(ok, i'm going a little jonathan swift on you here... it's not all bad, but once i opened the window and started going, this is what came out.)
Dear Future Ms. P.G.,
While you may think that teaching English to urban youth is your life's calling, please do not take yourself or your ambition too seriously. Once you finally achieve this goal, you will find that it is essentially a joke. Your expectations are so far from reality that you may as well be thinking about an entirely different person's life. Forget everything now. Forget your visions of inculcating your students with The Truth - they will be too busy trying to tear the classroom apart and incite each other to mortal combat (or, alternately, too deeply asleep) to listen. Forget your naive allegiance to the tenets of a student-centered classroom and the laughable, kumbayah ethics of progressive education. And most importantly, forget yourself. Forget all of the moments you spent, yourself a high school student trudging through a thousand dreary assignments, knowing that It Could Be So Much Better than This - your own adolescence was a paragon of opportunity that the students you will come to teach would feign recognize as a high school education, mistaking it rather for a somewhat rigorous engagement at an underfunded country club. Forget all else except the blessed miracle of time's forward movement which will inevitably deliver you to the end of the day - lo, even to the far-off paradise of a Friday afternoon - for this and your own meager wits are all that will sustain you.
But do not be discouraged. Despite the near-total apathy of your students, the complete incompetence of the administration and your own lack of preparation, you will find allies in your coworkers, with whom you will carp endlessly during lunch hours. You will also find succor in the tremendous amounts of coffee you consume daily, and in the glasses of wine that await at a day's end. And, at the very least, at least you aren't selling pussy dye.
Please heed this advice as well as one's previous self, bound by temporal causality, can - your very sanity depends upon it.
Sincerely,
Present Ms. P.G.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Monday, October 22, 2007
good manners & evil queens
i feel something taking shape in myself. i'd like to flatter myself and say it's a good person. by this, i mean someone with good manners. to say "someone with good manners" might be treating everything like a nail a little too much but i realized this summer at camp that the least we should expect from each other, no matter what kind of situation we're in, is good manners. of course, this brings into question from whose culture the manners are referenced, but i suppose the rule of thumb would be first to consider another person's space and how well their needs are being met and to go from there. and so i'm trying to practice this with everyone, including myself. it's a useful sort of compass.
for me, it is good manners to be honest. i have been asking myself a lot lately, "what is your true intention here? what do you really want, and what do you really need?" these questions have helped me already in a couple of situations, but there are blind spots. it seems that the place where honesty breaks down is in the relationships between the sexes. we fall into old, easy patterns out of laziness but more often because of the intoxicating possibility of union with someone else on a number of levels. when i am honest with myself, i see that the sexual is all-pervasive in my thoughts - not because of an desire to experience pleasure as much as the constant lure of a power interplay. but we cannot be honest with each other about sex; we would then be being honest about power.
i just tried to frame a confession in a metaphor, tried to explain how my intentions sometimes aren't pure when i know i have captivated a man's attention. i wanted to talk about how what i really seem to be looking for is a mirror to cast a flattering reflection, and then i realized the parallel between that metaphor and the evil queen in Snow White... and of course being as full of the Jung, RAW and feminist Irish poet as i am, went into the symbolic substance there. the evil queen's most powerful motif is excess vanity - her wish to see herself, regardless of the truth, as the most beautiful woman. her repugnance is her stubborn unwillingness to accept that she not the most beautiful (which can be read, at least by me, as "the most powerful"). so there it is (or perhaps i have digressed too far), that naked clamor for power in the guise of flirtation - ugly, certainly not good manners, but something i recognize in myself. but even as i process this, i realize that without the evil queen and her cruel, insatiable vanity, there would be no story - no Snow White would ever find her Seven Dwarves or, obviously, Prince Charming. and, to recognize that the full cast of characters as possible selves (as i must, Child of Western Archetypes that i am), i may be staring a man in the eyes to see my reflection, but i will always have my eyes open for the possibility of really seeing him for who he is. and if that impulse is not always guided by good manners, it is at the very least governed by honest curiosity.
for me, it is good manners to be honest. i have been asking myself a lot lately, "what is your true intention here? what do you really want, and what do you really need?" these questions have helped me already in a couple of situations, but there are blind spots. it seems that the place where honesty breaks down is in the relationships between the sexes. we fall into old, easy patterns out of laziness but more often because of the intoxicating possibility of union with someone else on a number of levels. when i am honest with myself, i see that the sexual is all-pervasive in my thoughts - not because of an desire to experience pleasure as much as the constant lure of a power interplay. but we cannot be honest with each other about sex; we would then be being honest about power.
