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June 22, 2006
Teacher Man
In my spare time, I just finished reading Frank McCourt's new book Teacher Man. Following Angela's Ashes and 'Tis, it narrates his life as a high-school teacher in New York City, and his own aspirations to become a writer.
His terse narration is darkly humorous at some points--taking a group of rowdy inner-city adolescent girls to a performance of Hamlet--and incredibly poignant at others--the heart-breaking lives of those he calls the "lost children of the Lost Generation."
As I was reading, I realized that as he taught--and as I've taught--what you're fighting much of the time isn't ignorance, though that has to be fought as well, but apathy. The sensation of 50 eyes looking up at you, as you fight them to express an opinion, any opinion, to think, to interact, to care. Aptly, McCourt uses battlefield imagery to describe teaching.
What makes teaching worthwhile (and this book so powerful) are the moments when you can break through the apathy. His creative means of breaking through were wonderful--having the kids write excuse notes for Adam and Eve and Al Capone. Or having them read recipes as if they were poetry, and the musical accompaniment that the kids improvised for the recipe readings on the spot. Beautiful!
Those moments make teaching worthwhile. I had one of those moments accidentally. I said something to one of my classes, not realizing the lurid double entendre that could be overlaid onto my innocent words. The class erupted in laughter. It felt like ages before I could get the class under control again. But from then on--for the rest of the semester--I had their undivided attention. It was a magic class. And at the end of the semester, they all clapped for me, and I felt like I had made some kind of real difference in their lives.
I've been meditating on teaching over the last week. I saw one student from the class I TAed (not mine, but another TA's) out on a date at a restaurant last week. She was pals with one of my students, and these two cheerleaders would chatter-chitter-chatter through the large lectures. Mine would grade-gripe. Not just grade-grub, but grade-gripe. Urgh! I didn't introduce myself, I just sort of snickered to myself when I saw her, remembering the moments of frustration throughout the semester with those two girls.
Then this week, Tim and I went out to share a dessert at a local Cracker Barrel. And one of my lovely students turned out to be our waitress. She's working two jobs and taking two classes this summer. I'm always impressed by students who earn their own education She was usually quiet, but attentive and respectful in class. And she said that our music appreciation class was her favorite class she's taken at the university. Happy! And touched that she would share that! We left a big tip and a little napkin note, hoping that she succeeds in school and life.
And finally, an inspiring McCourt quote on writing to wind this up.
Every moment of your life, you're writing. Even in your dreams you're writing. When you walk the halls in this school you meet various people and you write furiously in your head. There's the principal. You have to make a decision, a greeting decision. Will you nod? Will you smile? Will you say, Good morning, Mr. Baumel? or will you simply say, Hi? You see someone you dislike. Furious writing in your head. Decision to be made. Turn your head away? Stare as you pass? Nod? Hiss a Hi? You see someone you like and you say, Hi, in a warm melting way, a Hi that conjures up splash of oars, soaring violins, eyes shining in the moonlight. There are so many ways of saying Hi. Hiss it, trill it, bark it, sing it, bellow it, laugh it, cough it. A simple stroll in the hallway calls for paragraphs, sentences in your head, decisions galore.
--Frank McCourt, Teacher Man
Posted by Tim and Jo at 8:46 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
June 20, 2006
Paris Chronicles 1
Well, we haven't had as much time for blogging lately, more on the reasons why later. But in a fit of nostalgia for our big Paris trip last summer, we've decided to share our adventures and misadventures in the city of lights. Believe it or not, this is the meticulously abridged version of our first day!
Paris Chronicles – Episode One
Bon jour,
It’s time to come strolling down the avenues of Paris with Tim and Joanna. If you’ve ever wanted to waltz down the Champs-Elysées parading your perfectly poofed poodle, if you’ve ever wanted to show off your diamonds and pearls at the Place Vendôme, if you’ve ever wanted to nibble on caviar at Maxim’s - read someone else’s travelogue, you fop! But! If you want to hear about grimacing Gothic gargoyles, cavernous claustrophobic catacombs, and boisterous bustling boulevards, you’ve come to the right place. Don’t worry, we were good. We didn’t paint a moustache on Mona, we didn’t ask Venus to give us a high five, and we didn’t bungee jump off the Eiffel Tower.
You may be wondering how well we did with the French language over there. Well, Joanna has a decent handle on vocabulary and sentence structure and Tim has a decent accent so between the two of us, we spoke perfect broken French. Like seasoned travelers, we focused on the most important question, the vital key to international communication, that Rosetta Stone of a phrase: “Ou est le w.c.?” – “Where is the water closet?” (bathroom) That’s really all you need to know. Once you’ve attained that level of linguistic prowess, the richness of the French language is opened to you.
