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Many of the pages that I read in the book Joy Luck Club, by Amy Tan have been interesting. The book talks lots about the story of the author's mother and her mother's mother. Many times when reading this book I ask myself, "What does the author want us, the readers to know and what feelings should we get after reading?" The author has done a very good job of writing different types of things that don't connect to each other after 151 page of reading. Overall the book has been great, and I will continue read the rest of it.

I am not so enjoying the book Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan because I'm not finding a theme to connect the different stories. An example of what I mean can be found on page 146: "Three days after watching The Ed Sullivan Show my mother told me what my schedule would be for piano lessons..." I think this is the worst thing that a mother can do to because telling someone in the same family to do something that you think is what they should do is the same as saying when you should live or die. The idea between both of these example are pretty much the same.    

One of the big ideas or themes in this book is telling of stories between a mother and a daughter   You can see this on page 150 where it says: "Bravo! Bravo! Well done! but I saw my mothers face, her stricken face." As you can see Tan wants us to think about how much she cares about how her mother feels even now. She sometimes may not have liked what she has done.

I am looking forward to reading the rest of this book because it can help me better understand what the author wants us readers to know and feel.

My wife, Karinna, and I have three children, two boys (ages 5 and 4) and one baby girl (3 1/2 weeks old).  At the beginning of this past school year, our eldest son was enrolled in a gifted and talented school on the upper-west side called the Anderson School.  Karinna would take the two boys (usually on the subway, but sometimes by car) to school and then sometimes she would stay with our youngest son all day in Manhattan (we live in Astoria, Queens) and sometimes she would make the round trip twice.  Needless to say it was expensive and too much to handle for anyone, but even more so since she was pregnant with our daughter.

The zoned school by our home did not have a G/T program for kindergarten so we didn't want to take him out of Anderson and leave him where he might get bored.  Consequently, we decided to homeschool him at least for the rest of the year.  Immediately we met with resistance from family, friends, even complete strangers, etc.  (might be nice to provide an example of this "resisitance" a quote, an anectode)  Everyone had an opinion and more often than not that opinion was negative.  And it was funny that people would say things like, "well, since you are only doing this temporarily or since he is young it is ok".  It was as though we needed their permission to proceed. 

And people really seem to be afraid or offended or somehow put off by the idea of homeschooling. 

Why?

 To stand in an apartment that is totally blackened by a fire is chilling. 

I still shudder when I think of that moment. 

I still shudder that my daughter, Marissa, left our apartment ten minutes earlier.

I still shudder when I think about what could have been.

Two years ago, a Glade candle burst out of its glass jar and ignited a kitchen tablecloth in my neighbor's first floor apartment.

                                                 The apartment was incinerated in minutes. 

                                                                     Their flat screen TV melted against the wall. 

                                                                                      All items were burned beyond recognition.

Most importantly, the young lady of the house managed to scoop her two adolescent children from both ends of the house and escaped her burning apartment with minor smoke enhalation.

God bless our NYC Fire Department who were on the scene in minutes.

I had just completed teaching my seventh period class when the phone call came through from the fire captain on the scene.  He told me that a small fire had occurred but that it was contained.  My next door neighbor, the father of one of my students, knew to tell the fire department to call me at school.  I am such a jaded New Yorker that I initially thought the phone call was from a prankster.  So funny how one can deny reality! 

The captain wanted to know if there was anyone in my apartment.

At that time, I wasn't sure whether Marissa had left for school.

The firefighters went through every nook and crannie looking for her.

They told me that no one was there.

Marissa later told me she had 58 missed calls from her anxious mother on her cell phone.

The NYC subway still doesn't get cell phone reception.

My para-professional took over my eighth period class as I raced out of school to my home one mile away. 

Five fire trucks were outside my house.  What an image.  Red, yellow and white lights swirling around.  Ladders up against the house.

Now for my second floor apartment, the smoke, water, glass, and firemen's feet caused damage to my property that was devastating. 

Mostly everything I owned was ruined. 

Many of my family photographs were saved because they were packed in plastic containers. 

You realize very quickly what is important to own and treasure vs. what is important  to just have. 

My two children and I lived with my Mom, in Woodside, Queens for seven months while my apartment was being renovated. 

After the dust settled, literally, it was amusing to see what did survive...

like my wedding album.  It was a great wedding, and I am glad I have a record of all whom I love who attended. 

Too bad the marriage didn't last. 

Ah, well!

                                                                         This experience puts into perspective how much stuff we don't need. 

                                                                                                                   George Carlin had it right.

http://www.writers-free-reference.com/funny/story085.htm

I am now at home catching up on what I have been learning. I cant get too deep into what is been taught now because I am writing my dissertation concept paper. So everthing is is locked out of my mind. Yes I must admit that I cant walk and chew gum at the same time. So what I do is take note go home and learn. I will spend 6 hours a night on my computer. Anyway, I turned on my computer and all the graphics were missing. I could not even respond to a post. So I turned on another computer and I am able to.

