Forgotten good things

This weekend, I survived my first earthquake. It was a little one. Yeah, I was a little Dan-dramatic when it happened (imagine that!). I am permanently scarred and freaked out to be leaving in a state that could break from the Union at any moment.

My excitement this weekend was finding Honeycrisp apples in Los Angles. (No, I am not a loser) They only had about 20 total in the Vons across the street from me and I resisted buying them all. Nancy (the cashier) and I had an extended conversation about how these are the best apples in the whole wide world. Better than Fugi, Gala, Braeburn, et al. You bite into them and they have the most heavenly crisp texture with a sweet flavor that is incredible. These only come around once a year. The people behind me in line were clearly annoyed.

I packed one of these beauties in my lunch today. I was day dreaming about it on my way to work today. I could smell it in the mid-morning when I opened up my bag to get a pen out. I took it out at about 10:30 to say "hello" to it. During my lunch break, I ended up at Costco buying the big bags of candy to bribe the kids with... It is an interestingly large place. I will leave it at that. So... I got a frozen yogurt at the food counter outside the Costco. Why???...I don't know. It was 2 pounds of ice cream for $1.35... uggh... it tasted awful, gave me a bad stomach ache, and I threw that bitch away. After that awful experience I was not hungry anymore. I went back to school and taught my last class of the day... On the way home, I smelled something delicious coming from my bag. And I found my little joy tucked in my bag and I enjoyed it quite a bit.

Bloody noses and silent tears

So in my quest to write a personal statement and philosophy of education for my graduate school applications, I have been thinking about what it means to be a teacher. I figured out this is my 6th year of teaching and I have taught the poor black kids of north Minneapolis who ride Metro Transit to school and the rich white kids of Manhattan Beach who get dropped off in Mercedes Benz's (by their nanny). So I have some varying experiences to reflect on. Being the genious that I am, I did not even know what the word "philosophy" means... Okay, I think: Plato... scary college classes... and some stupid paper I cranked out at 4am when I was 19. I am assuming, "a set of values and ideas about __________." (Thank you, dictionary.com) And filling in that blank with the word "education" creates a black hole in my mind. The kind that sucks all inspiration out till all you hear is slurping and you are wondering why the waiter has not been to your table yet. Is a philosophy of education the usual bitching about the administration, being 2 years behind on contract negotiations, or the fact that you have 45 kids in your class? Or is it a state of mind like, "I believe that all children can learn no matter their race, socioeconomic background, or ability level?" Or is it, I put up with the kids because I have the summer off?

In talking with my coworker Dawn after school we discovered there truely is a difference between the lofty philosophy of teaching and the daily reality. Venture into one of my 10 third grade strings classes for a moment. I am teaching in the cafeteria while the custodian is cleaning up after lunch and pushing the tables back into the walls (not a quiet sound, by the way). It smells like sloppy joes. I have 47 3rd graders (set up in four rows of about twelve) and they each have a small crisis. It's the beginning of the year and they really are not into the routine just yet: I can't put on my shoulder rest, my instrument is out of tune, I have to use the bathroom, my sister broke my string, I left my book in the classroom, I need to get a drink, my mom did not drop off my instrument, I can't find my instrument, etc, etc, etc... (at this point I will leave out about ten more etcs here). Oh wait, I forgot to mention, this is after I had to run from teaching another class in another room across the school campus. Spork in my eye!!!

Actually, miracles do happen... Okay, so the learning of the song involved one child quietly crying because the pushing down of the strings hurt his fingers, another child's nose bleeding all over his violin, and a few wafts of kid-fart smell passing by my nose. But with only 8 seconds left before class was over, we played it!! Go me.

That day I came home and took a long nap. The meaning of life can wait till later...

I am so annoyed with all of the honking and beeping and firetruck sirens going past my little apartment building that I want to scream! Yes, I know that I have been guilty of using the horn on a frequent basis... but I never lay into it for more than a nanosecond. Just a little reminder beeper. A little tap on the back. For some reason, the drivers at this particular corner where I reside seem to get a little more steamed than usual. There is no left turn arrow like most civilized cities install. Nope... L.A. is survival of the fittest if you are going to pull out into that intersection to make a left turn. I have heard of people going far out of their way to avoid making a left at all costs... (and there are some that have the mysterious power of getting around all of this sprawling mess of Smogville without EVER MAKING A LEFT!) Also, this intersection is devoid of all human life except for the KFC and a Jack in the Box that throw-up their steady flow of fat drivers coming through the drive thru. So maybe when these ticked off people lay into their horns, they don't feel like they are disturbing anyone except for dead chickens and a few ugly weeds.

Speaking of dead chickens, I was thinking the other day as I pressed garlic and chopped onion, looking out my window at the KFC, that people my age really don't cook all that often. I think that one month I spent almost $450 on going out to eat. I actually had someone tell me that going to Chipotle was cheaper than going grocery shopping because you only have to eat one burrito a day which only costs $4.95. Hmmm, not "mmmmm". I am not saying that people in their late 20's NEVER cook or don't know HOW to cook. But it is clear that we are lazy.

And I guess if we are not taking out or dining in, we clearly prefer Easy Mac or frozen pizza. Pull the plastic off, remove from cardboard, and throw it in the oven; or poke holes in the plastic, lift the flap, and throw it in the microwave. I used to live with a guy that ate pizza every night. Well, maybe he went to McDonald's a few days out of the week.

Actually, I figured out that I can cook a really mean meal in about 25 minutes (a FIRM rule) for about $5-7 for about 4 people. Of course it takes a bit of investing in stuff like garlic, olive oil, and other kitchen staples. And you have to plan in advance... so here is a really really good recipe if you like Indian food. It's called Chana Saag Aloo and it is creamy heaven (serve it with rice):
2 tbsp olive oil
2 potatoes, cut into 1 inch cubes
1 onion, diced
4 cloves garlic
*Sautee the above for about 10 minutes or so then add:
2 tbsp curry powder
1/8 tsp cayenne pepper (more for spicy)
1 tsp salt and pepper
*Stir and let the spices cook for about 2 minutes then add:
1 can of coconut milk
1 can of garbonzo beans
1 tomato chopped
*Simmer for about 10 minutes on med. high (cover to make it cook faster), then add:
Half a bag of frozen chopped spinach
More salt if desired
*Cook for about 2 minutes

When I eat this I make love to it. It's better than chemical laced food or take out.