The plane ride was uneventful and so was the train ride from Charles de Gaulle airport to Paris. We found our hotel on Boulevard Rochechouart in Montmartre and took a little nap to try to lessen jet lag (we flew overnight and got little sleep).
We were soon on our way exploring the streets of Montmartre. We started walking up the many many steps that lead to the Basilique du Sacré-Coeur. Every level we went up gave us a grander view of the expanse of Paris. The eye could not take it all in, nor could the camera. We watched some kids rolling down the hill in the grassy sections – what fun! We ventured inside Sacré-Coeur. All manner of statuary, intricately laid mosaic tile, stained glass, stone work, iron work met our gaze. The inside is cavernous. The outside of the church is made from a certain type of limestone that emits small amounts of calcite (calcium) when it rains. This whitens the stone and makes it essentially a self-cleaning church! Here's a picture of the church, as well as the carousel featured in Amelie
We wandered the streets up and down, criss-crossing. We came across a mime who took a liking to Joanna. She was so cute with him. His face was painted white and Joanna’s was painted pink!
Joanna got some ice cream at a little stand—she asked for coco, thinking it would be chocolate, in fact, it was coconut. Oh well—she still said it was good. We walked some more gawking at the magnificent iron-work on the outside of almost all the buildings. There is a wonderful continuity, a symmetry, an affinity between the buildings. Everything fits together so well and simply pleases the eye. You just want to stand there and stare at everything.
We were getting hungry, so our objective was to hunt down an epicerie or a tratteur to buy some picnic food for a picnic by the Eiffel Tower. After half and hour, we had a baguette, Prosciutto, tabouli salad, and Camembert cheese. Tim also got a Leffe Brown beer.
We found a cozy plot of grass under a tree near the south leg of the Eiffel Tower. What a wonder it is! More on that later when we go to the top! Our picnic was yummy – bread and cheese in Paris is raised to fine art and we were eating that art. There were many people on the Champs de Mars hanging out with Paris’s favorite toy – the Tower. That’s all it is – a big toy. But for people who take playing as seriously as the Parisians do, that toy is important! It sparkles at night!
We walked to the Seine to board the Bateaux-Parisien boat for a tour of the river. The boat was huge, packed with over 200 people. We sat right on the edge of one of the sides practically with our feet dangling over. We passed under 24 of Paris’s bridges. The funniest thing about it was all the people we saw hanging out on the banks and quais. We would wave at them and they would wave at us. Everyone we saw was having such a good time. There were people dancing, people having picnics, people making out, people drinking wine, etc… It felt like the city was one big happy family celebrating something. There was nothing in particular to celebrate except the fact that we were all in Paris having a great time!
When we got back to the hotel, we wanted to get some ice to chill our beer. We asked the man at the counter and he went in the back and actually started scraping ice out of the freezer compartment of their small fridge! What dedication to pleasing the customer! So we chilled our beer, sat on our teeny balcony, planned the next day, finished our leftover picnic food, and wrote a few postcards. Our first day in Paris was filled with excitement and wonder. We were in love with the city already!
Posted by Tim and Jo at 10:10 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
June 19, 2006
Terrific writing tips
I just did a quick search for "writer's block" and "Ph.D." and found a couple of great links.
This one is brilliant! I think it's the music theorist in me that likes to see processes broken down into individual pieces, labeled, and analyzed. The advice here seems especially helpful, not just for the "stuck" stage, but also for the "I have a bunch of stuff written out, it looks like gobbletygook, and what do I do now?" stage. The way the post discusses "transition signals" (similarly, as a result, in conclusion, etc.) as ways of pacing your writing reminds me of tempo markings in a composition.
An old post from New Kid on the Hallway on writer's block has some great tips as well.
Posted by Tim and Jo at 1:53 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
June 15, 2006
Decadal Immersion, or How to Justify Watching Mary Tyler Moore as Serious Research
Part of my dissertation process has been trying to immerse myself in the particular decade I'm studying. It's a fun approach. I had a professor teach use about 19th century Russian music by having us write a book report on a Russian novel of the period, write weekly journals on whatever we had been thinking about in relationship to the class, listening to a cassette of his grandmother recalling her girlhood experience in Russia during the Bolshevik revolution, and other cross-disciplinary activities.
It was years ago, but the class is still vivid in my mind. Once you "feel" the culture, it's so much easier to understand the music. That's a mushy way of describing what was an incredibly profound experience.
