Sunday, September 18, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Ye Old Problem
What to wear?
I am preparing to facilitate an alternative spring break trip with a group of 15 undergraduates to a small Caribbean island. As part of our preparations for the trip, our group is meeting weekly to prepare for the trip, talk about our goals, reflect, and handle all of the logistics.
I consider myself a queen of logistics and also a master of packing. Therefore, I offered to take on the task of preparing a mini visual slide show for the attending students. Undergraduates don't always have the best fashion discretion, especially when it comes to dressing - on any given day, short shorts, skinny jeans, strappy tank tops, and sweat pants rue the day. Some playful coaching is in order.
Living out my Stacey and Clinton fantasy, I got to achieve a What Not to Wear moment assembling these collages using the addictively fun Polyvore. Much like WNTW, my approach was to give students some general guidelines or "rules." I tried to give options along a spectrum of better (left) to worse (right). Everything here is pretty cheap - it's a guide for undergrads, after all. It's not about money, it's about selecting versatile pieces that support the work at hand.
It made me feel a little old putting these images together.
1. Most of our "service" will consist of working with special needs children in a school. All volunteers are provided with clean t-shirts on a daily basis, but the "bottoms" need to be fairly conservative and professional. Here are my suggestions (everything is on the approved list):
4. Perhaps the trickiest area to negotiate is the beach. The basic guideline I'd encourage the students to think about is that they should choose a swimsuit they'd wear when teaching swimming lessons to children - sporty one pieces and tankinis. Sunscreen, hats, and light cover-ups are a must. I am hopeful I won't get too much push back here, but I hope not to see too many string bikinis. Again, the left side features appropriate looks.
2. When we're not volunteering, our group will engage in sightseeing and island tourism. Here, some clothing coaching was definitely in order as undergrads often struggle with appropriate play clothes. I recommend fairly modest Bermuda shorts, practical cotton shirts, and comfortable footwear (left). I plan to make light of the items on the left - emphasizing that young women traveling to the developing world ought to leave the short shorts, tanks, and high heels at home!
3. At some point in our trip, we're likely to have an audience with some local dignitaries - the Prime Minister, President, or the Education Minister. The tricky thing is that the island is tropical, casual and we're encouraging students to pack LIGHT. Given what I know, I think the items on the left will work - cotton sundresses, dressy tops, or slacks. The items on the right are too casual.
4. Perhaps the trickiest area to negotiate is the beach. The basic guideline I'd encourage the students to think about is that they should choose a swimsuit they'd wear when teaching swimming lessons to children - sporty one pieces and tankinis. Sunscreen, hats, and light cover-ups are a must. I am hopeful I won't get too much push back here, but I hope not to see too many string bikinis. Again, the left side features appropriate looks.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Service Learning
At this point, Cookie Monsters is becoming more of a quarterly report than a weekly reader.
The greatest irony is that I really need a little more CM ethos in my life -- clearing out the clutter, getting back to basics, and celebrating small pleasures. I've spent the better part of fall semester working on lots of new work projects, dealing with two curve balls that kept me out of the office for a while (my grandmother's death, a brush with bronchitis), and just feeling sort of boring and dull.
One of my new projects this fall has been to launch a new Service Learning initiative at Trinity University. Several years ago, I attended a workshop on Service Learning hosted by the Vermont Campus Compact. The whole idea of service learning is to give students a "real life" hands-on experience to use the theories and skills developed through coursework. Projects have a partner in the community -- and the project should be mutually beneficial to the organization's needs and the students' abilities. Thus, the project should be symbiotic, allowing students to give back in a way that helps an organization. The project can really come in any shape or size, last for an hour or for a thousand hours. One working definition is:
It was easy for me to conceptualize service learning in the context of the education department. Whenever someone approaches me to talk about becoming a teacher, the first thing I do is to send them out in the field to get some confirming evidence. Before you apply to a teacher ed program, you really should spend time in a local school or working one-on-one with kids. This class gives formal structure (and academic credit) to this exploratory experience. Plus, as a small, private liberal arts university, many of our students are community service minded. They are already active volunteers -- I just wanted to find a way to support that, academically.
Therefore, students have the freedom to design and execute a project of their choice. They pick the partner, decide when and how to serve, and define their own goals. It's very open-ended, but also entirely responsive to student interest.
This fall we're piloting the course. With 35 active participants, and each committing to 20 hours of service, the members of course are on track to contribute 700 hours of volunteerism to the San Antonio community – working with schools, hospitals, tutoring organizations, individuals, and shelters. I am really touched to see this good work up close, admiring my students' commitment to make a difference in the lives of others.
