igloo? ice cream?

this is why i love halloween. not the weirdo dog picture. i'm standing in like at joann fabrics tonight with my to-be-cut ribbon when a 7-year-old and her grandma get in line behind me. the girl is in solid native american attire, braids, moccasins, beading... an exceptional costume. she's looking me and my ribbon up and down, trying to figure out what exactly i could be doing with it. i start unravveling the material to get it ready for cutting, when i realize that there is a long piece already cut. i look at her and the bantering starts...
me: "did you cut my ribbon?"
girl: "no."
me: "are you sure?"
girl: "yes."

i then wrap the ribbon around myself a few times to make sure it's long enough.
girl: "you probably need to cut that."
me: "actually, i need it to be long enough to wrap around me a few times so i think it's ok."
girl: "what's your costume?"
me: "i'm going to be rough endoplasmic reticulum."
girl: *silence*
me: "do you know what that is?"
girl: "no."
me: "it's in your cells. are you in costume?"
girl: "yes."
me: "oh.. you're a dinosaur, right?"
girl: "no."
me: "a unicorn?"
girl: "no."
me: "a robot?"
girl: "no... it starts with an i and is a person."
me: "...... an ice cream cone?"
girl: "is an ice cream cone a person?"
me: "no... you're right. an inuit?"
girl: "what?"
me: "an igloo?"
girl: "no!"
me: "an indian?"
girl: "yes!"
me: "john smith?"
girl: "no... pocahontas."

i also found out pocahontas can't eat gluten, so halloween is the worst holiday ever for grandma. she spends most of the time telling her what she can't eat. pocahontas was also discussing her summer plans, which include buying a horse and a dog. i didn't have time to get into my childhood dream of being kidnapped by an indian brave who would take me to his awesome tribe camp and we would make great smart white lady/hot indian brave babies.

happy halloween.

tropomyosin... my my my

i'll use pretty much any analogy to make a concept i'm teaching stick. so today i was introducing my anatomy and physiology students to the mechanism underlying muscle contraction, namely, the binding of myosin to actin and subsequent movement of those funky little fibers past each other. SO.. in order for myosin to bind to actin, these little pesky proteins called tropomyosins need to be moved off the actin. and how did i describe the function of tropomyosins? i believe it went something like this... "tropomyosin prevents myosin from binding to actin when the muscle is at rest. it's kind of like the cock block of muscular contraction."

and did i mention two weeks ago when i was going through the answers of a test and said "number 1- d... as in dog. number 2-b... as in basket. number 3-c... as in cocksucker." it had been a rough day. unfortunately my students kept talking about how funny that was during my observation by my boss. but guess who's teaching not one, but two, classes there next semester? boo-yah.

:)

so i usually use this blog as a space for me to pass on humorous anecdotes, amusing observations, and occasionally racists antics to friends and family. i recently received an email from a friend asking "what was up with my blog? why no writing as of late? you're a funny writer." that struck me. i haven't been blogging, and it's something that i started to do to remind myself of the lovely events that pepper my life. it's not that super outrageous things happen to me on a daily basis; it's just that i try to be very aware of what's going on around me and i happen to find lots of things incredibly comical. lately that's been harder for me to do. that is, it's been more difficult for me to see the fantastic, wonderful, interesting things that enter and exit my life. as many of you know, the last few months have been extremely hard for me; i lost my best friend and partner when our relationship fell apart, i moved to a different part of the country where the average age of folks is 65, and i'm working several jobs that are culturally and intellectually stifling. the pain of the dissolution, lack of local support network, and frustration with my surroundings has been often times unbearable, and although i've tried my best to deal with it all of it as best i can, hurt like that is not something that i am able to intellectualize away. it comes out. comes out when i'm making breakfast, when i'm lighting a bunsen burner, when i'm falling asleep at night. i think i'm starting to realize that this heartache is not something that i can expect to just disappear; it's going to be something that is a part of me for some time, but that doesn't necessarily mean that it has to govern how i function. there are wonderful people in my life, there are hilarious situations happening all the time, there are reasons to be smile and be grateful. and just because you're grateful doesn't mean you're ignoring or stifling the pain. it means you're looking beyond that immediate hurt and letting yourself feel good again. so that's what i'm doing. the blog is back.

so with that, today i listened to a student say to his friend, ""i mean, could you imagine a reeces the size of a car tire? do you know how good that would be?" he's a senior.

breaking point... reaching... reaching... and hit

much like the moon blasting of last week, my breaking point has been reached. in case my faithful readers have forgotten, i am teaching at one high school (see racists below) and two colleges. one of these colleges has proven to be an incredibly frustrating one to teach at. i've not taught college before, but i'm assuming that the students registered at such an institution are coming with a certain set of knowledge-based and practical skills. i remember college. i remember my first year of college. i remember you had to get your stuff together pretty quickly and adjust your study habits to the requirements of the class. so when i have to use the same lectures i used with my 8th grade students last year for my college students, something's going wrong. when i can lecture for 100 minutes straight and not ONE STUDENT asks a question, something's messed up. when i pose a question to a class, the same question i asked middle school students, and not one person says anything, perhaps our definition of college-able student needs to be reevaluated. it's not the lack of knowledge that really kills me, it's the apathy. it's unbelievable. and today was it. i was done.

the question i posed: "why might genetic diversity be a good thing?" i'm looking for anything. anything at all. doesn't have to be right... just ideas. .... 10 seconds..... 20 seconds...... 30 seconds. nothing. not a peep. i decided to call their bluff. another 10 seconds..... still nothing. i'm so mad. i then say "seriously? my eighth graders would come up with something. anything." a girl in the front row says "what was the question?" and then the girl behind her blows a huge bubble and pops it. TO HELL WITH ALL OF YOU. i will not be sad to not be teaching at that school next semester.

any doubt racism still is a problem?

My motivation for remaining a part of the Vermont teaching community is at an all-time low. And for good reason. I received a message this past Friday from the Catholic high school I work at saying there was going to be a meeting for football players, their parents, and faculty. I had no idea what was going on and called the school office. The story: every Friday afternoon, after football practice, the football players gather for what is called "Church chat." They stand in front of the big church across the street from our school and get all pumped up by yelling things. Some of the things they yell (and my stomach is churning right now thinking about typing them) are "Kill *the n-word,* kill f-ggts, kill jews." No, I am not making this up, and no, you have not been transported back to 1950. A few of the football players who knew that this was INSANELY MESSED UP reported this to the administration and faculty and the team was made to forfeit the game on Saturday, do a community service project, and issue a public apology. The meeting on Friday night was to talk about all of this. I CANNOT in any way describe the insanity I witnessed at the meeting. Parents screaming about how great their kids are, who is it that's offended by this?", the punishment is way too severe, the principal (who is amazing and was called an asshole by one of the parents as they walked in the building) is unfairly punishing their children, etc. I was sitting in the back (having had one glass of wine before the meeting) absolutely stunned, shocked, and pissed. I raised my hand and delivered a soft-spoken, intelligent little speech on how important it is that we show the community that this behavior unacceptable, blah blah blah, and the people went NUTS on me. The football coach (who has a mullet, wore sweatpants, and no doubt lifts weights in his basement whilst looking at a poster of Cheryl Tiegs) gave some moronic response, staring at me the whole time, and at one point walking toward me like he was going to punch me. I asked the teacher sitting next to me whether I had just entered the Twillight Zone. BECAUSE I HAD. An hour and 1/2 of racist, in-bred justifcations for the football players followed, and the next time I spoke I was so pissed I started crying. I asked the players to repeat the words they had said but they refused, saying that was irrelevant. When I expressed how upsetting their behavior was, the response of one of the players was that that was my personal reaction, that that was my own thing to deal with. Yep.... it was my fault I was too sensitive. We had a teacher's meeting following the circus and so many people were crying, absolutely shocked by what they had just witnessed. It's one thing to be involved in a school where there's an issue of cultural insensitivity and the school community is willing to combat it, meet it head-on and deal with it. It's something completely different when you have a handfull of teachers (and a brave, amazing principal) who are fighting a battle against the establishment, trying eight hours a day to combat the racist, close-minded messages these kids are receiving at home. And I'm not 100% convinced that all of the teachers are on the same page.

So where I am with this now: still upset, go to bed thinking about it, wake up thinking about it. I know that the behavior of these kids and their parents is not at all a reflection of me and my convictions, but it's incredibly hard to think about working at an institution where a substantial number of folks think this way and are imparting their bigotry on their students. I've made the decision that unless something happens IMMEDIATELY, and by something I mean instituting sensitivity programs, weekly meetings on diversity awareness, etc., I am resigning in December. Unless those programs become part of the regular curriculum, nothing is going to change. And I'd much rather put my energy elsewhere. I already feel embarassed to tell people I work at the school, frightened that the idiocy these players have demonstarted is being assigned to all associated with the school. And did I mention this is a Catholic, Christian institution? Makes perfect sense.