Nigeria Q & A

"Do they have technology?"

"How do they view homosexuality?"

"What exactly is "female circumcision"?

These were the burning questions my students had for the special guest speaker who visited two of my classes earlier this week.

My dear friend - who happens to be Nigerian and a member of the same tribe highlighted in African novelist Chinua Achebe's book Things Fall Apart - generously agreed to work the visit into her hectic schedule. Since the majority of my students are reluctant readers, I thought that hearing first hand what it is to be Ibo and Nigerian would help draw them into the novel (as if Things Fall Apart couldn't do that on it's own, but the novel does lack a critical component practically required by many of the readers in my classes - and I quote - "lasers shooting out of heads, killing people").

I wish I were joking about that...

My students were immediately enraptured by my friend, "Chikosi." Who wouldn't be? Chi is beautiful inside and out, and her voice is strong and smooth and melodic. She sat tall on the stool at the front of my classroom, all smiles, and was crowned in tightly plated hair - a river of braids - tiny ropes - that fell to her lower back and were neatly secured between her shoulders in a bundle. She was dressed all in black, a combination of sheer and silky, leather and pleather - head to stiletto heeled boots - looking more like a fashion model than a lawyer/wife/mother of three. My students were mesmerized by every syllable from "hello".

More than that, she was smart and articulate and sincere; every question was answered honestly, completely. I learned so much about Nigerian culture that day - more than I've learned over the past few months in my study and research in order to prepare for teaching this novel.

Although, I confess, I was afraid to have her visit because my students have the potential to be kind of...naughty...and chatty...and disrespectful. Typical teens, you know.

But they were good! And they listened! And they were polite and asked questions!

Okay, they really did ask about circumcision, but Chi answered succinctly without hesitation.

Chi was great! And now my students know a little bit more about what Nigeria (a country) and Africa (a continent) really is, and they have encountered the reality of who an African woman is today.

Plus there was that brief, yet insightful, biology lesson...

"No Line on the Horizon"

Looks like I will be staying up late for the next week. U2's new album will be released on March, 3 in the United States, so in honor of the release, U2 is performing on Letterman every night this week!

Yeah, we don't HAVE TIVO.

Poetroad is seriously considering driving around tonight to see if he can buy the album at midnight. Right, he does know about this new crazy technology called "MP3s" that are downloadable right to his computer. But he wants to HOLD the disc in his hands. And perhaps hear the rush of gossamer wings and angelic voices singing "LAAAAAAAAAA" as he unwraps the jewel case.

UTI, TMI

When I woke up this morning, I knew immediately that I was ill. And in pain. And that this illness would require a doctor visit and antibiotics. Not a big deal - just a little urinary tract infection (which I realize will be TMI for some readers here, but I promise that there is a point in me telling you all this little detail...).

Someone in line casually asked me if my illness was going around.

"No." "As far as I know, urinary tract infections are not contagious," I wanted to add.

To be fair, I'm sure that person meant no ill will (most likely...). Nevertheless, the inquiry began a brief and awkward discussion of me telling the truth yet allowing the other person to believe something completely different.

Feeling embarrassed, I disengaged from the conversation as quickly as I could and instead became engrossed with hair driers - as if I were carefully studying each particular model with the scrutiny a scientist might study a Petri dish for positive signs of bacteria growth.

Eventually, I picked up my prescription and got the heck out of there.

Next time I find myself in that situation, I will be better prepared with my response. Here is the list so far of possible "reasons" [all fake, I assure you] for my future pharmacy visits:

1. Gonorrhea flare up.
2. Picking up husband's Viagra prescription.
3. Picking up MY Viagra prescription.
4. Bleeding hemorrhoids.
5. Picking up my methadone because, you know, I'm trying to shake that dirty heroin habit.

Ah, Pierre, you shouldn't have...

No, really. No one wants to see a 70 year old man fold in half and touch his nose to his knees (and, he let me know, that he could have contorted himself more fantastically right there in front of the "Grind" coffee shop, but he wasn't wearing the right clothes to get the job done).

While I didn't hit the trails yesterday, I did wake up early and run around suburbia in order to get in my daily run. In the last leg of the run, I took an extended break at the Grind - the local coffee dive - and met with my "girz" for our once a month chat 'n pray.

Afterward, I took a few minutes to stretch before running the last two miles of my run. That is when I met Pierre. He looked like this younger version of Jack Lalanne. (When I say young, I mean the "70 years young" look.)