As part of the "work" of the course, students write a proposal and a reflective final paper. Also, during the semester, they must make two contributions to our class blog. Also on this note, my friend Mike has written about class blogs and I've found his insights to be very valuable.
Yesterday afternoon I had some drop-in time for students to come in and talk about their work. I helped brainstorm ways for students to find additional hours (if needed) and had a chance to hear more about their successes.
Two students told me about the experience of mentoring at-risk middle school students. I have both of these students in my urban education class -- two motivated, involved young women who happen to be thoughtful, talented, and hardworking. One student is a cheerleader and another is an aspiring pre-school teacher.
One student told me about her mentee, a 15-year old 8th grader, who was repeating the grade for the third time. Another is working with a "tough student," known for her attitude and reputation for cussing at teachers and getting into physical fights daily, both at home and at school. They talked to me about seeing a pregnant 7th grader walking through the hallway. These are real life, at-risk kids. We don't know how their stories will end.
It sounds like the Trinity students are actually making headway, connecting to their 8th grader and establishing some sort of (unlikely) bond. Independently of each other, they told me that when they leave the school, they always call their mom or dad to check-in. They talked about the guilt they feel, for their stable homes, support networks, and positive opportunities. When they talk about their mentees, both almost cried.
The greatest irony is that I really need a little more CM ethos in my life -- clearing out the clutter, getting back to basics, and celebrating small pleasures. I've spent the better part of fall semester working on lots of new work projects, dealing with two curve balls that kept me out of the office for a while (my grandmother's death, a brush with bronchitis), and just feeling sort of boring and dull.
One of my new projects this fall has been to launch a new Service Learning initiative at Trinity University. Several years ago, I attended a workshop on Service Learning hosted by the Vermont Campus Compact. The whole idea of service learning is to give students a "real life" hands-on experience to use the theories and skills developed through coursework. Projects have a partner in the community -- and the project should be mutually beneficial to the organization's needs and the students' abilities. Thus, the project should be symbiotic, allowing students to give back in a way that helps an organization. The project can really come in any shape or size, last for an hour or for a thousand hours. One working definition is:
"Service-Learning is a teaching and learning strategy that integrates meaningfulAnyone who has ever taught understands the value of applied learning. Not only do students have the opportunity to internalize and use skills, but working with a real partner gives the project authentic value, intrinsic worth. Therefore, even if you overlook the benefits to an community organization, it's a great teaching strategy with substantive merits.
community service with instruction and reflection to enrich the learning
experience, teach civic responsibility, and strengthen communities."
It was easy for me to conceptualize service learning in the context of the education department. Whenever someone approaches me to talk about becoming a teacher, the first thing I do is to send them out in the field to get some confirming evidence. Before you apply to a teacher ed program, you really should spend time in a local school or working one-on-one with kids. This class gives formal structure (and academic credit) to this exploratory experience. Plus, as a small, private liberal arts university, many of our students are community service minded. They are already active volunteers -- I just wanted to find a way to support that, academically.
Therefore, students have the freedom to design and execute a project of their choice. They pick the partner, decide when and how to serve, and define their own goals. It's very open-ended, but also entirely responsive to student interest.
This fall we're piloting the course. With 35 active participants, and each committing to 20 hours of service, the members of course are on track to contribute 700 hours of volunteerism to the San Antonio community – working with schools, hospitals, tutoring organizations, individuals, and shelters. I am really touched to see this good work up close, admiring my students' commitment to make a difference in the lives of others.
As part of the "work" of the course, students write a proposal and a reflective final paper. Also, during the semester, they must make two contributions to our class blog. Also on this note, my friend Mike has written about class blogs and I've found his insights to be very valuable.
Yesterday afternoon I had some drop-in time for students to come in and talk about their work. I helped brainstorm ways for students to find additional hours (if needed) and had a chance to hear more about their successes.
Two students told me about the experience of mentoring at-risk middle school students. I have both of these students in my urban education class -- two motivated, involved young women who happen to be thoughtful, talented, and hardworking. One student is a cheerleader and another is an aspiring pre-school teacher.
One student told me about her mentee, a 15-year old 8th grader, who was repeating the grade for the third time. Another is working with a "tough student," known for her attitude and reputation for cussing at teachers and getting into physical fights daily, both at home and at school. They talked to me about seeing a pregnant 7th grader walking through the hallway. These are real life, at-risk kids. We don't know how their stories will end.