i just tried to frame a confession in a metaphor, tried to explain how my intentions sometimes aren't pure when i know i have captivated a man's attention. i wanted to talk about how what i really seem to be looking for is a mirror to cast a flattering reflection, and then i realized the parallel between that metaphor and the evil queen in Snow White... and of course being as full of the Jung, RAW and feminist Irish poet as i am, went into the symbolic substance there. the evil queen's most powerful motif is excess vanity - her wish to see herself, regardless of the truth, as the most beautiful woman. her repugnance is her stubborn unwillingness to accept that she not the most beautiful (which can be read, at least by me, as "the most powerful"). so there it is (or perhaps i have digressed too far), that naked clamor for power in the guise of flirtation - ugly, certainly not good manners, but something i recognize in myself. but even as i process this, i realize that without the evil queen and her cruel, insatiable vanity, there would be no story - no Snow White would ever find her Seven Dwarves or, obviously, Prince Charming. and, to recognize that the full cast of characters as possible selves (as i must, Child of Western Archetypes that i am), i may be staring a man in the eyes to see my reflection, but i will always have my eyes open for the possibility of really seeing him for who he is. and if that impulse is not always guided by good manners, it is at the very least governed by honest curiosity.
Friday, October 19, 2007
media & me
double whammy last night of dinner w/ another ESL teacher and watching "the office" w/ alison. dinner was at this great South Indian restaurant on lex and 27th - yummy dosas & Brooklyn IPA and good conversation about students and politics and timespace patterns. so cool to fall into the conversation you knew you were going to have with someone who is essentially a perfect stranger: he said "it's doesn't matter so much whose mouth it came out of but the fact that it came out of someone's mouth." in other words, it's all the same thing - the same thought-impulse coming out of the human organism.
and then watching "the office"- or rather, a kabillion minutes of advertising and "the office." first, i'd like to make the obvious observation that perhaps the popularity of "the office" and "officespace" and related comedies/sitcoms makes a strong case for Western society's dawning recognition that people aren't designed to work in offices. and to take this to its logical conclusion, most of the way we live our lives today is based much more in convenience (mostly economic and social) than it is in any fulfillment of our spiritual or emotional needs. (of course i'm not saying anything that hasn't been said before, and - the worse offense - i'm taking the spiritual fulfillment stance, but this is what i see.) watching television is a difficult undertaking for me. on the first level, i'm expected to interact with a story line and a cast of characters that i don't know, whom i know don't really exist. at the next level, i can't help but to constantly interpret them through the filter of my knowledge that it's someone's job to create these people and situations, that testing has even been done to ascertain what will give me or someone like me the most enjoyable television-watching experience. and thirdly is the "me or someone like me" awareness - all of a sudden i'm part of this gigantic entity of Americans who watch "the office" on thursday night, and of every person who thinks like me and sees it for the media machine it is, there are three people (a generous estimate) who buy it whole hog, who probably aren't able to discern their buying it from enjoying it.
because most people like to watch television. most people come home and "unplug" from their work by plugging into the TV. it has become, for better or worse, our fantasy playground, and i suppose that in a lot of ways we need it. i used to think that the entertainment industry was complete fluff and it boggled my mind that billions of dollars are spent on nothing more than making up some stories, but now, after having digested some good ol' Jung, i see that we desperately need our fantasies. (we must, right? how else could the benefits of making another shitty dane cook movie or "reality" TV series versus, say, feeding or vaccinating a few hundred thousand people be explained?)
but here's the thing: i'm not sure if my fantasies look like those ones. i'm reading this kind of dull book right now called "object lessons" which, as far as i can see, centers around one woman poet's experiences discovering what it means to be a woman and a poet at the same time. her thesis is that women and their lives are the object of a poem but are only now becoming the subject of it, and as such we have only been seen from the outside and romanticized or objectified. while this seemed a little facile to me at first, or even untrue (perhaps because of having come into consciousness in the post-women's lib generations), what she writes has begun to sound a deep chord in me, at least when i'm watching NBC on a thursday night. those stories - most of the stories that can be found in mainstream media - don't do it for me. i want to really be entertained - i want real stories. and perhaps the only way to get them is to make them for myself.