Speaking in a lovely accent, French I suppose, Pierre told me that he was an accomplished yogi. When he was younger and living in Monterrey, he sudied two and three times a week from an infamous yogi.

"Oh, so can you wrap your leg behind your head?"

"No, not in these clothes. But if I had on the proper attire..."

I was a little disappointed that I wouldn't get to see the entire show, but that thought dissolved as Pierre pulled in close.

"I am a psychologist. Where do you live?"

"I live in this area - a few miles from here."

Pierre came in closer. He paused to read the caption on my sweatshirt. I explained it was from a church camp.

"Church, too? Well, you are the compete package, then. You and I would have been perfect together. A perfect match."

As we chatted about this and that, I tried not to be distracted by the neatly trimmed forest of ear and nose hair that encroached proper ear and nose boundaries.

"And no children, I suppose?"

"Actually, I have four daughters."

"Well, then, that is something else we have in common! I also have four daughters. The youngest, she is 23 and a UC Davis graduate."

"Wow! That's wonderful. You must be very proud. Do your daughters live close?"

"Ah..."

His pause was pregnant with regret. I wondered about his past - a life lived half a century ago - that included yogi study and psychology and the Monterrey coast.

"Well, my children do not live close. My children, they are divorced, I am very sad to say, and living here and there. But who am I to judge as I also am divorced. You understand, as I assume you are also divorced."

"But I'm not divorced. I'm married; I just don't wear my ring when I am running because my hands swell when I run."

"You tease a man, so, and give him false hopes! You are married!"

We laughed uncomfortably.

"I'll let you run home now. And I promise I will not run after you."

I didn't look back to see if he was following me.

And that's the news from the American River Canyon...

Apparently, between work and running and cooking dinner and NOT cleaning my house, I've lost time to be creative. Speaking of creative, you have to drop on over to Faith's blog, "Stones from my Heart" to check out some very cool collages. I left her blog thinking, "I wanna do that!" If I ever figure out the "how," Faith, I'm dedicating my first one to you and your lovely blog.

Ooops...I got lost for a second there...reading poetry at Keeping Secrets again. :)

Back to the post. Since I have no time to be creative, I'll talk about running. Three more weeks to race day, and I'm still wondering how Irongirl talked me into tackling this run. If she tells you it was the other way around, don't believe her.

Here's the low down on the race: 50K, American River Canyon, rugged trail run, popular trail race with many expert runners competing (not against me, mind you...I'll be competing for "last runner") - REAL ultra-runners competing and not "wannabe" runners like me who hardly know how to run correctly let alone run correctly for 30+ miles, March 14.

That being said, in light of my defeatist attitude, it might not surprise you to know that yesterday was a difficult training day for me mentally and physically.

Here's the low down on the run: didn't feel confident from the beginning of the run, wanted to cry on the first ascent at mile four, started feeling very ill by mile ten due to the sudafed/caffine-laced-energy-jelly-beans/two-cups-o-coffee cocktail surging through my body, walked some, wanted to quit several times (but what was I going to do seven miles deep into the wilderness - we all know that walking would take longer than running back to the car), stopped at the port-o-potty at mile 13 (yeah, I know. too much information. get over it. it's my blog. remind me later...i have a poop story to tell you all), and we still ran that 15+ miles faster than we did the week before.

Wow. That was THE most mentally challenging run that I've ever...run. Irongirl calls these types of runs "mental training days." She ain't kidding.

And yet, it was beautiful up there in the canyon.

rugged mind numbing ascent.
you seem unfazed, which is
maddening. I trudge along,
regardless, imitating
your form; full foot, heel to toe,
and I walk 'til i reach the
mossy covered tree seven
paces up then run to the
next; run and walk and run from
tree to tree to rock to tree
and slog through stream and muddy
muck and slip and slide and run
to the top, to the top. Where
is the top? Winding, descent,
ascent, descent; steadily
climbing but not completely
aware under canopy
of evergreens and live oak,
brushing fern and moss and rock
and ruddy salamanders.
Then I break through at the top
and wonder how far I've come
and how much longer it would
be until I turn around
and head down hill, away from
the light, to be enveloped
by the inviting darkness
once more.

In the last few moments of Valentines Day...

...let me say Happy Valentines Day to you all!