Back to my dissertation: I already immersed myself in the 1930s (New Deal here we come!) and the 1950s (no, the decade was not like Leave it to Beaver episodes), and now I'm into the 1970s. Vietnam, Nixon and wonky Bicentennial celebrations (more on those later). And the Mary Tyler Moore show, thanks to Netflix. Never really watched it before, except for a random Nick at Night while babysitting as a teenager. It's really hilarious. And the clothes...wow! Just a quote from one of the books I've been reading, that's quite applicable,
The sexual and synthetic revolutions combined forces to produce some of the ugliest and most outrageous clothes ever seen.
--The Seventies: From Hot Pants to Hot Tubs by Andrew J. Edelstein and Kevin McDonough
Posted by Tim and Jo at 4:31 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
June 5, 2006
Food Experiment #2: Margarita Chicken
Here's the new recipe I tried on Friday. Got it from this cookbook.
Margarita Chicken
Continue reading "Food Experiment #2: Margarita Chicken"
Posted by Tim and Jo at 3:14 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
June 2, 2006
Folk Festival
Phew, it's been too hot to sit in our computer room and blog for the past couple of days. Pittsburgh's felt like 'way down south in Dixie land. However, blazing heat doesn't make me overly nostalgic for my lovely birthplace (though there are many other fine things about it).
Anyway, last weekend was packed full of fun. On Friday night, we went to the annual Pittsburgh Folk Festival, a highlight of our summer. Pittsburgh is amazingly diverse! This was the fiftieth anniversary of the folk festival. It began in the 1950s. Ooooo! Dissertation connect to real-life: the outburst of interest in folk music/cultures that I've researched in connection with my topic is the same outburst that initiated this gorgeous festival. History that I can touch and taste and hear. Here are a few favorite pictures from last year, and then I'll let Tim tell this year's story in his own words. Actually, I feel the need to add my own comments as well.
Indian hip-hoppin' kids--too cute! The girl in the very front had such a cute attitude, not shy at all.
I don't remember which Eastern European country this was--there were tons of them, with lots of fun dancing.
China was terrific, with a huge variety of props--dragons, ribbons, fancy costumes.
I think this is still China. So pretty and symmetrical!
Onto this year...
Tim and Joanna: Tonight we went to the Folk Fest with Rachel. Lots of great music, food and crafts. We started our culinary tour with Hawaii (Lau-lau: chicken cooked in banana leaves), Greece (Pastitsio: like a Greek shepherd’s pie), and Scotland (Finnan Haddock, a smoked fish dish). We washed it all down with a Mango Iced Tea. Joanna valiantly attempted to stir up some Slovakian nostalgia in me but, alas, I didn’t eat any cabbage-based food, nor did I dance the polka. I did have some of the chicken paprikas and mushroom soup that Joanna got from the Slovak booth; both were excellent. (See!!)
Rachel found some Irish crème fudge from the Ireland booth and it was sublime. The Kona coffee from the Hawaiian booth was also amazing.
Now for the music. We heard a men’s choir of Ukrainian descent that had us transfixed. Between numbers, the leader gave us some of the history of the Ukraine – fighting to retain the customs and heritage under the oppression of the Czars and the Soviets. They also had several men playing banduras, lute type instruments that go back to medieval times. Ukrainian minstrels would play them and bring the latest news to the villages they would visit.
Several of the other musical groups had kids singing and dancing, like the Italians, the Germans and the Serbians. They were really talented. The Lithuanians played pan pipes that had a really sweet timbre. As the sweet sounds and rhythms poured out, Pittsburghers impulsively began dancing.
The costumes of all the groups were so colorful and vibrant. A feast for the eyes. We talked for a while to a lady born and raised in Iran. She told how the media greatly misrepresents the people of Iran and focuses only on the negative. She also went into raptures about the beautiful architecture in her country. She said that she had never truly appreciated it until she went away from it, studying in Paris (mutual drooling from the co-chroniclers) and London (more drool). Now we want to visit Iran (and Paris and London)!!
That's the only problem with the folk festival. It makes you want to throw all budgets to the wind and travel the world.
Our souvenir of the evening was a cookbook featuring foods and histories of the many ethnicities that have settled over the years. Mmm! Wanna know what to eat as a Pittsburgher during WWII food rationing? How to pack a lunch pail for your steel mill bound husband? How to make your own Piroshki? It's all here! Joanna's professor we ran into gave us a copy of a tour guide to Pittsburgh and its surrounding area, Routes to Roots. We're already planning out new places to explore and summer festivals to visit. Woohoo!
Posted by Tim and Jo at 8:51 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack