tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69223446528453519202024-03-19T04:43:47.296-05:00Virginia from Montana{ Currently Teaching in Alabama }Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.comBlogger734125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-55710398004229780712011-08-03T16:50:00.002-05:002011-08-07T23:01:33.776-05:00Please Redirect Yourself (to My Other Blog)For the last few months now, I have been keeping up two blogs -- this one and another one hosted by Wordpress. Exactly the same content, but just hosted two different places. That's mostly because I'm lazy and haven't taken the time to figure out how to automatically route this site to that site.<br />
<br />
Of course, that laziness there just means that on this end, I've had to upload all my pictures and material twice. So really more work in the long run. Go figure.<br />
<br />
Well, now that my internet access is limited (wont get it at home for another week and am currently parked outside a storefront on Main Street, sweating off my body weight in water just to get internet), I don't have the patience/time/energy/desire to upkeep two.<br />
<br />
So, my friends, I give you this link: <a href="http://www.virginiafrommontana.com/">www.virginiafrommontana.com</a>.<br />
<br />
Please follow it through to my other site and bookmark that one. And someday (hopefully soon), I'll get virginiafilms.blogspot.com to automatically reroute to <a href="http://virginiafrommontana.com/">virginiafrommontana.com</a>.<br />
<br />
Until then, I apologize, but you'll have to do the work.<br />
<br />
All My Love,<br />
Virginia From MontanaVirginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-34825746544102140072011-08-02T17:02:00.000-05:002011-08-02T17:02:01.849-05:00Things I Never Thought I'd Say -- #2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSSt4kXsNjONx7iZoin3BuKyu28Wx6HGZXaEaDy-BTlfq0XU9JP6VlOAf4Rjcm53w7nVfsk7l9oqyJbcKdjUGnVSBO7w6WSMyqkl4iwFft1xKXxCbfLpb4isHhesx4ZNWdy7NplgDlGCk/s1600/Antebellum25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSSt4kXsNjONx7iZoin3BuKyu28Wx6HGZXaEaDy-BTlfq0XU9JP6VlOAf4Rjcm53w7nVfsk7l9oqyJbcKdjUGnVSBO7w6WSMyqkl4iwFft1xKXxCbfLpb4isHhesx4ZNWdy7NplgDlGCk/s640/Antebellum25.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
"I slept in an antebellum mansion the other night."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg71kGanYzxlE9Aiw0vJJUhPwdxRZyX9-H4_9osbUFgwYN6uXo2H4AlMc_ntj2naGtw9IpZKseStACMthnFtKaFJZDYVHelOnJc4tF9BwqG7KJBa8eJ_EhmZ7KCbajFRA4mjrgGTtY-mZI/s1600/Antebellum14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg71kGanYzxlE9Aiw0vJJUhPwdxRZyX9-H4_9osbUFgwYN6uXo2H4AlMc_ntj2naGtw9IpZKseStACMthnFtKaFJZDYVHelOnJc4tF9BwqG7KJBa8eJ_EhmZ7KCbajFRA4mjrgGTtY-mZI/s640/Antebellum14.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
I did.<br />
<br />
For realz.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAcazAze9NByR8PhQhqovO90gB1F6WZPWHCrNjD8dJpjbq6nDMOXLqd4KPvjynAP8sQLmvh8uUAYR9Y-1E4Ftf0n4InawY17XEVtqyYRC1nHDVBxbHQ7iPkd5r2h0nRFvBNzZnM8dBLEU/s1600/Antebellum12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAcazAze9NByR8PhQhqovO90gB1F6WZPWHCrNjD8dJpjbq6nDMOXLqd4KPvjynAP8sQLmvh8uUAYR9Y-1E4Ftf0n4InawY17XEVtqyYRC1nHDVBxbHQ7iPkd5r2h0nRFvBNzZnM8dBLEU/s640/Antebellum12.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />
<br />
A few of the corps members are renting a legit Antebellum mansion in Eutaw (about 20 or 30 minutes away), and I spent the night there once last week when I had to be Greensboro really early in the morning (before I had moved into my home).<br />
<br />
Just another of the many reasons I'm excited to be living in the deep South for a couple years.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuk_1PXK-Mr-GeoMHuP9uOxY8BZ-43euH8dy9JyACn4MHQZZxt2j7wc4D2ht9idkKS8m-jCdsWRna-RMk51ulLt26y1JQTelc6IdeLjDPa9Y40WVEqRrMSTfoGZAkGqRoLpNF2eShRjYI/s1600/Antebellum8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuk_1PXK-Mr-GeoMHuP9uOxY8BZ-43euH8dy9JyACn4MHQZZxt2j7wc4D2ht9idkKS8m-jCdsWRna-RMk51ulLt26y1JQTelc6IdeLjDPa9Y40WVEqRrMSTfoGZAkGqRoLpNF2eShRjYI/s640/Antebellum8.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The original doorbell.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-6336356892718424232011-08-01T18:42:00.000-05:002011-08-01T18:42:56.664-05:00Math Praxis in TuscaloosaLast Saturday, before our week of Teach For America Orientation in Birmingham (getting ready for the school year), I had to take the Secondary Math Praxis in Tuscaloosa. Joy.<br />
<br />
If you remember before, the Social Studies Praxis may or may not have been an extremely painful experience for me this spring (i.e. I fell asleep while taking it during Spring Break and studied too hard for it in April). I finally passed it though, and congratulated myself on at least being done with that phase of TFA stuff. <br />
<br />
False. <br />
<br />
When I started Induction in June, I was told that there weren’t enough Social Studies positions hiring, so I chose to also interview for math. I got a math job. Which means I’d have to take the math Praxis. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii-2dob0OQMq70S-MApEz2NGzgnv66mxaSkvUXS5fXg640xjVXmA903N2bI3npb25RWbB7LBo8pYyid2ZfeXxsJyQloPUk-nJ3F9qHLRMz8BICMZlkyVo4RJKjtM2D2HazhcDqdye899c/s1600/UofA2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii-2dob0OQMq70S-MApEz2NGzgnv66mxaSkvUXS5fXg640xjVXmA903N2bI3npb25RWbB7LBo8pYyid2ZfeXxsJyQloPUk-nJ3F9qHLRMz8BICMZlkyVo4RJKjtM2D2HazhcDqdye899c/s640/UofA2.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />
<br />
This is the building where I took my Praxis last Saturday. Crazy fancy building for the University of Alabama business college. <br />
<br />
And I thought the OU business college was nice.<br />
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This is how we felt after the test.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhmJo1cLYfAIJN8gf7vsQQbwxp8NXKn75cdVe7t46zTQuAW-TAnLl6wxVL5BpB9gz3c4-LDkN807kvSL3q6SaqKQO97zfz5e6G5A48HBCQcBOtatLVzOrvIyqixQRsej_R6AosqoqB_PA/s1600/UofA3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhmJo1cLYfAIJN8gf7vsQQbwxp8NXKn75cdVe7t46zTQuAW-TAnLl6wxVL5BpB9gz3c4-LDkN807kvSL3q6SaqKQO97zfz5e6G5A48HBCQcBOtatLVzOrvIyqixQRsej_R6AosqoqB_PA/s640/UofA3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<br />
It was a painful experience.<br />
<br />
After the test, to make us feel better, a few of us walked around the University of Alabama campus for a while. Since quite a few of the BamaCorps members went to school there, we’d been hearing lots about the place over the summer. It was fun to finally check it out. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcYSlbC21z6RgqpxbDm3S1EZNjFMGIEXvI-u4QIOsip0WOMYQ0AiKEyPCW4Mv4J-5GvCGPiemAKoNHKCJ-FAdekRCvIUFfA4bPd3bdxC9fhqHRCLbheqzWDisHbMh20t7-jzxENGYhXKg/s1600/UofA38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcYSlbC21z6RgqpxbDm3S1EZNjFMGIEXvI-u4QIOsip0WOMYQ0AiKEyPCW4Mv4J-5GvCGPiemAKoNHKCJ-FAdekRCvIUFfA4bPd3bdxC9fhqHRCLbheqzWDisHbMh20t7-jzxENGYhXKg/s640/UofA38.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />
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Definitely a beautiful campus. Very southern.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsX6y5Ev36R4z9HMMcTEXLq-Bn0h_UJmSA8ymKEJbGBVeeWNCUHiKCrj4TPP-ifnGFvrFbJXP3puUQtCbKEXWXMCv3pdCITRHMe_0cNbi-VFvceSaMm6PUWaYZPRYTUpjN36sFByfCe8k/s1600/UofA26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsX6y5Ev36R4z9HMMcTEXLq-Bn0h_UJmSA8ymKEJbGBVeeWNCUHiKCrj4TPP-ifnGFvrFbJXP3puUQtCbKEXWXMCv3pdCITRHMe_0cNbi-VFvceSaMm6PUWaYZPRYTUpjN36sFByfCe8k/s640/UofA26.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Oh, and after the test we all got breakfast at this super cute breakfast spot called Wayside Restaurant. While I’m biased and personally think nothing will ever stack up to The Diner in Norman, this was a preeeeetty close second.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhITWZtaPsOWMl3Fol-1tGjCPMmCmpGw23FMXknED7ynCszrJHG0WH_ejfUX-DpsrIQ_pVf8OQJPlZ7XgTs2a1pkLvn20ENrIQwXxif49Ve2fRrWmjuBQVuKwHAr1c18tomjQW3R11sBpU/s1600/UofA45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhITWZtaPsOWMl3Fol-1tGjCPMmCmpGw23FMXknED7ynCszrJHG0WH_ejfUX-DpsrIQ_pVf8OQJPlZ7XgTs2a1pkLvn20ENrIQwXxif49Ve2fRrWmjuBQVuKwHAr1c18tomjQW3R11sBpU/s640/UofA45.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<br />
It’s basically a little red house that they converted into a breakfast diner, where there are about 16 tables and a plethora of Alabama doodads covering all available wall space. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFPqz7BDfMOvVlWN5sweaiWyp_XkOprLhHpLUWRNXxqwitpTSuWRphRh5hupSF8_7igWvetB0so5KgymJmJUFgcQ4V7LJCOdLabs0lA0DAGlAbs7YR-aHJQ4kmddnN-C14jLbmbgw0GwE/s1600/UofA43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFPqz7BDfMOvVlWN5sweaiWyp_XkOprLhHpLUWRNXxqwitpTSuWRphRh5hupSF8_7igWvetB0so5KgymJmJUFgcQ4V7LJCOdLabs0lA0DAGlAbs7YR-aHJQ4kmddnN-C14jLbmbgw0GwE/s640/UofA43.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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<br />
A perfect end to a not-so-awesome morning.Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-9060941398603625562011-07-31T19:14:00.000-05:002011-07-31T19:14:16.289-05:00Officially Moved InLadies and Gentlemen, <br />
I am now an official resident of Greensboro, Alabama. I have a house and a bed and a mailing address. I have a school and a classroom and a principal. <br />
<br />
I live in the quaintest place imaginable, and right now, I'm having a hard time believing I'll ever get sick of this place. Never. It's toooooo precious (pictures to come soon). <br />
<br />
Love,<br />