Poetroad gave me one of the best Valentines gifts ever - new trail running shoes and the opportunity to spend part of my day running with irongirl up in the American River Canyon. We ran 15.5 miles (I swear, I think for 10 of those miles we were running up hill - how is that possible?). It was brutal. It was beautiful. My legs hurt.

For Poetroad's gift, I sent him away (okay, I didn't really "send" him...he just drove downtown) to see the Prologue of the Amgen Tour of California. Today Poetroad saw some of the top cyclists in the world, including Austinite Lance Armstrong (photo 1) and newly off drug suspension rider Tyler Hamilton (photo 2). Later when we watched national coverage of the event together, I saw Poetroad there - on TV - in the front of the crowd snapping this photo of Mr. Hamilton. Very cool.

Phew. Made it through another week....

and only once did I hear, "This class is boring...because..." (cue drum roll...) "We are always doing stuff in here."

Hmm. What the heck are you doing in all of your other classes!?

You know you are a successful teacher when you've been accused of "doing stuff" in your class.

Check out what Karen said...

I loved what Karen said so much over at Keeping Secrets that I had to share part of the post here:

"Of course, I believe that all writing is autobiographical in many ways. It shows the deepest heart of the writer, revealing parts that are not apparent to the rest of the world. Writing reveals, and poetry may distill the essence of the person most of all. Yet, as much as it reveals, it also allows one to become someone else, and therein is the rub for those who know the writer. Which person is authoring the piece? Is it the one who is opening her heart for all to see, exposing her truest self, or is it the one who is creating a new reality that has little to do with the author herself but provides a wonderous landscape in which she may wander? Maybe the answer is both."

Yes. She gets it. But I wouldn't expect anything less from a poet. :)

Sometimes I'm afraid to share what I write or think here because I know that some readers - readers that I care about dearly - will make false assumptions or judge me harshly. No one wants to be judged. Other creative types, however, such as Karen, get it. We want to go there. We want to linger in someone else's thoughts, moods - someone else's landscape - for whatever reason. Perhaps we find a commonality, which is comforting to say the least, but more than anything we are intrigued by someone who thinks or acts or believes differently. It's a bit like what I imagine an actor might do in order to prepare for a role...step into someone's shoes and walk around awhile.

Thanks, Karen, for making that post even though your secrets aren't so secret anymore.

A poem i'm working on

Not sure what to call it yet...


glassy eyed we wander
through endless isles of solitude
greeting cards, post its, lamps
nothing in the cart but randomness
through veiled despair
we linger at the precipice
of the 1000 count sheet set that we pretend to admire

"Ginger Ale reminds me of my days in the Boy Scouts."

Really? How?

"Well, we had our pack meetings at the American Legion Hall. We had to walk through the bar to get to the meeting room. They always had cases and cases of Ginger Ale there. We took some every time."

You stole Ginger Ale from the bar?!

"Yeah, we were the renegades."

Renegades? Funny how things haven't changed much.

Mile 17

I'd like to stop now.

And then?

That would be it, then, I guess.

How would you get back?

The same way I came.

But how?

Walk, I suppose.

Yes, you could walk.

That would take too long.

Yes it would.

What are my other options?

Keep going, I suppose.

I knew you would say that.

What did you want me to say?

Nothing.

I see that you aren't walking.

Like I said, that would take too long.

Right.

Ok...maybe this will only be exciting to me,

but I just found out on Friday that I PASSED *ALL* THREE OF THE CTEL TESTS!!!!

For those of you not in ear shot when I was whining and moaning about having to take these tests back in December, listen to my tale of woe...

Actually, it all started back in August when I was hired to teach at the local high school. California is all desperate to hire teachers, etc., etc., I thought it would be a cinch to transfer my current credentials (you pick a state, I thought, ,I'm licensed to teach in three states). Not that simple, I learned. Besides having to fill out all of the forms, submit the finger prints (twice), pledge my faith to California with the promise of a blood sacrifice (okay, not really, but it *felt* like that's what they wanted), I ALSO had to take a few hundred tests (okay, four tests). So I put down my first three hundred dollars (not an exaggeration) and made an oath to attempt to pass the holy trinity of the California Teacher of English Learners tests. This battery of tests is only offered twice a year, and while one does not have to take all three tests on the same day, there is an awful long wait-time in between test opportunities. I wanted to just get the whole thing over with. Of course I signed up to take all three that fateful December day.

I mean, I had a whole 6 weeks to study from the time I dished out the cash. SIX WEEKS! AAAAAAHHHH!