and then watching "the office"- or rather, a kabillion minutes of advertising and "the office." first, i'd like to make the obvious observation that perhaps the popularity of "the office" and "officespace" and related comedies/sitcoms makes a strong case for Western society's dawning recognition that people aren't designed to work in offices. and to take this to its logical conclusion, most of the way we live our lives today is based much more in convenience (mostly economic and social) than it is in any fulfillment of our spiritual or emotional needs. (of course i'm not saying anything that hasn't been said before, and - the worse offense - i'm taking the spiritual fulfillment stance, but this is what i see.) watching television is a difficult undertaking for me. on the first level, i'm expected to interact with a story line and a cast of characters that i don't know, whom i know don't really exist. at the next level, i can't help but to constantly interpret them through the filter of my knowledge that it's someone's job to create these people and situations, that testing has even been done to ascertain what will give me or someone like me the most enjoyable television-watching experience. and thirdly is the "me or someone like me" awareness - all of a sudden i'm part of this gigantic entity of Americans who watch "the office" on thursday night, and of every person who thinks like me and sees it for the media machine it is, there are three people (a generous estimate) who buy it whole hog, who probably aren't able to discern their buying it from enjoying it.
because most people like to watch television. most people come home and "unplug" from their work by plugging into the TV. it has become, for better or worse, our fantasy playground, and i suppose that in a lot of ways we need it. i used to think that the entertainment industry was complete fluff and it boggled my mind that billions of dollars are spent on nothing more than making up some stories, but now, after having digested some good ol' Jung, i see that we desperately need our fantasies. (we must, right? how else could the benefits of making another shitty dane cook movie or "reality" TV series versus, say, feeding or vaccinating a few hundred thousand people be explained?)
but here's the thing: i'm not sure if my fantasies look like those ones. i'm reading this kind of dull book right now called "object lessons" which, as far as i can see, centers around one woman poet's experiences discovering what it means to be a woman and a poet at the same time. her thesis is that women and their lives are the object of a poem but are only now becoming the subject of it, and as such we have only been seen from the outside and romanticized or objectified. while this seemed a little facile to me at first, or even untrue (perhaps because of having come into consciousness in the post-women's lib generations), what she writes has begun to sound a deep chord in me, at least when i'm watching NBC on a thursday night. those stories - most of the stories that can be found in mainstream media - don't do it for me. i want to really be entertained - i want real stories. and perhaps the only way to get them is to make them for myself.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
a little piece of paper
so: i am cleared to get hired (i think) and ... AM ACTUALLY CERTIFIED TO TEACH IN THE STATE OF NEW YORK. i really never thought this day would come - all of the bureaucratic nonsense, and hundreds of dollars of fees, and tests, and paperwork, and phonecalls, to say nothing of the four years of college, the student teaching, visits to 65 Court Street, gnashing of teeth and pulling of hair, all of it culminating into this one glorious moment where the little white lie on my resume ("NYS Certified") is finally true. amazing that a stupid piece of paper can make me feel this elated.
i will start teaching on the 29th (yes, two days before Halloween - how fortuitous!). visited the school yesterday and sat in on a couple of my sections. i will tell you this, O Blogosphere, i am scared. i am scared because they say i look about 15 years old, scared because the Bloods are recruiting, scared that i don't have the organizational skills or patience or moxie to do this. but this is what i've been waiting for. as i told patito last night, i have absolutely no idea what it's really going to be like - my expectations have so little bearing on what the reality is going to be that i may as well try not to indulge them.
and i quit my stupid job. i got paid today - i'm so looking forward to the day that getting paid won't make me feel like i've been punched in the face (or make me want to punch someone else in the face.) that being said, i'm trying to hang in there for my students' sakes - haven't yet told them that i'm leaving although i've dropped a few hints. i'm really going to miss my week class but hopefully i'll be able to stay in touch with some of them, and they did teach me a lot (as they always will, right?)
what else... the weather's turning here. it's chilly in the morning - makes it even harder to get out of bed - but i love it, love how a different season can make me see this city in a new light. it's a sort of reprieve, a reminder that things aren't always going to be the same, although with all this change i don't know why i'm looking for more.
i will start teaching on the 29th (yes, two days before Halloween - how fortuitous!). visited the school yesterday and sat in on a couple of my sections. i will tell you this, O Blogosphere, i am scared. i am scared because they say i look about 15 years old, scared because the Bloods are recruiting, scared that i don't have the organizational skills or patience or moxie to do this. but this is what i've been waiting for. as i told patito last night, i have absolutely no idea what it's really going to be like - my expectations have so little bearing on what the reality is going to be that i may as well try not to indulge them.