It sounds like the Trinity students are actually making headway, connecting to their 8th grader and establishing some sort of (unlikely) bond. Independently of each other, they told me that when they leave the school, they always call their mom or dad to check-in. They talked about the guilt they feel, for their stable homes, support networks, and positive opportunities. When they talk about their mentees, both almost cried.
Friday, July 24, 2009
A Feast Moves On
Last night, I got an email from the owner of one of my all time favorite New York City restaurants, Village, to announce that the establishment would be closing on Saturday. Yes, I like this place so much that two years after I moved to Texas, I continue to subscribe to the patron mailing list. The closing announcement lingers in my gut with a palatable sadness - the reason for closure felt like a calculated, personal injustice - "Our lease is up and, in a distinct irony given the times, the landlord was able to find a new tenant to pay double our rent."
Nothing makes me more nostalgic than talking about New York, especially the glimmering, golden, remembered and reconstructed New York of my youth, the evidence is all over my face. Village is a shining relic from my most recent time living in NYC in 2006. Unlike the cheap bars and restaurants I frequented as college kid on summer vacation, Village seemed to meet me where I was in my mid-twenties, refined, deco / European / Parisian flair, solid, delicious, and affordable. The service was always great and the dining room, well-appointed. Among the mainstays of the menu, one of the best roast chickens I've ever had - a steal for $30 prix fixe, a fabulous, bad-day-fixing, fluffy yellow omelet paired with simple salad and matchstick frites, and an ooey-gooey grilled cheese that was exactly what a wise, foodie friend called "the sleeper hit" of the menu.
I won't take any unearned credit for discovering the place, but once was I turned onto it, I claimed it, it became my go-to spot. Back in '06, I worked in Harlem and lived on Long Island. On a daily basis, I endured a one-way commute that routinely took between 60 and 90 minutes, depending on the mercy of the train deities. In that year, we did very little entertaining at "home," a crummy one-bedroom apartment with an even crappier kitchen that was 60-90 minutes away from the culinary capital of the world. Therefore, Village became a kind of surrogate dinner party space. It was a neighborhood kind of place, even though I lived nowhere near trendy 26th Street.
As I was reading the email about the restaurant's closing, in my mind, I saw a parade of cinematic flashes. I imagined myself seated at the various tables in the dining room - sharing a downtown dinner with my husband before rushing to hear Josh Ritter at the Beacon, a late dinner with a film professor friend on a rainy week night, reconnecting over wine with an old friend who deals coins. I remember meeting Yoshi for Belgian beers at dark bar downtown, and after several rounds of Chimay, stumbling out and finding Village - exactly what we needed at that moment - salty, yummy, bistro perfection. Village always fortified me with exactly what I needed.
What will now forever be my last trip to Village, was a wonderful, exuberant send-off. It was the Friday dinner of a long-weekend spent in New York City with friends last September. We were giggly and beside ourselves to spot one of the most famous contestants of Project Runway sitting a few tables away (in my reality tv-infused world, this constitutes a major, A-list celebrity). We tried to play it cool - when BAM - a piece of plaster fell from the ceiling and landed on Jack's shoulder, leaving a white trace behind on his black jacket. It took a minute for us to realize exactly what had happened, but once we determined that everyone was fine, we moved on to our appetizers, a free round of champagne cocktails helped.
I am usually prone to photographing my food, or the company around the table, at restaurants. For some reason, I never took a single photo at Village. There was probably part of me that wanted to take a picture during the most recent trip - especially one of those "you think I am taking a photo of my friend, but I am actually snapping something behind him - in this case, Austin Scarlett." I can't share it with anyone else, but I find great pleasure in replaying this jovial slide show of the stylish dining room in my memory, sipping it up in tiny portions. I am very sad thinking that I'll never be going back.
Nothing makes me more nostalgic than talking about New York, especially the glimmering, golden, remembered and reconstructed New York of my youth, the evidence is all over my face. Village is a shining relic from my most recent time living in NYC in 2006. Unlike the cheap bars and restaurants I frequented as college kid on summer vacation, Village seemed to meet me where I was in my mid-twenties, refined, deco / European / Parisian flair, solid, delicious, and affordable. The service was always great and the dining room, well-appointed. Among the mainstays of the menu, one of the best roast chickens I've ever had - a steal for $30 prix fixe, a fabulous, bad-day-fixing, fluffy yellow omelet paired with simple salad and matchstick frites, and an ooey-gooey grilled cheese that was exactly what a wise, foodie friend called "the sleeper hit" of the menu.