After I saw the content of the tests, I thought, "Who am I kidding. This is crazy."

But I pressed on. And I called Maria (PJDs wife) and asked her to graciously loan me a few of her textbooks. Which she did. And then I left them there. And then Peter and Maria graciously brought them somewhere where I could meet them and get the books. Where I got lost. But then they found me, and all was good.

To make a ridiculously long story shorter, I got lost on the way to the testing center on the day of the tests. Then I found a throng of other dazed and confused late lost people and found my way to the testing center. On the way in, the guy I was walking with assured me, "I've taken these tests three times already and they never start on time." Great. That sure boosted my morale.

To make matters better, I sat by another ENGLISH teacher who was on her second try. She only passed one test the first time around. And, she said, the only reason why she passed that test was because she took quite a few linguistics classes in her undergrad work - practically minored in linguistics. Great. More morale boosting.

Then the guy next to me kept letting out a heavy sigh every five minutes during the test. This went on for the first three hours. And continued after the break and went on for the *next* three hours. A girl can only take so much out-of-normal-context heavy sighing. I wanted to kick him.

Afterward, I was quite sure I didn't pass any of the tests. There were a few answers I didn't know, and the essay questions were not easy (oh, yeah - didn't I mention that I had to write *four* full length essays in addition to taking three 90 + multiple question tests????????). Even the best BSer would have had trouble getting around the fact that they were looking for specific terminology to be used competently. For example, one question might read, "name the sociocultural and sociopolitical factors that affect a language learner's development and, in light of that, describe specific instructional strategies for an intermediate language learner currently enrolled in a sheltered bilingual program so that these factors do not hinder language acquisition." *Easy* stuff like that.

I was doomed. There was no way. I decided to just forget about the whole thing and gear up for the next round. And then I got an e-mail on Friday...saying, in bold letters beneath each test, "PASS."

I had to go to the web page and confirm those preliminary scores. Couldn't believe it! Of course only the typed document is official (wouldn't that really *bite* if there was a mistake!).

Anyway, I'll let you know in a few days if it is official or if this has been just another delusion from my feverish nights from last week.

Feeling Good

Not everything about last week was straight from the pit of hell. I was able to catch up on my blog reading, for instance. :) I might even go for a jog today (last week ruined my training schedule!).

Again, thanks for the well wishes! I will be posting more soon as I have some fantastic news to share! (well, it is fantastic to me anyway...)

Sick and tired

This week, I had the pleasure of contracting the flu. Up until a few hours ago, I was thinking that, perhaps, death might be the merciful option. Being run over by a truck might have felt more pleasurable.

My toe muscles hurt. The backs of my eyeballs hurt. My teeth hurt. Anything on my body that could possibly feel pain *hurt*. And the sweat. A 500 lb fry cook manning the grill during the dinner rush at the local Grease Shack Trucker Grill might sweat more, but barely. I changed my clothes three times today.

Fortunately, the fever has ended! And as long as I keep my talking to the minimum, the extreme coughing fits are bearable.

I might even attempt to go to work tomorrow.

Fabulous

"Fabulous" is my four year old daughter's favorite word.

"Do I look fabulous, Mom?"

"This outfit is fabulous!"

"This cheese sandwich is fabulous!"

"You are a fabulous mommy."

"My sisters are fabulous!"

Of course her other favorite word is "poop." Go figure.

Hop on over to "The Clarity of Night"...

...and check out the talent in Jason Evan's latest short fiction contest entitled "Ascension." Look for my entry entitled "Karma." (Yay, Aerin, I met fiction writing goal for the month!)

Happy reading!

What might that scent be????

So I was checking out my favorite cheapskate shopping site - craigslist - and came across an advertisement for "Lotion, candles..." etc., etc., and "Biblical Oils." [No, I wasn't shopping for lotions or oils. And if I were, I would hardly buy them from a freelance lotion dealer. Well, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't.]

Of course curiosity got the best of me, so I clicked on the link to find out what kind of "Biblical Oils" someone might be selling right here in Sacramento. I was thinking "special anointing oils" - you know, the kind of holy anointing oil that is blessed and used for healing or an Exorcism or something such as that.

Turns out that these oils are not those kind of oils, but they do come from Israel in a range of "biblical scents."

"John the Baptist Musk"? "Essence of Shepherd"? "Eau de Trinity"?

Apparently, I there is more room for crazy here...