and i quit my stupid job. i got paid today - i'm so looking forward to the day that getting paid won't make me feel like i've been punched in the face (or make me want to punch someone else in the face.) that being said, i'm trying to hang in there for my students' sakes - haven't yet told them that i'm leaving although i've dropped a few hints. i'm really going to miss my week class but hopefully i'll be able to stay in touch with some of them, and they did teach me a lot (as they always will, right?)
what else... the weather's turning here. it's chilly in the morning - makes it even harder to get out of bed - but i love it, love how a different season can make me see this city in a new light. it's a sort of reprieve, a reminder that things aren't always going to be the same, although with all this change i don't know why i'm looking for more.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
tectonic movement
as of my last post, i've had quite a few changes take place. am finally settling into the new apartment, which i'm pretty thrilled with (as of right now). actually had the "this rug really pulls the room together" conversation with pete, and then had the requisite "did we actually just say that" moment. having my first real place, where i pay for it and have my name on the lease and things, makes me have little reflective bursts all the time, like "gee i guess this is what it's like to be a real person." they come now and i'm almost ashamed of them because i know that the rest of the world has been aware of these kinds of responsibilities this whole time and i'm just arriving onto the scene. it's like the awareness after you get your driver's license or turn 21 that all that anticipation leads up to a whole new set of tasks, and that you'll probably be bitching about what you were just celebrating. but i will always be having those moments, i will always be realizing that i'm a new inductee to one legion or another - perhaps the graceful thing to do is to just let it be that moment of newness (or of whatever.)
aaaaaaaaaand. i got a Real Teaching Job. well, sort of. the things i need to do to get the job for real are 1) get a file number/get certified (still? still. fuck me.) and 2) quit ESL job. and it is ever so easy to whine about how difficult these things are going to be but the plain fact of the matter is that this is my in. this is what i am supposed to be doing. this is the time for me to triumph over the gorgon bureaucracy and get myself where i deserve to be. this is not that say that i'm not a little apprehensive about beginning this job. the school is 70% guys, is only 4 years old, and as the AP told me, not without its structural flaws. on the plus side, i'll be able to bike to work (it's in williamsburg) and will no longer need to go to manhattan as much. so. i'm trying to be pragmatic and action action action on this but let me unburden myself as i cannot elsewhere that i'm blown away by the amount of responsibility i'm about to take on. am i worthy? will i do a good job? of how much am i truly capable?
pato visited this weekend, too. it was a nice time - lovely dinner at hearth (i had the bass with calamari and chickpeas), brunch at roebling, indian food, not nearly as much adventuring as i had planned, but taking a nap and eating a good meal were top priorities on my list (lazy-ass that i am.) but nevertheless - some beautiful moments: walking the tree-lined streets of bushwick, smoking under our umbrellas with the storm overhead, the roses on my bureau reminding me of his visit. i fear he showed me a better time than i did him, but i think that might have a lot to do with my slow comprehension of how to let myself be treated. i think that this trip proved him to be a bulwark for me in this new time.
so now to bed for some much-needed rest. i have a lot to take care of in the next few days.
aaaaaaaaaand. i got a Real Teaching Job. well, sort of. the things i need to do to get the job for real are 1) get a file number/get certified (still? still. fuck me.) and 2) quit ESL job. and it is ever so easy to whine about how difficult these things are going to be but the plain fact of the matter is that this is my in. this is what i am supposed to be doing. this is the time for me to triumph over the gorgon bureaucracy and get myself where i deserve to be. this is not that say that i'm not a little apprehensive about beginning this job. the school is 70% guys, is only 4 years old, and as the AP told me, not without its structural flaws. on the plus side, i'll be able to bike to work (it's in williamsburg) and will no longer need to go to manhattan as much. so. i'm trying to be pragmatic and action action action on this but let me unburden myself as i cannot elsewhere that i'm blown away by the amount of responsibility i'm about to take on. am i worthy? will i do a good job? of how much am i truly capable?
pato visited this weekend, too. it was a nice time - lovely dinner at hearth (i had the bass with calamari and chickpeas), brunch at roebling, indian food, not nearly as much adventuring as i had planned, but taking a nap and eating a good meal were top priorities on my list (lazy-ass that i am.) but nevertheless - some beautiful moments: walking the tree-lined streets of bushwick, smoking under our umbrellas with the storm overhead, the roses on my bureau reminding me of his visit. i fear he showed me a better time than i did him, but i think that might have a lot to do with my slow comprehension of how to let myself be treated. i think that this trip proved him to be a bulwark for me in this new time.
so now to bed for some much-needed rest. i have a lot to take care of in the next few days.
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