Virginia from Montana (currently living/teaching in Alabama)Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-13373442560255195982011-07-30T11:13:00.000-05:002011-07-30T11:13:56.194-05:00Out of ServiceI was about to blog to warn everyone that they wouldn't be hearing from me for a while because I'll be without internet for the weekend, and then I remembered that you really haven't been hearing much from me anyway, regardless of whether I have internet or not. <br />
<br />
Whoops.<br />
<br />
That's going to change though. I'm going to get better. I hope. This teaching thing is really hard and I'm going to need all my resources to survive the next two years, and since blogging has always been my coping strategy in the past, I think I'll use it for this go-around. <br />
<br />
Get excited. The next time you hear from me, I'll have a house and a job and all those fun thing that mean "grown-up." <br />
<br />
Until then, let's pray I don't get lost in rural Alabama again. This no GPS thing is stressing me out.Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-14410340539037295592011-07-27T20:23:00.002-05:002011-07-27T20:23:49.010-05:00Officially HiredI have a job! Hallelujah! <br />
<br />
I will be teaching eighth grade Pre-Algebra in the fall, and I couldn't be more excited. <br />
<br />
I am a teacher. Life is crazy. Wish me luck!Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-3604068736796892222011-07-27T00:01:00.001-05:002011-07-27T00:07:17.109-05:00Po' MonkeyI keep finding all these pictures from the summer that I never posted (and blog ideas that never made it up). Institute will do that to you, I guess. But now I have a relatively clear week, so I can get around to putting up all the pictures I've taken recently.<br />
<br />
The first of these are pictures from my excursion to Po' Monkey during the FIRST weeks of Institute.<br />
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Po' Monkey, really Poor Monkey (gotta love that charming Southern slang), is a place unlike any other. Established in 1961, it is considered to be one of the last juke joints in the south. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyjSCaGrvZ1zYZo7KEk_NJK3413GF0rOG9V_iERQ2yqDd4KA67as1skqtfQFL5eqC1ng83s2aA51AhdmFg63tAV-MBMEqCrFfL_N-iVHESxbnpF6QOEcD40ualMS7R3joP7vpJwO7sXfE/s1600/PoMonkey4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyjSCaGrvZ1zYZo7KEk_NJK3413GF0rOG9V_iERQ2yqDd4KA67as1skqtfQFL5eqC1ng83s2aA51AhdmFg63tAV-MBMEqCrFfL_N-iVHESxbnpF6QOEcD40ualMS7R3joP7vpJwO7sXfE/s640/PoMonkey4.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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We'd heard about it because it was one of those "places to see" while in the Delta. A last true remnant of juke joints? Yes please. A no-brainer.<br />
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<a name='more'></a><br />
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The only problem was that Po' Monkey's is only open two nights a week, on Monday and Thursday. This made making time to drive out there a challenge when your mornings start at 5:20 a.m. and don't really end until at least 11:00 p.m. An excursion to Po' Monkey's was going to take some serious planning. <br />
<br />
Monday night was pretty much out of the question, as Monday night was Stripper Night and the rumor was that all females in attendance would be expected to strip.<br />
<br />
Um, thanks but no thanks. <br />
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That left Thursday night, which was called Family Night -- not because children were allowed inside (they weren't) but because there weren't any strippers then. Excellent.<br />
<br />
So on the first Thursday of Institute, before things got crazy hectic and we all became sleep-deprived zombies, a few of us made the excursion out to Po' Monkey's for a beer (the only thing they sell). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1wogVgH5ayTBe-S-UJMFxreGqJpeqGVVtJTBlUjKldT3p3Qhtifk-YLsBMw7uJwrnZxeJnUhY-qm9KRSry2tC7pnU2jA1hMBhsH6eUvXWhBdAZ00SH_0C0YFnrQgl7aLeMSZ_FsbiJH4/s1600/PoMonkey6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1wogVgH5ayTBe-S-UJMFxreGqJpeqGVVtJTBlUjKldT3p3Qhtifk-YLsBMw7uJwrnZxeJnUhY-qm9KRSry2tC7pnU2jA1hMBhsH6eUvXWhBdAZ00SH_0C0YFnrQgl7aLeMSZ_FsbiJH4/s640/PoMonkey6.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Getting there was also an adventure. The other thing about Po' Monkey's, besides the fact that it's only open two nights a week, is that it is unsearchable on a map. Un-GoogleMap-able, if you will. How were we supposed to get there?<br />
<br />
Wyatt, our trusty leader, looked around online to get some directions and found something along the lines of "Once you get to the Marionville town limits, drive around the back roads and get lost. Then flag down a passing car and ask them to direct you to Po' Monkey's. They'll know where to go."<br />
<br />
No joke.<br />
<br />
So that's what we did. We drove to Marionville, then pulled off the main high way and drove up and down a couple country dirt roads (past a giant raging field fire, in fact) until we finally passed a car. Flagging them down, Wyatt asked for directions. We followed them, but didn't follow them correctly and ended up back in Cleveland. <br />
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Back where we started, Wyatt stopped at a gas station and asked the woman at the counter for directions. The rest of us had stayed in the car, so I'll give you the interaction from my perspective (adding my own dialogue, of course).<br />
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Wyatt: Excuse me, ma'am. Could you please tell me how to get to Po' Monkey's.<br />
<br />
Lady: Well, I actually have no idea. But my husband does. Let me call him. <br />
<br />
Lady gets on gas station phone (old school giant phone) and calls husband. After talking a bit, she hands the phone to Wyatt. Wyatt talks for a while. <br />
<br />
Wyatt: Sir, do you think you could give me directions to the Po' Monkey? I am new in the area and would love to see this spectacular historical landmark. <br />
<br />
Lady's Husband: Well sure. You drive up the highway and you keep going until you get to... well, you get to a... um, you know, I don't really remember. Why don't I just come show you?<br />
<br />
Wyatt: Sir?<br />
<br />
Lady's Husband: You sit tight and I'll drive over to the station and take you there. <br />
<br />
And that's how we found Po' Monkey's. The lady's husband drove up to the gas station (I guess he had to pick her up from work them anyway) and then drove out to Po' Monkey's with cars in pursuit. <br />
<br />
I'm sure that somewhere in this whole exchange, it occurred to us that this could be a rather risky move, allowing a complete stranger to lead us out into the country. But it wasn't until we pulled off the four-lane highway, onto a completely dark country road, that we started seriously questioning our judgement. And I think our street smarts flew completely out the window when the man waved out the window and motioned us on down the road. We drove on in trust and faith in Southern hospitality. <br />
<br />
And sure enough, after bumping along a quiet dirt road through a corn field for a while (i.e. think of every scary movie set in the country ever made), the way parted, and up ahead we saw the lights of Po' Monkey's.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQqqy5jIo2txiCIhJEG7ai6BqWLp1ZI3dKZYhj76_17gyE_TFaz5-g9WgeKq05sMeHp9QPcgGJn1wmzuMaW3DNKN1F5lhrrBxKNVnWzK57WEKuaTtQR8sBrTEuoOps7tS_Hhl-B5oAp6g/s1600/PoMonkey10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQqqy5jIo2txiCIhJEG7ai6BqWLp1ZI3dKZYhj76_17gyE_TFaz5-g9WgeKq05sMeHp9QPcgGJn1wmzuMaW3DNKN1F5lhrrBxKNVnWzK57WEKuaTtQR8sBrTEuoOps7tS_Hhl-B5oAp6g/s640/PoMonkey10.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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Po' Monkey's was nothing like I was expecting. It was probably a gazillion times more awesome.<br />
<br />
The shack (and it was literally a shack) was made up of about three and a half itsy-bitsy rooms with low ceilings, a pool table shoved in one room, a DJ in a nook in the other (with a number of card tables), and a teeeeeny tiny dance floor and the window for the bar (only beer) at the front.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsRr1N9m-2QzY519SvXNeDu3tjlEbvUDgmOt_3nD_Mpi3W7fRx1tCL_jdblssgGOYQ0D5sMhUuOzbiDd5GvSldLHoco7ZF-TzpSVAMZCKaDh4GjjWd-09vH7qRr3NJePRinX7LVWRImdo/s1600/PoMonkey19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsRr1N9m-2QzY519SvXNeDu3tjlEbvUDgmOt_3nD_Mpi3W7fRx1tCL_jdblssgGOYQ0D5sMhUuOzbiDd5GvSldLHoco7ZF-TzpSVAMZCKaDh4GjjWd-09vH7qRr3NJePRinX7LVWRImdo/s640/PoMonkey19.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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And the decorations. Oh, the decorations. Anything and everything you can think of was nailed to the walls and dripping from the ceiling -- streamers, a disco ball, twinkle lights, Happy Birthday banners, postcards, old photos, naked baby dolls (literally), butcher paper, glittery paper, metallic surfaces, netting, stuffed animals (of the state fair variety), and so much more. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDK4s-8qCd32aF1ioHptMV8NBNDy1xhe4u-Dw2ZM3-0TZ9oo6D-9fpwaNzKGSDRTxowtLiVRXqkbiaeAnaMVh21WvbAdLHvI2JwM7pODJk0VMm3SpJy3YVBHxs-nAy5PcP58TW3_Mk_ts/s1600/PoMonkey27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDK4s-8qCd32aF1ioHptMV8NBNDy1xhe4u-Dw2ZM3-0TZ9oo6D-9fpwaNzKGSDRTxowtLiVRXqkbiaeAnaMVh21WvbAdLHvI2JwM7pODJk0VMm3SpJy3YVBHxs-nAy5PcP58TW3_Mk_ts/s640/PoMonkey27.