Friday, February 1, 2013

it's black history month!

“There is no reason for you to try to become like white people and there is no basis whatever for their impertinent assumption that they must accept you. The really terrible thing, old buddy, is that you must accept them. And I mean that very seriously. You must accept them and accept them with love.” 

This is one of my favorite quotes from James' Baldwin's The Fire Next Time. I'd post it to my Facebook wall, but you know how people on Facebook stay tripping because they're lazy readers and thinkers.

Happy Black History Month! 

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

I'm donating bone marrow tomorrow morning, and I'm terrified.

Sunday, January 27, 2013

stupid boat

We're watching some stupid Travel Channel show about boats while I lesson plan for tomorrow (first day of the new semester with new students, hooray!). All of a sudden, Nick says, "That stupid boat's kitchen is better than ours. ...Fuck that boat."

I look up, and it totally is. So... like he said, I guess. Yeah.

Back to plotting on how to make twelve year old boys think my class is all about violence and war. Boom! Crash!

Saturday, January 26, 2013

hating the help

I wish I had something more profound or thoughtful to say about it, but today, I was forced to take help from my folks. There's only one thing I hate more in the world than admitting that I need it, and that would be accepting it when it's unsolicited.

Nothing makes you feel quite so much like a big, fat failure at life as when you're busting your ass, working a job that makes you miserable - a job that pays you more than you've ever made in your life - budgeting and cutting corners, but you still can't make ends meet because the world just keeps knocking you down. And I know, I know - I'm grateful to just be broke and not poor, but man. I need a break. I need a few breaks. Then today I got one, and it feels terrible.

I know how unbelievably lucky I am to have a family who is able to help, who is willing and happy to help us out. But then the part that's worse than having your dad offer you exactly what you need to get back on your feet, without your even asking? Refusing it (I should be able to do this myself), and being forced to take it anyway, then feeling like the lowest piece of shit ever for seeming like an ingrate.

It's a bitter pill to swallow, being the helpee instead of the helper. I hate it.

Saturday, January 19, 2013

so I'm running a half-marathon...

I just realized that - in addition to not blogging nearly as much as I'd like - I've been leaving a pretty huge part of my life out in my posts. I kind of hinted at it in my New Year's resolutions, but haven't explicitly written about it here.

I'm training for a half-marathon. The Rock and Roll Half on March 16, to be precise. I'm doing this with my mom to help raise money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Mom's best friend is four years leukemia free, and considering she's been like an aunt to me - she's my baby sister's godmother, too - raising money for an organization that's done so much for her is a no-brainer to me.

So we go out in the cold Tuesdays and Thursdays after work to run. We have long runs on Saturday morning; I'll assume these were scheduled by Satan, since they start at 8am. Short recovery runs are Sundays. For our long run today, we went eight miles. Pretty exciting stuff for someone who never made it through a high school cross country race - a poor choice I endured for one single season my sophomore year - without stopping.

The best part? I live in DC so all of our runs are BEAUTIFUL!
I've only lost about five pounds since we started December 1, but I just keep losing inches. So many inches. I'm back in pants I haven't fit since my first teaching stint in 2007, and appear on track to squeeze into a few favorite pairs of jeans I've kept from college. My standing heart rate is 56 beats per minute, doctors say I'm in excellent health, and I love that now I do something after work that doesn't involve wine or midnight bacon and eggs. Oh, and I'm doing a pretty good job raising money for cancer. Halfway to my fundraising goal with two months left to go!

If you read this blog, we're probably friends on Facebook, so you've probably already seen my posts asking for donations, if you can spare them. But just in case you've popped in from somewhere else, consider giving a few dollars to help LLS continue its research and support programs for patients with blood cancers. My page (with running updates) can be found over here.

Sunday, January 13, 2013

I need a new dumpling



I just saw a banking commercial where a man said that he's a tenth-generation dumpling maker, and that his work is his life's passion. Of course, this was followed by the bank's exhortation to avoid doing the things that you don't want to do, so that your job remains your passion and never becomes work. Or something like that. Basically, make dumplings and let us handle your money since everyone knows that Asian people are terrible at math.

Disclaimer: Not all Asian people are good at math. That doesn't mean that they're bad at math, or just average at math. It means that math skills have nothing to do with race. I made a joke about racial stereotypes in advertising, not about Asian people. Just to be clear, since inevitably someone will miss that subtle distinction (Some place, somewhere, Rachel's soul is screaming, "It's not funny if you have to explain it, Tierra, GAWD!" You shut up, Rachel's soul. I hate your stupid mouth).

But anyway. Moving along.

Because I am currently in a position where I find my work to be important, but surprisingly unfulfilling in a way that crushes my soul every hour on the hour, this commercial hit me like a ton of Hallmark cards. What tasks and conditions would I give up at work if I could? What would I delegate to someone else? What would I keep?

My immediate thought was that I want to keep writing and talking about history, but to dump the classroom environment. Let someone else have the phone calls home, the "Ms. Jolly, you wear whore-colored lipstick," the bureaucracy inherent in any public school system, and the feeling of being an academic waitress, constantly on my feet taking the orders - and dropping off the ketchup, and haggling over the checks, and calling in the manager to deal with the issues - of twenty different diners every shift.

I want to keep writing lesson plans, conducting research, presenting it to people, and contributing to the educational development of children in under-served communities. I don't want to be in a classroom every day, no matter how old the students are (here's lookin' at you, college). I do want most of my professional time to be spent with other adults. I also desperately need a workplace environment where I can come in at 10 and stay until 6 on a Thursday because I had a doctor's appointment and it's totally cool that I sometimes get sick because I am a human being.

So what are the possible solutions? Public history looks like the best answer. I would love to write educational materials for museums and historic sites. Develop activities and exhibits. Represent the program/institution at conferences and networking events. Occasionally work with children. Have constantly changing research topics so that I'm always learning something new. I could be a museum educator, a curator, a director of education, an institutional historian, a curriculum writer for a school district, some kind of research analyst for some kind of non-profit, or one of those freelance historians who helps banks prove their new acquisition didn't own slaves in the 1700s. I could transition back into dramaturgy. I could even start my own part-time side gig as a genealogist.

All of these things sound like my dumplings. But how do I find these opportunities, and how do I get them onto my plate? Ideas and advice will be greatly appreciated.