayon marks. The young artist had explained that the two people on the left were her cousins who had died, and the third was herself. The red seemed to link them all together with pain.
On NPR yesterday I listened to some Palestinian and Isreali teenagers talking about the ways their thinking had been changed at Seeds of Peace summer camp, how they had developed friends they never thought they'd have. It made me cry and gave me hope.
I listened to four presentations: Selena (the singer), the internal combustion engine, violence and children, and gun violence. This last wasn't so much a presentation as a testimonial, a witnessing. The visual aid consisted of pictures of the presenter's cousin and her brother's best friend who were both shot within the same week during this past year. She didn't have statistics or solutions, she simply talked about these young men and the families they'd left behind, including a baby each. She mentioned her best friend from several years ago who'd also been killed on the street. Before she'd said much, she was crying, her mother in the audience was crying, I was crying, and I think others were too. It is impossible not to respond to raw grief.
How, then, do we human beings continue to cause such pain to each other?
In the previous presentation, two sisters, one of whom was herself pregnant, had investigated the effect of violence on children. They researched child development and then visited a first grade classroom. They asked the 6- and 7-year-olds what "violence" means and were surprised at the specific examples the children offered. They asked how many children had personally experienced or witnessed violence, and every single child raised a hand. They asked the children to draw pictures showing what violence is. They shared those pictures with us as part of their presentation. I especially remember one: a drawing of three people, two close together and the third a little apart. All three seemed to be scratched out with strong red crayon marks. The young artist had explained that the two people on the left were her cousins who had died, and the third was herself. The red seemed to link them all together with pain.
On NPR yesterday I listened to some Palestinian and Isreali teenagers talking about the ways their thinking had been changed at Seeds of Peace summer camp, how they had developed friends they never thought they'd have. It made me cry and gave me hope.
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