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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Of course, even more than being a decorating spectacle, Po' Monkey's is a juke joint. One of the last true juke joints around. We went for the awesome atmosphere AND the awesome music. And for the dancing. BamaCorps was known to start the dancing there on more than one occasion. What can I say? We're a fun bunch. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">To close out the post, I'd like to share with you one of the particular favorites of BamaCorps -- I'm Bout It Bout It. Feel free to spread the good sound of the Delta to your friends and family. It's a magical sound.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Ra8vv5aHcsk?rel=0" width="425"></iframe></div>Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-47978277014768113042011-07-24T23:56:00.000-05:002011-07-24T23:56:19.428-05:00Refreshed and Renewed<span id="goog_437749009"></span><span id="goog_437749010"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2bIKCy1yNv5jyEV75dK_cuZczeRtbuTVciCDT2FTfX6UlzgquhRSKGCo7PNz-YU92pKtB8V2wdBM8kCkKVu_UNsjxQdz_gLjfNbHG2ZV4Q5dy1CioU3cEwakAStXJjjj2YOrJ2-jOdco/s1600/OK.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2bIKCy1yNv5jyEV75dK_cuZczeRtbuTVciCDT2FTfX6UlzgquhRSKGCo7PNz-YU92pKtB8V2wdBM8kCkKVu_UNsjxQdz_gLjfNbHG2ZV4Q5dy1CioU3cEwakAStXJjjj2YOrJ2-jOdco/s640/OK.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Oklahoma has been good to me. Since deciding to go to school there four years ago, it has become my home, full of amazing memories and people I love (and miss dearly). So last week, when someone in BamaCorps mentioned that they were driving to Oklahoma for the week break between Institute and Orientation, I almost died of happiness. Would I like to come with her? Hell yes, I want to come with you!<br />
<br />
So blessing of blessings, I got to stay in Oklahoma for almost a week, soaking up the sun, sleeping a bit more than before, and seeing all my friends one more time before the craziness of teaching starts for realz.<br />
<br />
There's nothing like a little R&R with friends. Nowhere to go and nothing to do. Well, sure I studied for the Praxis (Khan Academy = the best thing that ever happened to zee interwebs), but that's it. Nothing more than that. And it was loooooooovely. Absolute bliss. The break was good for my soul.<br />
<br />
But all good things must come to an end eventually. The week sped by way too quickly, and early Friday morning my TFA friend was at my door, ready to take me back down south. Seeing the new lives that my friends are creating for themselves, I'm so sad to leave and maybe miss out on some of that.<br />
<br />
But I am also excited about the new life that I am creating here. The week showed me that, while my friends will always be a part of my life, it's time to start letting go of Oklahoma. I'm with a new state now, and it's only fair to start that new relationship with a whole heart (and no pieces left behind). Can't be emotionally cheating now, can I?<br />
<br />
So no need to worry, Alabama. I'm here 100%.<br />
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At least for the next two years.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiulsWrB0xuAas91PBkk_G_MQWV_KcMxFRJ9OwabvEuEa_tBPVJXFvM06s_hFnsmwOwBZ32ezp3JFXE8l4eUX_5EFVktPhApwGyttMV3zspQmELGgN45ZN3-672_C8oJpfzp_V6cW-VwAQ/s1600/AlabamaStateLine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiulsWrB0xuAas91PBkk_G_MQWV_KcMxFRJ9OwabvEuEa_tBPVJXFvM06s_hFnsmwOwBZ32ezp3JFXE8l4eUX_5EFVktPhApwGyttMV3zspQmELGgN45ZN3-672_C8oJpfzp_V6cW-VwAQ/s640/AlabamaStateLine.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-87430285031870628502011-07-20T17:30:00.001-05:002011-07-20T17:30:09.869-05:00Khan Academy = LifesaverSpent all day today studying for the Secondary Math Praxis that I have to pass on Saturday. Gross.<br />
<br />
Cramming and trying to remember everything I learned in high school is sooooo much harder than I thought it'd be. Thank god Khan Academy exists. I've spent so much time on that site today watching tutorial videos. So much time, in fact, that I finally signed up for an account so I can get points for each video I watch. Not sure what happens when I get however many points I'm supposed to get, but it sure is fun to watch that number tick up during each movie. Keeps me entertained during these boring, boring times.Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-17665879382125376422011-07-19T10:25:00.001-05:002011-07-19T10:25:43.108-05:00. . .<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">“Greatness is not in where we stand, but in what direction we are moving. We must sail sometimes with the wind and sometimes against it – but sail we must and not drift, nor lie at anchor”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">– Oliver Wendell Holmes<o:p></o:p></span></div><!--EndFragment-->Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-88872385087982999902011-07-18T19:08:00.001-05:002011-07-18T19:17:47.771-05:00The Ruleville Mural<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTwhzcI_QztKOav6-17-jMdHbCUc48QxsiDSESwKdbn34hxpCZCoYbzWy6PrAPmmK5oZ_M-b01eMNb-qCBoh-kLwC-SP6Pj70WzWTC-MZvFzZTfgDTA57dkjCuvZeKW0hc1WNYVO9TUyY/s1600/LastDay10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTwhzcI_QztKOav6-17-jMdHbCUc48QxsiDSESwKdbn34hxpCZCoYbzWy6PrAPmmK5oZ_M-b01eMNb-qCBoh-kLwC-SP6Pj70WzWTC-MZvFzZTfgDTA57dkjCuvZeKW0hc1WNYVO9TUyY/s640/LastDay10.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />
About halfway through Institute, I started realizing that while I had a pretty well controlled classroom as far as no running around and throwing desks goes, the kids didn’t really respect me. They followed the rules but mumbled under their breath or made faces when they thought I wasn’t looking. Lots of passive aggressive things that, as a rather passive aggressive person myself, didn’t slip past me. <br />
<br />
I knew I needed to do something fast to get them to realize that while I could be super strict and mean (You’re probably thinking I can’t be mean, but totally not true. I must have tapped into some hidden reserve or something, because I was the meanest, no-nonsense teacher in my room), I really did care about each of them individually as a person. <br />
<br />
So in a flash of optimism, I decided that I’d teach painting in the morning. <br />
<br />
Then in a flash of reality, I realized that that’d be a logistical nightmare.<br />
<br />
So I guess I decided on something in between. My kids and I would paint together, and I’d teach little things as the opportunity arose. But otherwise we’d just paint and chat and I’d clean up after them and things like that to keep it simple. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwnRD7IJH5rebYacsfwTTL3wvvtbDDVM1qrubg7o8r2qcSEkjYxyYU3ZXnDz_zuq6FjXWgH-Slp4eFXDJyeccAF0SsAAukrsV4HD5DUCuDBTWFA-1IKM6QwbiH77NjNMYLSJFf_zsJQz0/s1600/LastDay9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwnRD7IJH5rebYacsfwTTL3wvvtbDDVM1qrubg7o8r2qcSEkjYxyYU3ZXnDz_zuq6FjXWgH-Slp4eFXDJyeccAF0SsAAukrsV4HD5DUCuDBTWFA-1IKM6QwbiH77NjNMYLSJFf_zsJQz0/s640/LastDay9.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<br />
The end result was a mural that three of my students and I worked on every morning for two weeks. I wanted it to be something that they cared about, so on the back of their end-of-class assessments for a week, I had the kids draw what they’d like their community to look like someday. <br />
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Then I compiled their drawings into one and created a little mural (about two and a half feet by four) of Ruleville in the future – complete with a community center, movie theater, church, and snow cone stand (all their ideas). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT0AWK4cJmSi8Cu7gLp1pfOBD2xKCJreMlx4tEj9GoaHvhOeMGuuxGnfIl__hfO57nn7ZpgrZUiM_CGFRurC9XOmkq8_XUqyJ063kwy1tsuxdcs4ToGYGUc8iqKRlHLcK9FtKLTdyxN4Y/s1600/LastDay24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT0AWK4cJmSi8Cu7gLp1pfOBD2xKCJreMlx4tEj9GoaHvhOeMGuuxGnfIl__hfO57nn7ZpgrZUiM_CGFRurC9XOmkq8_XUqyJ063kwy1tsuxdcs4ToGYGUc8iqKRlHLcK9FtKLTdyxN4Y/s640/LastDay24.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />
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It was a really fun project, and completely supported by the leadership at my school. In fact, the principle of the actual high school told us that we could just pick any place in the school and he’d hang it up for the kids. So now as they enter 9th grade, those girls will be able to see their mural up in the 9th grade hallway every day – something they can be proud of. <br />
<br />
I think the plan really worked. I was able to get to know two of my most challenging kids (as far as attitude goes), and knowing them better helped me so much when it came to teaching and disciplining. And it was just fun to talk with them and learn more about the 8th/9th grade mind (it’s been a bit since I was there). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiScK-GgRdPxquWa1scmWaAtpfptga5WstyzagiSnxgvRZbi2IsFlQ4Jh3mxS9A5lyLh42UKRywqKe4ePX1JG0d-N-qUgKxmaQL7fhg5WqGrcl9n8z-YIxQaenKF7DXzY82ei1x3aUb4DM/s1600/LastDay8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiScK-GgRdPxquWa1scmWaAtpfptga5WstyzagiSnxgvRZbi2IsFlQ4Jh3mxS9A5lyLh42UKRywqKe4ePX1JG0d-N-qUgKxmaQL7fhg5WqGrcl9n8z-YIxQaenKF7DXzY82ei1x3aUb4DM/s640/LastDay8.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<br />