You are right. I don't need to commit to one more thing in my life. (Did I mention that I am currently training with my good friend and trail running partner Telle to run a 50K in March?) That being said, I have been avoiding this commitment - the commitment of "writing to be read" - for quite awhile... No time like the present, eh? Here is the challenge:
Aerin at In Search of Giants is hosting a writer’s challenge to foster inspiration and community. It's pretty low-pressure: 1000 words a month. At the end of the year, you'll have a total of 12,000 words, which is not even half a NaNo entry. Go here to sign up!

BONUS: If you sign up for this challenge by January 14, your entry to the Ascension Clarity of Night contest counts as all 1000 of your words for January!



Thanks, Aerin, for laying down the challenge! Now go sign up, people.

"To sleep..."

"...perchance to dream..."

Hamlet III, i

Never mind the dreams. I would just settle for some "sleep." Since Poetroad has been gone, I have not been sleeping well. Maybe 3 hours a night? And then I lay awake until the sun begins to rise and eventually fall asleep for a few more hours...if I'm lucky. Totally sucks.

Fun with dirt and other readings

The best part of vacation is that I have a chance to do stuff that I usually don't because, let's face it, I'm not organized or disciplined enough to schedule these activities into my life. Unfortunately, the stuff that gets pushed into the margins and avoided are activities I really enjoy doing...such as *reading* a book. Not so this vacation.

So far, I went running in the mud, up and down hills, in a storm, and around the track, I went for a walk on the beach, and I read five books in the past two weeks. Of course one book that I read was for work (Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe - and I will share my thoughts on this book eventually, but I have much more to think about before I attempt to share those thoughts). The other four books I read, however, were for the sheer pleasure of being transported into another world.

You might have heard of the Twilight Saga - a four novel series by Stephenie Meyer of which book one was recently made into a movie. Honestly, I originally decided to read the first novel of the series since this is a popular novel with my students, and I wanted to know what all the fuss was. So although the story is marketed for teenagers, once I began reading, I was hooked; the teen audience intent didn't matter.

In book one, Twilight, Meyer introduces readers to the life of teenager Bella Swan who moves from Arizona where she lived with her mother to Forks, Washington in order to live with her dad for awhile. In Forks, Bella meets and falls in love with her soul mate, Edward. Of course her destiny with Edward is complicated by the fact that her true love might not actually have a soul since he is a vampire.

Love, vampires, battles, part myth and part mysticism, and the Northwest. I was totally sucked into the story from page one.

Surprisingly, what drew me to the story more than anything else was the setting. There is something undeniably mystical and magical about the coastal region in the Northwest. Although this story takes place in the Olympic Peninsula, the rugged beauty of the land, the dense, mossy forests, the typically overcast days, and the rain could easily describe more than half of the Oregon and Washington coastal region. My mom was born in Newport, Oregon, and most of her family still lives there now. Needless to say, throughout my childhood the Oregon coast was practically my second home - it's still one of my favorite places to visit.

Don't get me wrong - I know I could not live there again. But I have to admit that my soul sometimes aches to clear a path through the mossy forests and dense underbrush again. Maybe that's why I've taken to trail running this past year. I yearn to be there. And in particular, I feel that yearning more strongly when I travel from Corvallis to Newport. It's as if I'm entranced...or possessed...by an intense longing that I consciously know can never be requited. My creative side wants to be there. My logical side (do I have that side?) knows that living there would kill me. Literally.

Besides the setting, I was also intrigued by the plot of the novel on several levels. You should know that I am not a fan of romance novels or love stories. Still, the second draw to the novel was the love story. Sappy. Ridiculous. Close to home. I was 18 when I met Poetroad. I knew within a week that he was "the one." He knew it too. In Twilight, Bella is merely 17 when she meets Edward. From the beginning, she knows they belong together - for better or worse. I understood that. Of course their relationship is complicated - there is the whole human vs. vampire thing, for one. But I liked the symbolism (unintentionally written in?) of the type of struggles all couples face.

There is more to love about this series - realistic characters, intricate but believable plot, treachery, scary stuff, sad endings, happy endings. I won't spoil it for you any more than I have, though. You should know that these novels are more of a fun read than literary genius. Most of the complaints I've heard regarded repetitive language and metaphors. And even though one of the main characters is a vampire, there is a moral quality that constrains the plot. For example, when some of the characters finally do get around to it, the sex scenes are hinted at rather than described. Which is one other reason why I *liked* the series. It's a good novel to read *with* your teenager.