I won't take any unearned credit for discovering the place, but once was I turned onto it, I claimed it, it became my go-to spot. Back in '06, I worked in Harlem and lived on Long Island. On a daily basis, I endured a one-way commute that routinely took between 60 and 90 minutes, depending on the mercy of the train deities. In that year, we did very little entertaining at "home," a crummy one-bedroom apartment with an even crappier kitchen that was 60-90 minutes away from the culinary capital of the world. Therefore, Village became a kind of surrogate dinner party space. It was a neighborhood kind of place, even though I lived nowhere near trendy 26th Street.
As I was reading the email about the restaurant's closing, in my mind, I saw a parade of cinematic flashes. I imagined myself seated at the various tables in the dining room - sharing a downtown dinner with my husband before rushing to hear Josh Ritter at the Beacon, a late dinner with a film professor friend on a rainy week night, reconnecting over wine with an old friend who deals coins. I remember meeting Yoshi for Belgian beers at dark bar downtown, and after several rounds of Chimay, stumbling out and finding Village - exactly what we needed at that moment - salty, yummy, bistro perfection. Village always fortified me with exactly what I needed.
What will now forever be my last trip to Village, was a wonderful, exuberant send-off. It was the Friday dinner of a long-weekend spent in New York City with friends last September. We were giggly and beside ourselves to spot one of the most famous contestants of Project Runway sitting a few tables away (in my reality tv-infused world, this constitutes a major, A-list celebrity). We tried to play it cool - when BAM - a piece of plaster fell from the ceiling and landed on Jack's shoulder, leaving a white trace behind on his black jacket. It took a minute for us to realize exactly what had happened, but once we determined that everyone was fine, we moved on to our appetizers, a free round of champagne cocktails helped.
I am usually prone to photographing my food, or the company around the table, at restaurants. For some reason, I never took a single photo at Village. There was probably part of me that wanted to take a picture during the most recent trip - especially one of those "you think I am taking a photo of my friend, but I am actually snapping something behind him - in this case, Austin Scarlett." I can't share it with anyone else, but I find great pleasure in replaying this jovial slide show of the stylish dining room in my memory, sipping it up in tiny portions. I am very sad thinking that I'll never be going back.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Dignified and Adult
I ever do get around to writing a blog entry, here's another topic for my list!
Why on earth do people go to the trouble of "un-friending" you on facebook?
I just find that terribly childish. I mean really... is it worth the effort of un-friending (not that it takes a tremendous amount of labor) just to make a statement that you are clearly NOT friends with someone, lest anyone suspect otherwise?
Do you remember my friend (we'll call her) Sheila? I'm sure you've heard stories. If not, the long and the short of it is that she wasn't very good at being a friend. She said some crummy things after my miscarriage and then failed to show any excitement when I got pregnant again, to which I took offense. These being the latest acts in years of unsupportive behavior, I'd had enough. We haven't really talked since. No blow-out, no fight, we just kind of fell out of touch. That's the dignified and adult way to un-friend someone!
I saw her at a mutual friend's baby shower, no problems. We were very civil and very friendly to each other. I don't talk about her with our mutual friend. It was all very mature. However, I JUST noticed that she removed me as a friend on facebook. It must have been within the past couple of months because I didn't notice it until very recently.
That just seems silly to me. Why bother?
Saturday, June 27, 2009
A day late...
And my guess is that this post will come up more than a dollar short. After a quiet month, some sort of chatter is needed to revive the conversation.
I feel like transition is all around me these days, yet, it's my path that seems to most certain.
It's strange, for years, I was the one moving every summer, looking for and then starting a new job, and exploring a new town. Every year, it was revival - everything new. Yet, this year, I am the one in stasis. One friend is launching a new business, another has just given official notice and plans to start law school in the fall, while another has an eye-turned to the market and considering making a move. In another city on the East coast, two of my friends are simultaneously awaiting their own big changes - one is sitting for her nursing exams on the brink of launching a new career while another awaits the birth of her first child (a son, due anytime now). P and I just learned that two of our friends are ending their relationship. My sister is looking for a condo and my parents are planning to sell their house, downsize their monthly bills, and take up residence in my grandmother's home (she moved to a nursing home over two years ago). I don't have plans to visit the East Coast until next December, but it's odd to think how different it all could be.
At work, my building is over pretty intense construction - walls are coming down, sprinklers are going in the ceiling, doors are barricaded by rubble, and you have to watch your step with all the nails and wires all about. It's noisy and dusty and it's given the summer a distinctly chaotic and distracted feel. After eight hours of drilling the other day, I insisted on a junk food dinner and several hours of lounging on the couch before bed - I was wiped out. The great irony is that the construction should wrap up in August, the completion date coinciding with my vacation.
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