And, as I mentioned before, the cherry on top was our shout-out at the Teach For America Closing Ceremonies. When I told K, her eyes got huge and she just stared in disbelief. She didn’t believe me, and once I convinced her of it, she just smiled and shook her head. Then, when we had three or four visitors come in that morning to see the “famous mural everyone’s been talking about,” K. (maybe the shyest person I’ve ever met) absolutely beamed with pride as she explained to everyone what everything in the mural was. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkMF_e24qiTtcSBWlm-q6mRhIfej8OuhnZnVSV8u9eqlrz8Kbdau5_c_cYJpQkgrcQzJz6T5ksLjwVhlC8eWKoMntumNKdJHJC7M8_zUCsgQ9q7wmHqWP18lButXh27RnJP8Mm2pLstlg/s1600/LastDay17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkMF_e24qiTtcSBWlm-q6mRhIfej8OuhnZnVSV8u9eqlrz8Kbdau5_c_cYJpQkgrcQzJz6T5ksLjwVhlC8eWKoMntumNKdJHJC7M8_zUCsgQ9q7wmHqWP18lButXh27RnJP8Mm2pLstlg/s640/LastDay17.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />
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Maybe my proudest moment ever, to see her come out of her shell like that and really own the project she’d been working on that summer. Those moments, to me, are what teaching is all about.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnMDNc4ZEGj5UW1eTPsrmSdS1IkMX5NZRtXfQ9nhWIT8ufLo1-R_zYY9sd8X4txX5l9UPJw0zS65ek-Hj1ARZJ-38nj0CN1WEMfPZdAOXvfZPuxS5h9Ux6LqGPC-WBHdPFSTGJsfQYthQ/s1600/LastDay7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnMDNc4ZEGj5UW1eTPsrmSdS1IkMX5NZRtXfQ9nhWIT8ufLo1-R_zYY9sd8X4txX5l9UPJw0zS65ek-Hj1ARZJ-38nj0CN1WEMfPZdAOXvfZPuxS5h9Ux6LqGPC-WBHdPFSTGJsfQYthQ/s640/LastDay7.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-48150675167501251212011-07-18T15:22:00.001-05:002011-07-18T15:22:47.430-05:00Things I Never Thought I'd Say -- #1At Barnes & Noble--<br />
<br />
Me: "Do you have a discount for teachers?"<br />
<br />
Lady at Register: "Sure. What grade do you teach?"<br />
<br />
Me: "Eighth grade."<br />
<br />
I'm now eligible for teacher discounts. Because I'm a teacher. Kinda like senior citizen benefits except without the being old part. <br />
<br />
Life is good.Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-16461355072203632282011-07-17T14:04:00.000-05:002011-07-17T14:04:05.512-05:00Closing Ceremonies at Delta StateThe Closing Ceremonies for Institute were awesome. Incredibly awesome. <br />
<br />
All corps members were all supposed to sit with our school sites for the ceremony (since we'd spent so much time with them over the last five weeks), so Ruleville all got together before the ceremonies to prepare. And by prepare, I mean that we all dressed in black and covered ourselves with green and yellow streamers (the colors of Ruleville). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7B9Q75RooKLQByuNA3plOcFnajM-qEnd_-UXMjhYNWM8gu5vL9NhPsRp9HT5bsTNuDk-kE4wEYlYrflK2DD1fiC7EKR2GFeyL0vvdqYfXM_gk-y1ux7JLR58PZFDMfdVRz_hr5GZC3-o/s1600/ClosingCeremonies66.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7B9Q75RooKLQByuNA3plOcFnajM-qEnd_-UXMjhYNWM8gu5vL9NhPsRp9HT5bsTNuDk-kE4wEYlYrflK2DD1fiC7EKR2GFeyL0vvdqYfXM_gk-y1ux7JLR58PZFDMfdVRz_hr5GZC3-o/s640/ClosingCeremonies66.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
So. Much. Spirit.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMeEFwfd1RK9m1hlwV1uVbfiGBSTxvbc8TTUqE93pzALkmGFFeO06PPoVYWM_FX6xP3AsrPt_9g6Kv-7h65L0mnTTtsZ3kbCP4cPzvFTgt1t6Fhl1uwtSRXO2Zzj3T4i1qT8XWiGGbtZs/s1600/ClosingCeremonies41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMeEFwfd1RK9m1hlwV1uVbfiGBSTxvbc8TTUqE93pzALkmGFFeO06PPoVYWM_FX6xP3AsrPt_9g6Kv-7h65L0mnTTtsZ3kbCP4cPzvFTgt1t6Fhl1uwtSRXO2Zzj3T4i1qT8XWiGGbtZs/s640/ClosingCeremonies41.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of the people from my awesome CMA group.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
We then all walked in together shouting "Ruleville Tigers" and holding up tiger paws. We're cool like that. <br />
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And we cheered...<br />
<br />
"50% sweat,<br />
50% skill,<br />
100% reason to remember Ruleville.<br />
10 % sleep,<br />
90% gain,<br />
100% reason to remember the name.<br />
RULEVILLE!"<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr0wt5q7MTClMaxDJjS3FT48JXnC4EiwopYHdL1dlx2mkIFA341lBJB8YF-UKHoSXTTT5VAchCk3uHnKsJHhaP0bsThRO5vEjrPnonna7kB-PGqpY4nbQSS-xm0e2BfH9wN3_Ce0TdBR4/s1600/ClosingCeremonies97.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr0wt5q7MTClMaxDJjS3FT48JXnC4EiwopYHdL1dlx2mkIFA341lBJB8YF-UKHoSXTTT5VAchCk3uHnKsJHhaP0bsThRO5vEjrPnonna7kB-PGqpY4nbQSS-xm0e2BfH9wN3_Ce0TdBR4/s640/ClosingCeremonies97.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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The ceremony itself was the best part though. It started with a choir from a local Kipp school (public charter school) singing a couple songs, and then overall Director of Institute gave a speech. <br />
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AND.... My kids and I got a huge shout-out during the Closing Ceremonies!!! The Director of Institute gave a shout-out to four different corps members about how they went above and beyond to work with their kids, and I was one of them. He talked to the entire audience about how I invested a few of my most difficult kids by having them paint a mural with me before class every morning (blog about the mural coming soon). What an awesome feeling, to be recognized for that hard work and to have my fellow corps members celebrate that with me.<br />
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AND... My friend Geales absolutely ROCKED her speech at the Closing Ceremonies. Listening to her stories during Institute, reading her <a href="http://geales.tumblr.com/">blog</a>, and watching her on stage tonight reminded me of the incredibly people I've had the good fortune to meet. Geales is one of the most selfless people I know, with a heart and soul of gold. I love her to death, and I'm so happy that she got the opportunity to speak in front of her peers. Gave me chills.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4wL89Jor0oHVelbB0sCohXjJGxu2_uYwSBicH_H6Et6efj3lKx_bDTWOD5WBN0TdFUPKGM0iL5s1_HVpXprf6_CHTunW9uDpwNrKeGC5s36AwDjoMfY2VVIUS_6sqIr9aCnI1UnZ7ED4/s1600/ClosingCeremonies114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4wL89Jor0oHVelbB0sCohXjJGxu2_uYwSBicH_H6Et6efj3lKx_bDTWOD5WBN0TdFUPKGM0iL5s1_HVpXprf6_CHTunW9uDpwNrKeGC5s36AwDjoMfY2VVIUS_6sqIr9aCnI1UnZ7ED4/s640/ClosingCeremonies114.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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AND... BamaCorps was hard-core represented through-out the entire ceremony. A fellow BamaCorps member, Mickey, was another of the four CMs who got a shout-out during the Director of Institute's speech (so two out of four = not too shabby). And we were all over the place in the ending slideshow, which was a montage of a ton of pictures taken at all the different school sites this summer. <br />
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Overall, a pretty great evening to wrap up my summer experience at Institute.Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-5326650884851750792011-07-11T21:23:00.000-05:002011-07-11T21:23:20.976-05:00Happy Belated Fourth of July!In true Southern hospitality, Delta State and the community of Cleveland threw all of us at Teach For America -- corps members and staff -- an awesome Fourth of July celebration last weekend in the park, with a giant barbeque, massive fans to cool us from the scorching heat, drinks, and an awesome fireworks show.<br />
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There's nothing quite like fireworks. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW3-LENR995Azgc-5DGgiaiI7eDtSOeueyerj38Gyof-VEhzB-5-QfdDJPMHcB5v5l30g8aUp3Q-9cXNR4uBXwZ2bXCecUR74Nq9KbS3ss5c_4R9JlQKnzMGho1IpwIIFucqP3dcDmx-o/s1600/NOLA173.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW3-LENR995Azgc-5DGgiaiI7eDtSOeueyerj38Gyof-VEhzB-5-QfdDJPMHcB5v5l30g8aUp3Q-9cXNR4uBXwZ2bXCecUR74Nq9KbS3ss5c_4R9JlQKnzMGho1IpwIIFucqP3dcDmx-o/s640/NOLA173.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />
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On the way home from New Orleans, my friend Sean got all excited and bought a bunch of sparklers and things at a random giant fireworks tent. And being the generous, big-hearted person that he is, he brought them to the picnic for everyone to enjoy. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdCXvzdRPsTNORNI7ODlFLaY1dD6UjMd-9YxcDY4NjTpitysqfOjW-u6NkcYTf4pnW_Ws2RP2JE28rnktIENbUlqpv_kUvYBMM_tsKs8f384zge14mq-2-X1vc9as3R-LrdqFiWwYQlL0/s1600/Fourth41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdCXvzdRPsTNORNI7ODlFLaY1dD6UjMd-9YxcDY4NjTpitysqfOjW-u6NkcYTf4pnW_Ws2RP2JE28rnktIENbUlqpv_kUvYBMM_tsKs8f384zge14mq-2-X1vc9as3R-LrdqFiWwYQlL0/s640/Fourth41.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmjGFswDp-EPqnZJvnctkZSAfmoQTzuVu4gmhz5E6kzrORcemKcSl5DOq0aFGfbQYvbU9CV4bq2ehzOCasfq9i6oyaLAHO2kn1NXg-y2lSCYo5GjS-kE7LAj0OyJUYQvlpmbvpPj8TWLc/s1600/Fourth42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmjGFswDp-EPqnZJvnctkZSAfmoQTzuVu4gmhz5E6kzrORcemKcSl5DOq0aFGfbQYvbU9CV4bq2ehzOCasfq9i6oyaLAHO2kn1NXg-y2lSCYo5GjS-kE7LAj0OyJUYQvlpmbvpPj8TWLc/s640/Fourth42.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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I'll repeat, there's nothing quite like fireworks. Especially sparklers.<br />
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Everyone loves them, and they would make even the saddest person happy.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbfMhNGMOzvExsrA-HHR9xkB6D-LkIrMzfuN8EheuKJcgiYer5_zkNNUW-ZlDA7sOJT93vrAx2uDnw4Hdb6sdfKEgPsJ9wayQ0c2wkO5vsiOugC0lsh-vZu_Nui9WX3Z1-lOErpU5aGlg/s1600/Fourth58.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbfMhNGMOzvExsrA-HHR9xkB6D-LkIrMzfuN8EheuKJcgiYer5_zkNNUW-ZlDA7sOJT93vrAx2uDnw4Hdb6sdfKEgPsJ9wayQ0c2wkO5vsiOugC0lsh-vZu_Nui9WX3Z1-lOErpU5aGlg/s640/Fourth58.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />
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Fizzing crackles of light are a sure-fire way to bring everyone together. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUu2eRhglWVbEhHgthROpsx14vyZcfHSDj5F__4jLLJ5DjmpYgNJu97WFhcWDPUTeUPmTDMg4ussviATlJWXXb3_uw8tIgS_6sdmmOh2rD2dpCLE-sXq4mlJm46JEiXhd364vOXSH59Cg/s1600/Fourth67.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUu2eRhglWVbEhHgthROpsx14vyZcfHSDj5F__4jLLJ5DjmpYgNJu97WFhcWDPUTeUPmTDMg4ussviATlJWXXb3_uw8tIgS_6sdmmOh2rD2dpCLE-sXq4mlJm46JEiXhd364vOXSH59Cg/s640/Fourth67.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Thanks to the generosity of the community, it was a wonderful holiday.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjELCBzAO2S0EThcwPFNGzV82oHI8owst_vrOFzlK3huTasm8z0oC2SGudxNf_tbZfa3nMjU0P8TGjj6wPZzRLic1rL7BuTuygLw2yremLkjhvidXPx4iN7hJoXa9nIgdoNEtRj0epdt5w/s1600/Fourth131.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjELCBzAO2S0EThcwPFNGzV82oHI8owst_vrOFzlK3huTasm8z0oC2SGudxNf_tbZfa3nMjU0P8TGjj6wPZzRLic1rL7BuTuygLw2yremLkjhvidXPx4iN7hJoXa9nIgdoNEtRj0epdt5w/s640/Fourth131.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-11359565258188419492011-07-11T20:26:00.001-05:002011-07-11T20:26:20.795-05:00Entering the Home StretchTime's almost up. We're entering the last week of Institute, and I couldn't be more relieved. And panicked.<br />
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I'm excited to leave and go somewhere where I can cook my own meals, sleep in until at least 9 a.m., and breathe. Lots of breathing. Lots of free time and free space. And studying for the PRAXIS. But that's a small price to pay for freedom.<br />
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And yet, with all this excitement about regaining some semblance of sanity and life back, I'm also two hairs shy of all-out panic. Institute is a relatively comfortable bubble of structure and more support than you could ever ask for. Corp member advisors, faculty advisors, curriculum specialists, literacy specialists, school managers, and fellow corps members are everywhere, available to help in any situation and answer any question. It's an incredible support system that I'd have to be crazy not to appreciate.<br />
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And now I'm about to lose most of it. Not all of it, mind you. The program directors (PDs, our mentors) in Alabama are awesome and I'm excited to work with them. And even having PDs is more support than the regular individual who graduates from college with an education degree and sets forth alone to be a teacher. Bless their brave souls. But even so, we're still being thrust into the world of teaching soon, to flounder and find our way. <br />
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Should be an interesting first few months of teaching, that's for sure.Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-62699097697376132312011-07-10T19:00:00.001-05:002011-07-10T19:06:24.898-05:00My Fourth of July Weekend Part 2: New Orleans<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3WTFxfFgf4gICXINVbp4_TFWaQPBR1xxQxSMpkxdekGsar_3JpYXgXO3q8bS8XT51XjbZjHeeIYHR9IbZu0CVhH9VBQuuSQb8ePcwthqVIiLUe4ODUxNeMqZZjoBMpcjA8ZHrUiIfN7Q/s1600/NOLA113.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3WTFxfFgf4gICXINVbp4_TFWaQPBR1xxQxSMpkxdekGsar_3JpYXgXO3q8bS8XT51XjbZjHeeIYHR9IbZu0CVhH9VBQuuSQb8ePcwthqVIiLUe4ODUxNeMqZZjoBMpcjA8ZHrUiIfN7Q/s640/NOLA113.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
After our swamp tour on Saturday morning, we drove about twenty minutes from Slidell to the great city of New Orleans. Our plan was to spend the day there, exploring a new city and enjoying an entire day of zero Teach For America discussions.<br />
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It was glorious.<br />
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Driving to our hotel took us directly past the Louisiana Superdome, which was crazy to see in real life after hearing so much about it on the news during the Hurricane Katrina aftermath.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcwUQ0vI8caH8mah-pWNwQrisBatBCXTskDY_dqV4LdeO3sy1q2-g5nOT0oEwRg9ubL6cJ912SOifF2Q3oNIjcB_SojwAQLRJgmcj3W9jysYzr1GSAOL4d_B0WlKQc2Mkeby_b6j57oME/s1600/NOLA127.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcwUQ0vI8caH8mah-pWNwQrisBatBCXTskDY_dqV4LdeO3sy1q2-g5nOT0oEwRg9ubL6cJ912SOifF2Q3oNIjcB_SojwAQLRJgmcj3W9jysYzr1GSAOL4d_B0WlKQc2Mkeby_b6j57oME/s640/NOLA127.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Unfortunately, I didn't do much research on the geography of Katrina's destruction before I visited New Orleans, so a lot of the city's history felt disconnected to me. I really should have looked up the areas of the city that were untouched, damaged, or destroyed, so that I could understand the area better. But I didn't, sadly, and I felt like just a tourist out there to take pictures.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIWxrojN6T3Q7TZZgtDX0T3DumVN0NzN5NI7M1XuERFej_40dTCQHf1sgeIAJ7ZUO2IQ3RjTeSsm93LXLbdbzIM97a5hGGFaX-F5OizVzfFfwrp7o1qHbP8tnxUWdLN3ksSFIPIExdh30/s1600/NOLA130.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIWxrojN6T3Q7TZZgtDX0T3DumVN0NzN5NI7M1XuERFej_40dTCQHf1sgeIAJ7ZUO2IQ3RjTeSsm93LXLbdbzIM97a5hGGFaX-F5OizVzfFfwrp7o1qHbP8tnxUWdLN3ksSFIPIExdh30/s640/NOLA130.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
After dropping off our things at the hotel, we had lunch/dinner on Bourbon Street. Best crab cakes ever.<br />
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Then we explored the French Quarter. This church looks like it belongs in Disney World, doesn't it?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpnUfGyQxz2uNpc6h_rf4s3p-zLJbhRB57GmMyJbV5aV9__CagFV5AMdRd6IhrCNtaByWzU0fQsSVwqQHSNB_e9pPStn4rzaJbwaI5ZXA2Yxp1uBAjIgUYsW_dXlBExf0H_-QNO-YVqNE/s1600/NOLA146.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpnUfGyQxz2uNpc6h_rf4s3p-zLJbhRB57GmMyJbV5aV9__CagFV5AMdRd6IhrCNtaByWzU0fQsSVwqQHSNB_e9pPStn4rzaJbwaI5ZXA2Yxp1uBAjIgUYsW_dXlBExf0H_-QNO-YVqNE/s640/NOLA146.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />
The French Quarter is such a beautiful neighborhood. In parts where the tourists are fewer and farther between, the apartment balconies are full of comfy deck chairs and are covered with hanging potted plants and flower trays. I would love to live somewhere with balconies like that. Someday I will. Though maybe in actual France instead of the French Quarter?<br />
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After exploring the French Quarter all afternoon, we headed back to our hotel for the world's most refreshing power nap. Absolute heaven.<br />
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A day of intense sun, heat and walking everywhere is the fastest way to wear you out completely.<br />
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But after a nap, we were all ready to go out again and check out Bourbon Street at night -- when its true colors shine through.<br />
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So we all got gussied up and went downstairs to ask the hotel clerk where this trolly line was supposed to be located, knowing that we'd be crazy to try driving to Bourbon Street on not just any Saturday night, but the Saturday night when New Orleans is filled to the brim because of the Essence Festival (Essence Magazine is the largest black fashion magazine, and they have this huge awesome music festival every year in New Orleans).<br />
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The hotel clerk gave us directions to the trolly line -- about 6 or 7 blocks that way. Okay, perfect. So we all started walking. It was an empty stretch of blocks, as the hotel was located in a kind of industrial(ish) area. But we were with friends, so no big.<br />
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About two blocks from the hotel, I notice that there is an SUV parked up ahead. I kinda nudge the people around me, and we walk on as opposite side of the sidewalk as possible (which isn't really possible when the sidewalk is only four feet wide). Just as we are past the SUV, we hear a voice and turn around to see a police officer step out of the vehicle.<br />
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Undercover cop, huh?<br />
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"Now, just what are y'all doing out here?" he asks, hiking up his belt.<br />
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A chorus of "Just walking to the trolly station, sir" ensues. There's a bit of a squeak of panic in some of our voices.<br />
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He surveys us with a bit of a sneer. At this point, I'm really confused about what is happening.<br />
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"I can tell y'all aren't from around here, now. Where are y'all staying?"<br />
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We all point to the hotel sign, about two blocks away. More choral responses of "Over there," "Just down that way," etc.<br />
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There's a pause.<br />
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He looks us over.<br />
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Then, without hesitation, he says, "Are y'all drug dealers and prostitutes?"<br />