The thing about computer application software is its intutiveness, if you know to use photoshop, you should be able to use  frontpage , or NYCWP applications.

 I'm sure as teachers we've all used music and lyrics in one way or another in the classroom. And I'm sure as students we always wished that our teachers would use music and lyrics in the classroom. One of my goals is to read screenplays in the classroom with my students.

I think the Terminator 2 screenplay is something of substance and depth. It touches on many themes such as humanity & technology, dealing with personal demons, the consequences of our actions, how one can redeem themselves, and the idea of fate and can it be changed or not. You get the point. 

Back to the topic at hand. I'm a big advocate of using music and song lyrics in the classroom. Song lyrics can serve as bridges that allow students to make deeper connections or to understand a piece of literature better. I have used Jimmy Webb's "Highwayman" when teaching literary elements/terms. Heck, I even used the Nine Inch Nails' song, "Hurt" to emphasize the suffering of Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale in The Scarlet Letter.  

Now for the centerpiece, I've taught Macbeth twice  and both times I've used the lyrics from Jag Panzer's record Thane to the Throne to help my students develop an understanding of poor ol' Macbeth. 

Here are some links to the lyrics of some of the songs: 

This is a link to the lyrics of the first song on Thane to the Throne, which is shares its name with the record www.darklyrics.com/lyrics/jagpanzer/thanetothethrone.html#1.

Here's a link to the song "Three Voices of Fate:" www.darklyrics.com/lyrics/jagpanzer/thanetothethrone.html#8

Finally, here's another link to the song, "The Tragedy of Macbeth:" www.darklyrics.com/lyrics/jagpanzer/thanetothethrone.html#17

Photo taken from www.jagpanzer.com/

 

     Okay, color pages aside, I just want to apologize for this super late post. I've got things going on and well, you know. Okay, so this week we got a treat! Color pages! Yay! Let's get on with this post!
     Okay, so to start this chapter off, Tobi, Madara, whatever you want to call him, intercepts Team Taka on their way to Konoha. As seen in the pictures below, Sasuke informs the dude in the swirly mask that Taka isn't part of Akatsuki anymore. If this were in the anime, I imagine an evil chuckle right about...

 

 

     Heh heh. And now, time to screw with them. I think its safe to say that even Prince Emo himself is starting to feel something right now.
      Meanwhile, Back in Konoha...

 

Ah, let the fighting begin. Again.

      And that, my friends, is how you bring up old loves from the past...

 

...Efectively making old fangirls shut up. Not to mention the look Naruto gives her. What is that? Sorrow? Pity? Slight annoyance that she's crying again? Idk, but I kind of hope its the last one.

 

Ooh, I like this chick. Sure she's loud and pushy, but she tells it like it is. Plus, she's kind of like a cooler version of Sakura. Don't agree? Tell me why in the comments.

 

     *GASP!* Sai did something nice!? Well, if you see it as him trying to distract the cloud nin so that they can shut up and make Sakura stop crying, I guess it can be considered nice. Wow, that sounded a lot meaner than I meant it to sound....
ANYWAY! The two cloud nin inform them that their team leader is already scoping information out from the village, but they just wanted to get more because they refuse to sit around and do nothing while their Master is who-knows-where doing who-knows-what and fretting over if he's dead or alive. This seems to strike a nerve in Naruto and some old memories while he remembers saying something alond the same lines when he heard of Jiraiya's death.

 

     Let's finish this post off on a good note, shall we? The sand siblings finally get some screen time! Or, whatever you call it when its in a manga not an anime. Anyway, not only has Kankuro changed his face paint AGAIN, but all three got a wardrobe change! Yay! And... you know what? I'm not gonna go there... Anyway, see you next time! Ja ne! ^\\

Every day when my homeroom class and I say the Pledge of Allegiance, along with the voice over our school loudspeaker, the words "under God" stick in my throat.  I look at my class of students who celebrate Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, Muslim, Sikh, and are Jehovah's Witnesses, atheists and agnostics.  With such a diverse community, it doesn't feel right to say "under God" when not all in my class revere God.  I don't like that we are endangering our students' religious liberty. 

My question to you:  How do you feel about these observations and in what ways could a blog be superior to a discussion group?  

The period started like any other except when "Mary" arrived. She appeared withdrawn and sad. Normally she was bubbly and happy, so this alarmed me. When I asked her what was wrong she said, "My mother threw all of my pants away." Then she started to cry. I called for the CIT (Crisis Intervention Teacher) but she was on her lunch break. I called the SPARK Counselor but she was in a meeting. I couldn't just let this student sit there crying.

I asked her to explain what happened. Mary told us her mother was upset because Mary hadn't done the laundry so she took all of Mary's clothes and put them in the garbage. When Mary woke up to get ready for school she found she only had one pair of jeans left to wear.

I asked Mary if she would be happy if I made her a pair of pants. Mary's face brightened. "Do you know how to sew?"  "Sure I do," I said. (But I hadn't sewn since high school and that was many years ago, plus I didn't even own a sewing machine.)

So I promised Mary I would make her a pair of pants. I also promised Mary that these would be the most unusual pants she had ever seen. I asked her if she liked lime green, orange and bright yellow, flowers and plaid. She laughed and said yes to all of it. I told her that if I made the pants she would have to wear them. She agreed.

When the school day was over I was on a mission. I had to get the most unusual material and then find a sewing machine, and then make a pair of pants for Mary. Ha, I laughed at myself. How on earth was I going to make a pair of pants for this student by tomorrow?

I called my mother and asked if I could borrow her sewing machine. She of course said yes.  I drove out to Walmart and found the most unusual bright green patterned material available. I purchased the material, some thread and the simpliest pattern I could find.

I went to my mother's house and got her sewing machine out of the basement.Then I asked my mother, who by the way is an excellent seamstress, to make the pants. She reminded me that I promised my student that I would make the pants and therefore I would have to make the pants myself.

"Losers make promises they often break. Winners make commitments they always keep." Denis Waitley

She laughed as I struggled to thread the bobbin. She laughed even harder when I laid out the material. She nearly doubled over while I attempted to cut out my badly placed pattern.

Five and a half hours later the pants were finished.

The next day Mary couldn't wait to come to my class. Her face was glowing and her smile went from ear to ear. There were no pants laid out on my desk so she rushed over to me and said, "You didn't make them did you, Miss? I knew you wouldn't."

"Sure I did," I told her, and I pulled out a white Macy's box complete with white tissue paper. She opened the box and said, "You didn't make these. You bought them." Her friend "Carla" snatched the pants from Mary's hand and looked at the stitching inside and said, "Oh, s%*t, she really made them. Sorry Miss."

 Mary's smile brightened and she kept repeating, "I can't believe she made me some pants. No one ever made me anything."

Then I told Mary it was time for her to hold up to her end of the deal. I told her she had to wear the pants.

Mary left the room and returned still smiling and wearing the pants.

This was one of the most wonderful days as a teacher and it involved no teaching whatsoever. A teenager's smile was restored and I found out I still know how to sew, however badly, all thanks to a pair of magic pants.

Photo Source: All photos were taken by me (Crystal Gaskin) the day I brought the pants to school. The student in the second photo "Mary" agreed to having her photo taken provided that I not show her face in the picture.

from http://www.thomevans.com/images/gal3/The_Mother_The_Child.jpg

My daughter has been cleaning up her room, picking up clothes, throwing out notebooks, dusting.  Previously this would have been an indication that she wanted something I was likely to deny or that she was possessed by demons. Lately however, it indicates something much worse:  she is getting ready to go to college.  Don’t get me wrong.  I’m very proud of her.  I dutifully visited colleges with her, aided in essay writing, filled out financial aid forms. And lo and behold several  institutions of higher learning accepted her.  (God damn it!)  Pretty much ever since, I have been crying.

I guess it is fair to say that my daughter has been leaving me since the day she was born.  All the milestones indicated she would - from her first breath, to feeding herself, to wobbling away from me step by steadier step, to waving confidently as she entered the brick edifice of Jefferson Elementary School.  Still the force with which her imminent departure has battered me has been just shy of crippling.

It was my job as a parent, after all, to prepare her for an independent life.  I encouraged her (sometimes forcefully) to tell her own stories at four years old.  Two years later she crossed the street by herself and by age thirteen she made her own doctor appointments.  However, right about now, I am regretting that I did such a thorough job.  I will miss the interesting person with whom I share my home, my stuff and myself.   I find myself asking questions that range from minutia to massive, like:  Who will help me put on a necklace when my daughter goes to college?  Has the best part of my life already past?

I wistfully remember reading Harry Potter with her all night: taking time to perfect the voices of each character, making her wait as I paused between chapters, sending her to bed before she wanted but long after she was exhausted.  I remember impatiently shifting my weight from hip to hip as we waited for the bookstore to dole out fresh-from-the-box copies of her favorite tome.  I remember giddily giggling as we two curfew breakers waited for the midnight show to begin on opening day of the latest Potter flick.  Now I watch as she, at 18, rereads this beloved series and I am happy that I have passed down to her the joy of reading. 

Still I wonder, as I contemplate a rainy day reading with a cat swirled in my lap but no child snuggled against me, what books will be my companions as I embark on a new stage in my life?  Will I view them as hallmarks of a haloed future or as portents of a post-menopausal demise?