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Stunned silence.<br />
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"'Cause that's who stays there."<br />
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More stunned silence.<br />
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<i>What is going on?</i><br />
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"Now, this isn't a place where you should be walking. It's dangerous. Are y'all aware that there is a really large black music festival going on this weekend? I just want y'all to be safe."<br />
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I'm in disbelief at the incredibly racist assumptions slipped into that statement and I can't say anything. Excuse me?<br />
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Someone tells the officer that we weren't aware this was a dangerous neighborhood, we're excited about the music festival, we're from out of town, and the guy at the hotel didn't seem to think this was a dangerous route, but thanks for the heads up.<br />
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He just stares back and snickers.<br />
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"In this situation, y'all are what I like to call Moose," he continues. "You stick out here in this neighborhood."<br />
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The officer then promptly flags down a taxi driver (who was magically driving by just then), and we are all trying not to laugh at the absurdity of the exchange at this point.<br />
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We then spend the rest of the taxi drive decompressing and trying to figure out what just happened.<br />
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While part of the exchange was funny ("drug dealers and prostitutes?"), the other part was incredibly sad. To see that kind of racism in real life -- something people talk about but I'd never personally witnessed to such a degree before -- was really unsettling.<br />
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Sadly, I doubt that'll be the last time I see that.<br />
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Our taxi ride took us straight to Bourbon Street, which was incredibly crowded. Already. At 9:30 p.m.<br />
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So much fun.<br />
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The absolute highlight of the night (and maybe of the weekend?) was toward the end of the night, when we heard the Wobble song playing in a nearby club. Having waited all night to do the Wobble, we booked it inside and joined the entire club in dancing the Wobble. We may have been the only white people in the club at the time, and the woman next to me -- about halfway through the dance -- looks at me with some respect and says, "Girl, where'd you learn how to Wobble?"<br />
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I just laughed and shrugged. And danced a bit harder. Couldn't let her down then.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/siqrFpXBvBU" width="560"></iframe><br />
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For those of you who have not yet heard of it ... the Wobble (brought to you by someone's wedding) is above.<br />
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The next morning, after "sleeping in" until 8 a.m., we all piled into our cars and headed to Cafe du Monde for a breakfast of champions -- beignets and coffee.<br />
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So delicious.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And then it was back to Cleveland, Mississippi for Fourth of July shenanigans. Such an awesome weekend.</div>Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-43197626464757406452011-07-07T17:10:00.000-05:002011-07-07T17:10:27.080-05:00My Fourth of July Weekend Part 1: Swamp TourOh, where to begin?<br />
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Three days off -- free of commitment and structure -- was absolute heaven. And while I am 100% in this thing, it was still incredible to spend a solid two days not talking about anything related to Teach For America or our students. Instead, during our five-hour road trip and brief fling in New Orleans, we go tot learn something about each other outside our lives as teachers.<br />
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After school on Friday, many people's Friday nights turned into what the corps members on my floor like to call an FNF. A Friday Night Fail, when you fall asleep when you get home from school and don't wake up until Saturday morning, sleeping through the evening's festivities.<br />
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I wish I'd FNF-ed. I would have felt much more rested on Saturday.<br />
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Saturday morning was the beginning of the weekend adventure. At 5 am, four fellow BamaCorps members and I piled into a couple cars and took a five-hour road trip down to New Orleans.<br />
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First stop was Dr. Wagner's Honey Island Swamp Tours in Slidell, Louisiana.<br />
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So excited to go on our swamp!<br />
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The swamp was actually beautiful. Really beautiful in it's own eery, magical way.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcWpS37f-3Z4sXn5RqTJV2IkYO4hfy4K7HdzUkhyphenhyphent8o3Z7uTkY1Q9bPK2JUmFxnLtedZJvcYl2B2FBlPMcq_X8xhxWfshZU_JxT-IeP6c4tHiobqnrXmB50JwRFkl724EaWBJcRGb93AI/s1600/Swamp183.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcWpS37f-3Z4sXn5RqTJV2IkYO4hfy4K7HdzUkhyphenhyphent8o3Z7uTkY1Q9bPK2JUmFxnLtedZJvcYl2B2FBlPMcq_X8xhxWfshZU_JxT-IeP6c4tHiobqnrXmB50JwRFkl724EaWBJcRGb93AI/s640/Swamp183.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />
It was also fun to learn the history of the area.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkZ52KawIMqILIr4m0R2nxkWOt6tWoF1txZpKXdUYx7uRffWbh_QJRkvCtUZIB_iozDtNTOJyltgHhwCIvAqoiMRADSWA4wrqnh3JV0McaO-cGdhRz4gjJSVjX8ARqLT8fnVToTjtle04/s1600/Swamp52.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkZ52KawIMqILIr4m0R2nxkWOt6tWoF1txZpKXdUYx7uRffWbh_QJRkvCtUZIB_iozDtNTOJyltgHhwCIvAqoiMRADSWA4wrqnh3JV0McaO-cGdhRz4gjJSVjX8ARqLT8fnVToTjtle04/s640/Swamp52.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="640" /></a><br />
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For example, in order to have a house on the swamp, people couldn't just drive to the site and build. Because there are no roads (and in most cases, you are building on some sort of island). So even as far back as the forties and fifties (according to our tour guide), people were putting building materials on a boat, rowing out to their spot, and building from scratch.<br />
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They even built small communities, or "camps," on the water.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWMw-K8LtSvMBoiJh4-ikI0IU1qXbFnp5WA2FZIGVHKu3phtkJMRoK8H5enl0_UmbqP34DBvcPMRMm2RGLuiFGb5QKMi4xR-ZQpH2eLaZTEdbTSKhiGvRzX0gLn3UTlAiQwqN-eEHqmfo/s1600/Swamp73.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWMw-K8LtSvMBoiJh4-ikI0IU1qXbFnp5WA2FZIGVHKu3phtkJMRoK8H5enl0_UmbqP34DBvcPMRMm2RGLuiFGb5QKMi4xR-ZQpH2eLaZTEdbTSKhiGvRzX0gLn3UTlAiQwqN-eEHqmfo/s640/Swamp73.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0c1FJ-qSR2wni-jI40BOxgpYwNI4PjFMa_rLN15Jkys_I8i1a0MaDunsGs98882SPVaPmQ0lihcwsvcnwWgBuHpzicuhu2c-2MfArhujo35negACibcrDqJNy0477qTDAjJqNcB3hanE/s1600/Swamp77.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0c1FJ-qSR2wni-jI40BOxgpYwNI4PjFMa_rLN15Jkys_I8i1a0MaDunsGs98882SPVaPmQ0lihcwsvcnwWgBuHpzicuhu2c-2MfArhujo35negACibcrDqJNy0477qTDAjJqNcB3hanE/s640/Swamp77.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A typical house on the water.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
The funniest part to me were the house boats that some of these people owned.<br />
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Some had the kind of house boat most people picture when they hear those two words.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJgE4veC_gxoQsR3x3GJj3Qoo9giItdb6mHnphyphenhyphenAGmCA8fbibnUsJPCLu03o-Ur5Y2ZuM-i5NyqimnWH5XZAhgtNi-MSrgnJdTfUqLWKtDdUHZ1cQzF4IhCFnUJt9CkF0UWkU7HVhOYWs/s1600/Swamp222.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJgE4veC_gxoQsR3x3GJj3Qoo9giItdb6mHnphyphenhyphenAGmCA8fbibnUsJPCLu03o-Ur5Y2ZuM-i5NyqimnWH5XZAhgtNi-MSrgnJdTfUqLWKtDdUHZ1cQzF4IhCFnUJt9CkF0UWkU7HVhOYWs/s640/Swamp222.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">House boat according to most people</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
And then others had house boats according to the bayou.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxdURybyEjCGndm0Y4Cv2E5sOqgXQDbRsIlpmrc1X5DbC2yyKnnaTuXcSRelXwypvNVPypG1ZUjw-UtrBaSEceN7kghIM1Q5q5UsBU_1jVT8a3EBMprY2ozZfcGoFUSwUp-C39L3UC0wE/s1600/Swamp234.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxdURybyEjCGndm0Y4Cv2E5sOqgXQDbRsIlpmrc1X5DbC2yyKnnaTuXcSRelXwypvNVPypG1ZUjw-UtrBaSEceN7kghIM1Q5q5UsBU_1jVT8a3EBMprY2ozZfcGoFUSwUp-C39L3UC0wE/s640/Swamp234.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn0kg-pFq_mn7qX6Vvap74yeld0ijqMhdx_H35YclVWKMSHoRwpZCYRmOtz_T2J_91K6P0Wwjhm6DrxFppttq0XVAykCh5QBhGHOa0YOIiuVT2Ul2pCw6qJODmq44Xk8EEyIXc2U0mVqY/s1600/Swamp223.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn0kg-pFq_mn7qX6Vvap74yeld0ijqMhdx_H35YclVWKMSHoRwpZCYRmOtz_T2J_91K6P0Wwjhm6DrxFppttq0XVAykCh5QBhGHOa0YOIiuVT2Ul2pCw6qJODmq44Xk8EEyIXc2U0mVqY/s640/Swamp223.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Made out of wood and floating on styrofoam. Some true American ingenuity there.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiybXs_gxIxoiDbDlhJJvky6Dq4goJ-SyIXcc3T8dBYdCWJiRduVifgvgpApVyxDVxKDZe22NE8kufNrm1dwLAL-NM2EWnwI1DhnrKdiwJTAczFLZkN12mGPR7ZpZV6S56pNfCyA0QDjTU/s1600/Swamp97.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiybXs_gxIxoiDbDlhJJvky6Dq4goJ-SyIXcc3T8dBYdCWJiRduVifgvgpApVyxDVxKDZe22NE8kufNrm1dwLAL-NM2EWnwI1DhnrKdiwJTAczFLZkN12mGPR7ZpZV6S56pNfCyA0QDjTU/s640/Swamp97.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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Highlights include seeing three alligators.<br />
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Alligator #1: Baby Gator<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrN_KRf_UkT_bw9z_BrqA-gWW1sjW3SBovJJdBL2waCoErhQo25x5ivNNTaqDrHl8sWv5_ZCZZYpJgYqw-h-2IJ1J1Kr8kAcf2TIq3zIi62XJvdb1jDFYQ0ojcC-KuO3l4uQBBhRgA-9I/s1600/Swamp129.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrN_KRf_UkT_bw9z_BrqA-gWW1sjW3SBovJJdBL2waCoErhQo25x5ivNNTaqDrHl8sWv5_ZCZZYpJgYqw-h-2IJ1J1Kr8kAcf2TIq3zIi62XJvdb1jDFYQ0ojcC-KuO3l4uQBBhRgA-9I/s640/Swamp129.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
He mostly just swam around and chased marsh mellows in the water.<br />
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Alligator #2: El Whoppo, King of the Swamp.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ7iKrEg1x04LovanoGkWVBjbvnwckCECNek5v7XvBNcIe5_HIx8aYkS1w8Gnr3sEygpSi-7laTHstZU3vgFZroYxvHP_55By9-GMKKHA5iugROqNz6vtSAV2GIVmEDbpKGbLP7HO1gSw/s1600/Swamp328.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ7iKrEg1x04LovanoGkWVBjbvnwckCECNek5v7XvBNcIe5_HIx8aYkS1w8Gnr3sEygpSi-7laTHstZU3vgFZroYxvHP_55By9-GMKKHA5iugROqNz6vtSAV2GIVmEDbpKGbLP7HO1gSw/s640/Swamp328.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Homeboy is humongous.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTyBWFGc78ABDbnGBIe8CO2k9o5193WVYE3j66mQSquBo4Dcxbv4ygJJriRXMbD53UF1IphWV1ggGVc6YxSqOtipkIj_MUKy5dti-UhfAV1TU1n09xa6Ngcjx8qaLG_91PJn5PIcS_lyE/s1600/Swamp311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTyBWFGc78ABDbnGBIe8CO2k9o5193WVYE3j66mQSquBo4Dcxbv4ygJJriRXMbD53UF1IphWV1ggGVc6YxSqOtipkIj_MUKy5dti-UhfAV1TU1n09xa6Ngcjx8qaLG_91PJn5PIcS_lyE/s640/Swamp311.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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And kinda looks like a dinosaur (maybe like the top of T-Rex). Am I right?!?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkYrHMV7w2XM47zWNCDVGWNTsTHQdpYanHeIvOQMuIbaaYJ709YBj2tpByiEkAAi6IfxtNrltSddiPwRIrNtHJYKVbAZSXrwAxbNtxVaqPu8amfbrELkHQrDdbditNJ075QPwPzGI-wg0/s1600/Swamp334.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkYrHMV7w2XM47zWNCDVGWNTsTHQdpYanHeIvOQMuIbaaYJ709YBj2tpByiEkAAi6IfxtNrltSddiPwRIrNtHJYKVbAZSXrwAxbNtxVaqPu8amfbrELkHQrDdbditNJ075QPwPzGI-wg0/s640/Swamp334.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
The guide couldn't coerce the man with marsh mellows, so he put hot dogs on a stick and slapped the water with the meet until El Whoppo deigned to grace us with his presence. He devoured five hot dogs. <br />
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Alligator #3: Speed Demon<br />
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This kid snuck up on us.<br />
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Duuuuuuuuuuuun-dun..... Duuuuuuuuuuuuun-dun......<br />
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Dun-dun dun-dun dun-dun!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU3cDPVjmdazE9EI3y_dmP8uGGMKJETKi9sQ6YpQ5oaVLHgQR9Tf1_nsVOcwiRB-f9XOGzIRU0L6jciClT1MYY5TGG4XMxOUo_Ch7Kvwno9TaGt8NRM6q6YPVMw1ZKOIEnRyedmJ08PWs/s1600/NOLA33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU3cDPVjmdazE9EI3y_dmP8uGGMKJETKi9sQ6YpQ5oaVLHgQR9Tf1_nsVOcwiRB-f9XOGzIRU0L6jciClT1MYY5TGG4XMxOUo_Ch7Kvwno9TaGt8NRM6q6YPVMw1ZKOIEnRyedmJ08PWs/s640/NOLA33.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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He was also the most interesting...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1BKgXzqS5IrCiXQm21EXS9L4wGOPVSxRy4UoQfmnC77TbsoAfp3NcR3KfnTfluZykEvCgoNV6DJSCKfK2UBI7HUuqbVFIwoYeNmttbNu8zIQ-dBptXBtvdsHKztQ7kaxhfpjs3zImaY0/s1600/NOLA36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1BKgXzqS5IrCiXQm21EXS9L4wGOPVSxRy4UoQfmnC77TbsoAfp3NcR3KfnTfluZykEvCgoNV6DJSCKfK2UBI7HUuqbVFIwoYeNmttbNu8zIQ-dBptXBtvdsHKztQ7kaxhfpjs3zImaY0/s640/NOLA36.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
...and animated. He did tricks.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAaPY6NuX3l-54DW3pimIYAfvH3y7MGABatjPBBddG1_KwEO-bc6yd6G8vUM0kE1F8YWB4v30Gxf4iwhJo9M8bIOnExbrYwWXyjaBHvqdhCXZVF3j1Nql19LK-L05G86DQ9czWxJTg68w/s1600/NOLA46.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAaPY6NuX3l-54DW3pimIYAfvH3y7MGABatjPBBddG1_KwEO-bc6yd6G8vUM0kE1F8YWB4v30Gxf4iwhJo9M8bIOnExbrYwWXyjaBHvqdhCXZVF3j1Nql19LK-L05G86DQ9czWxJTg68w/s640/NOLA46.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rising on his hind legs (or tail?) to reach the hot dog above.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
And he doled out the death glare to all.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMtOrBIQ2cs8ddhZlLaINshW9ODxtfy2E-EkhWxS4VdObB5QiKKRVpNHF9uMsZCg6MPE81rM2FlBLTfNqT_KYCk-BGsVcX8NfjaHFp1JcgaY7pxKvLjyjABI4z9O-Van7B9R9mXM1OInM/s1600/NOLA77.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMtOrBIQ2cs8ddhZlLaINshW9ODxtfy2E-EkhWxS4VdObB5QiKKRVpNHF9uMsZCg6MPE81rM2FlBLTfNqT_KYCk-BGsVcX8NfjaHFp1JcgaY7pxKvLjyjABI4z9O-Van7B9R9mXM1OInM/s640/NOLA77.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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And everyone on the boat took a crap-ton of pictures.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0qmoPZa4kvYZVGS0f19TlU1Z2afUna6Mr9HbDq3YROICGnBCXu3k865wCMTv2_0wsNajxBeo-xy-D6A85gvsrOhDGDt16uODL-fETPJIkxWLsnFm2k2WBU11OdGehld3_MJtXYPwqppw/s1600/Swamp363.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0qmoPZa4kvYZVGS0f19TlU1Z2afUna6Mr9HbDq3YROICGnBCXu3k865wCMTv2_0wsNajxBeo-xy-D6A85gvsrOhDGDt16uODL-fETPJIkxWLsnFm2k2WBU11OdGehld3_MJtXYPwqppw/s640/Swamp363.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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After the alligators, the exciting parts of the tour were over. But we floated around, admiring nature and appreciating the weird awesomeness of swamp geography.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgahR1uwt051hb7KqfwA-p469JG-2ERYBhnZy592-q6Tou7DfzBWYrF7Jyl5BhIj-_176e9rlI7IA8BymtsoxfiYDalgNnr0Tp3QgHNnbardbDSUYPqLjrgg8wl9RtUsG4XmqnZuTnXrUs/s1600/Swamp171.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgahR1uwt051hb7KqfwA-p469JG-2ERYBhnZy592-q6Tou7DfzBWYrF7Jyl5BhIj-_176e9rlI7IA8BymtsoxfiYDalgNnr0Tp3QgHNnbardbDSUYPqLjrgg8wl9RtUsG4XmqnZuTnXrUs/s640/Swamp171.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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It was one of the best tours I've ever been on, and well worth the five-hour drive down.<br />
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But wait! That wasn't all we did while in Louisiana.... Stay tuned for more later! (Promise I wont wait a bajillion years for the next post)Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-41401113453683851942011-07-01T23:01:00.002-05:002011-07-01T23:01:34.099-05:00Headed to the BayouI don't want to spoil anything for my upcoming post, but I'm about to head south for my Fourth of July weekend -- to New Orleans. The agenda includes a swamp tour (hopefully some alligator wrestling. Or eating. Or both.) and an afternoon/night exploring New Orleans. Should be crazy. And crazy fun. Stay tuned!Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-71385420731926972712011-07-01T10:55:00.000-05:002011-07-01T22:55:32.493-05:00Shameless RequestDear Friends, Family, and Complete Strangers,<br />
<br />
This is a shameless request for written notes of encouragement, via mail, email or Facebook. Institute is challenging and draws every ounce of determination from me. It's an emotional roller coaster, often determined solely by the mood of my students and the success of my lesson for the day. <br />
<br />
I need some encouragement. <br />
<br />
Would you mind sending me something?<br />
<br />
Love,<br />
Discouraged Teacher<br />
<br />
P.S. If you send me a message, I can give you my mailing address here at Institute.Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-70202592236877826192011-06-30T22:43:00.000-05:002011-07-01T22:56:21.983-05:00Louder and Slower. Repeat.Some days when teaching, I just can't seem to be able to explain the objective of the day to my students. It refuses to doesn't click with them. Like my Monday, trying to explain how to use a ruler. Either the kids are turning off their brains for the day as a collective whole, or I can't break it down enough or can't articulate another explanation well enough -- or just flat out can't remember my math (like today, I blanked and couldn't remember how to turn a percentage into a fraction. Whoops!).<br />
<br />
The hardest part of teaching math is in the basics, really. It's easier to explain the how than the why -- always. Like, why is the formula for an equilateral triangle A="s" squared divided by 3 x square root of 3?<br />
<br />
I actually have no idea. But I can plug in those numbers like nobody's business.<br />
<br />
And why does 30/100 = 30%? <br />
<br />
No idea either. And apparently, based on today, I don't know the How on that one either.<br />
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Most of the time I feel like one of those stereotypically rude American tourists who, when they find that someone can't understand them because of a language barrier, decide that the best way to be understood is just to repeat exactly the same thing again, only louder and slower.<br />
<br />
Louder and slower. <br />
<br />
Using my best teacher voice. Fighting to ignore the bewildered eyes and concerned expressions.<br />
<br />
And then I grade those assessments or mini-tests, and my heart sinks. 0/3. 0/3, 1/3. Ten percent mastery of the objective. Zero percent master of the objective. There are few worse sensations of disappointment than realizing that the last hour of struggle -- an hour of consequence cards, dry-erase marker races, giant attitudes in tiny bodies, and countless explanations of the difference between fourths and eights on a ruler -- was all in vain. And I'll have to re-teach the objective entirely.<br />
<br />
Blah. <br />
<br />
It makes those days of 80% mastery look like bliss. Feel like bliss. And those are the days I hold on to. Yesterday was a zero percent mastery day. Today was a 90% mastery day. And hopefully tomorrow will follow suit. <br />
<br />
But I never know. <br />
<br />
In teaching, I can bring my A game every day and still get less than awesome results. It's never the same day. Never. My inputs don't directly relate to my outputs, and I could honestly teach the same thing, verbatim, from Day 1 to Day 2 and get different results each day.<br />
<br />
Because in the distance between my brain and their brains, knowledge has to fight hundreds of factors -- from sleepiness to empty stomachs to sheer boredom to the biggest, most anguished middle school attitudes I've ever seen. That's some pretty stiff competition for attention. <br />
<br />
At the very least though, I can always say that those kids sure do keep me on my toes. No rocking back and resting in this profession. It just isn't possible if you want to be good.Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-69268165533872268822011-06-29T11:37:00.001-05:002011-06-29T11:38:17.410-05:00What Teachers Make<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/RxsOVK4syxU" width="425"></iframe>Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-48946279018093566752011-06-24T10:39:00.001-05:002011-06-24T10:42:29.111-05:00You Know You're at Institute When...1. Waking up at 5:30 a.m. is sleeping in.<br />
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2. Your backpack, straining at the seams, is twice as wide as you are.<br />
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3. Averaging four hours of sleep a night is standard.<br />
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4. You debate if eating at lunch at 10:00 a.m. is too early.<br />
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5. You talk in acronyms. "During my ODC, my CMA talked about my INM during my AIT."<br />
<br />
6. Everyone understands your acronyms.<br />
<br />
7. TFA-speak is common and overflows into your normal lives.<br />
<br />
"If I plan to be married by the time I'm 25, then I'm going to need to backward plan to make sure that happens."<br />
<br />
"In the spirit of partnership and community, please use some urgency while in the shower. It's my turn."<br />
<br />
8. We consider using behavior narration on people we know .<br />
<br />
"I see that Becca's boyfriend bought her flowers. Kelly's boyfriend bought her flowers for no reason. Erica's boyfriend buys her gifts."<br />
<br />
(Note: Behavior narration will definitely be getting it's own post sometime soon.)<br />
<br />
9. People talk about their students constantly, in all settings, and refer to them as their kids.<br />
<br />
10. Dark rooms and comfortable chairs are to be avoided at all times when awake. Otherwise you wont be anymore.Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-27417189609621043112011-06-23T01:07:00.000-05:002011-06-23T01:07:49.672-05:00Teacher Moment of the WeekThis week's Teacher Moment is brought to you by the seedy world of insects, out to destroy classrooms one whiteboard at a time.<br />
<br />
There are bugs everywhere here.<br />
<br />
EVERYWHERE.<br />
<br />
If you think you are safe from mosquitos because you're inside, you are wrong. And don't think that the cockroaches and spiders wont find you. They can sense your fear. Even the bug truck that comes around campus at night, spraying toxic bug repellent into the air to ward off the swarms of mosquitos (literally swarms -- big black clouds of them) cannot keep them away for long.<br />
<br />
Yesterday in class, I had my teacher moment.<br />
<br />
The class was pretty well-behaved for the day. I'd shut down the trouble-maker early, and he was participating along with the rest of the group. Point for me.<br />
<br />
I had them sitting quietly and listening to me as I wrapped up my lesson for the day (I think we were learning about order of operations). While I was wrapping up some of my last thoughts, Ms. H started writing her objective on the board for her class, which was next. The students naturally were paying attention to her and not me, which was fine since she was moving more than me. Law of physics or something.<br />
<br />
Anyway, suddenly Ms. H squeals and takes a fast step backward. The peace was broken as students started pointing, laughing and squealing about the spider on the board. Turning, I looked for the little punk who was about to destroy my hard-earned silent class.<br />
<br />
It was just a daddy long leg. A rather large one, mind you (leg span of a silver dollar), but just a daddy long leg.<br />
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Normally I hate killing insects. But I have my priorities. So without thinking -- and with only one thing on my mind (regaining order) -- I stepped up and with one swing smacked the spider with the palm of my hand.<br />
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Turning back to the class as I brushed the insect off my palm, I resumed without skipping a beat.<br />
<br />
"As I was saying..."<br />
<br />
You should have seen their faces. Pure gold.<br />
<br />
Ms. D -- 1; Spider, Destroyer of Hard-Earned, Well-Behaved Classroom -- 0.<br />
<br />
It was a good day.Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-90736546599740651752011-06-22T00:49:00.002-05:002011-06-22T00:52:15.166-05:00Teaching with UrgencyAssessments are completed. Our students -- going into ninth grade -- are reading at a 5th grade level on average. They passed barely 30% of their math assessment. Science isn't looking good either.<br />
<br />
When we got those numbers, a fellow teacher on my team and I couldn't help but tear up. My tears were mostly from anger. I am so angry that someone let these students pass from grade to grade without mastering the basics -- or even without teaching them the basics in the first place.<br />
<br />
It breaks my heart.<br />
<br />
Their student surveys also break my heart -- and make me determined to fight with everything I have to help them reach their growth goals this summer.<br />
<br />
These students want to be lawyers, nurses, and athletes. And when they asked what they'd do if they won the lottery, the majority of students said things like "I'd pay my mom's medical bills," "I'd buy a house," and "I've give to charity" (often to the homeless).<br />
<br />
My students are thinking about huge issues and dealing with things every day that I never had to deal with as an eighth grader. And yet their altruism, even in imaginary circumstances, makes me so proud to be their teacher for a short while.<br />
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It also gives me an intense sense of determination and urgency. I have 17 days to push these students to reach not only their tangible growth goals but also tap into their imaginations and learn to see their dreams as a realizable future.<br />
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Now, more than ever, do I wish there were 36 or 48 or 60 hours in a day. I need that time!Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922344652845351920.post-27297410872806511082011-06-20T23:58:00.001-05:002011-06-21T00:00:43.007-05:00Inspiration from the Times, with a Healthy Dose of Lesson PlanningA huge thanks to my friend Madison for passing this article, "<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/31/opinion/31brooks.html">It's Not About You</a>," on to me today. Just when I need encouragement the most, my amazing support system at home pulls out something new for me. I'm one lucky gal, I tell ya.<br />
<br />
My favorite quote from the article is:<br />
"Most people don’t form a self and then lead a life. They are called by a problem, and the self is constructed gradually by their calling."<br />
<br />
So inspiring.<br />
<br />
I hope that at the end of this two-year journey as a teacher in the Black Belt of Alabama, I'll have the beginnings of a fulfilling life -- shaped by this immense challenge and the sense of purpose it gives me.<br />
<br />
This is what keeps me going at 11:53 p.m., with two hours left of work and a 5:15 a.m. wake-up call.<br />
<br />
Lord help us all.<br />
<br />
P.S. I love my kids. All headstrong sixteen of them. Aside from being a handful in the management category, we asked them all what they want to be what they grow up. The answers? Nurses, Lawyers, Teachers, Professional Athletes. I couldn't be more excited to push them toward those goals. It's never to early to start preparing for those dreams.Virginiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12428916229503765550noreply@blogger.com0