back in the pool

There is nothing like a diving into a cold pool to wake you up. It jars the body with the sensation of cold and wet and stimulates the mind with blue and surprise and consciousness. But soon after you acclimate to the watery world and swim gracefully (or not so) in the chilly water.

Last week, I dived into school. On Monday, I felt the freneticism of trying complete my list of things to do before instruction began and to locate documents and materials. On Wednesday, half of our staff had brief discussion on race and equity. And while this is important to consider as we teach, I generally find these process-driven discussions unsatisfying and frustrating, as they do not come to some concrete and helpful conclusions. On Thursday, I had the satisfaction of accomplishment when a colleague and I did our part to beautify the school by putting up colorful bulletin board paper and taking down old, tattered posters. On Friday I was disheartened by the dysfunctionality of my district: a newly arrived Special Education teacher was unable to set up his classroom as children from the child care center were still using his room, the child care teacher had yelled at him and thrown objects against the wall, the director was no where to be found, his furniture had been brought from his former school and lost, and the district had not disclosed the transfer of the class until spring even though it was in the works for two years. I thought, No wonder parents lose faith public schools. But this was all before any students arrived.

Today was first day of teaching after a year-long sabbatical (14 months of rest actually). It was exhausting. I wonder how I will continue to have energy for this as I age. But it was wonderful to reconnect with children and parents, who were so happy I had come back to them. And I felt fortunate (and proud) to work with a great group of professionals, who in nearly every classroom, managed their students well. So while the water was cold and arresting, I am glad to work to earn my keep, but more importantly to contribute to the edification of our culture.

Francis' Pix

My godchild has been collecting old cameras and taking photos with them, especially his holga. I am sharing some of his images below. I find them playful, delightful and inspirational, stirring up the creative juices. Watch for his name in the future: Francis R. Gonzales.

I love the evocative quality of this image.

Test, one, two, three, test.

I am uploading my first video. I took forever (30+ minutes) but it was successful. Click play to see Mariah's video of her brothers ice skating at the Embarcadero Skating Rink December 2007

obstacles

Today, while checking on the status of our computer lab, I found out that outside computers can't use the wireless router at school to access the internet in order to block students' access to inappropriate sites. We throw out the baby with the bathwater. Not only are we behind in having state of the art technology, we are stymied if we bring in our own hardware.

promises to myself post-sabbatical

While our official reporting day to school is Wednesday, August 19, I will be returning on Monday to set up my office and go through my materials. While my sabbatical has been a wonderful blessing, the biggest challenge for me is to keep the hours I put into my job to a reasonable amount. Even when I do get home, I am often emotionally and physically spent to be of little use for the rest of evening.

The other day I wrote a small, idealistic list of promises to incorporate what I learned from my sabbatical into my daily working life. We'll see how I do:

• Pray
• Excercise
• Take time to be creative
• Take time to do nothing
• Connect meaningfully with someone
• Keep balanced work hours: 7:30-5:00.
• Stretch myself

King Tut Exhibit

Last night I went to the King Tut Exhibit at the de Young Museum with some friends. Apparently it was brought to San Francisco with great expense, thus the increase in ticket prices for the show: $27.50 for non-members, $ 25.00 for members. The advertisements, the careful reconfiguration of the museum and the timed entrances portend that this is art show to see in San Francisco this year. The parcel check is posted outside the museum, there is a separate counter set up for the purchase of King Tut tickets, there are areas cordoned off for people waiting in line to get in, and your are forewarned to get your audio guide before you enter the first hall. But ultimately, the show was disappointing, mostly because the fireworks around the entire show seem greater than the substance of the exhibit itself.

The purchasers of the 7:00 show were brought into a dark room where a short video by Omar Sharif was presented. At its conclusion, the doors automatically opened to the first hall. It was as if I entering the Disneyland ride to the Haunted Mansion. The exhibit had text labels below eye-level and above eye-level in LARGE font, I presume for the large crowds that come during the day. But the text that usually accompanies exhibits upon entering a room seemed to lack substance; it was much more spare compared to previous exhibits presented. The artifacts were gorgeous and beautiful: there is a the sarcophagus of Tijuya, Tutankhamon's great grandmother, and the detail and goldsmithing on the small vicera coffinette was amazing. My main critique is that while the entire show is thematically presented rooms with Egyptian hieroglyphics and large images of the desert, the substance of the show seemed sparse. I imagined that the show would have Tutankhamon's beautiful death mask displayed in the 70s (apparently it is considered as a National Treasure of Egypt and no longer travels) ; my friend Yoriko expected to see his mummified body. Comparatively, the Chihuly exhibit seemed more dense and substantial with many more peices of art, explanations, and film. I was glad I attended after 5:00, where tickets for members are $15 (Tut at Twilight) and viewed the entire show in a little over an hour while not having to brave impinging crowds.

**********

Kalin's drawings:

Hector

Kalin and Yoriko (mommy)

Vinyl Memories

“Eso ya es un vicio”*

That is what my mother would tell me after coming back with an LP vinyl record after coming back from town when I was in my early 20s. She was referring to the fact that every time I would go into Fresno, I would come back with at least one LP. Since we didn’t get a record player until we were in our late teens, I figured it was justified to try to catch up on music we never owned. Additionally, I was in my first years of having a steady income, so I had disposable income. But my mother viewed my purchasing habit as developing into an uncontrolled impulse. Her admonition had the impact of my being more conscientious and judicious of my music purchases.

*******

“Ya llévense sus discos porque me voy a deshacer del gabinete.”**

My mother announced this to my brothers and me this past spring. My parents had long since disposed of the stereo we had since the late 80s. The tuner worked, but the turntable was in constant need of a needle, the speakers worked intermittently, and the cassette players ate magnetic tape. It had become a dust collector and some 10 years ago they had got rid of it.

There was no longer any means of playing the LPs, so it was understandable that my mother would want to rid herself of belongings that didn’t pertained to her. The LPs, which were possibly evidence of an addiction in the 80s, were was now dusty obstructions in the 00s. Additionally, I have felt that it is not my parents’ responsibility to hold on to their children’s belongings long after they have moved away. Some years ago my mother pointed out that I still had art materials stashed away behind the china cabinet: illustration board, frames, mat board, and artwork. I took some home with me but I also got rid of materials I didn’t foresee using. What was the point of holding on to stuff that no one was going to use?

So it was with due diligence that I sorted out the LPs that belonged to me from those of my siblings. It demonstrated who I was (and still am), my tastes and how they had changed since then: Supertramp, Spandau Ballet, Manhattan Transfer, Little River Band, Styx, Cat Stevens, Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, the Best of Peter, Paul and Mary, Neil Diamond, Sade, Jesus Christ Superstar, Joseph and the Amazing, Technicolor Coat, Barbara Streisand’s Yentl, Rhino Record’s Christmas Classics, Billy Joel, Billy Joel, Billy Joel.

The music reminded me of the late 80s and the persons associated with it. Jesus Christ Superstar was used as a text during Lent by cool Mr. Weber in my Catholic elementary school. Supertramp’s Breakfast in America was wonderful music that came out when I was in high school. Bobby Rodriguez, my roommate in my first year in college, had introduced me to the Boss. Billy Joel and Sade were hot when I was at St. John’s Seminary. I still remember Ernie Fimbres when I hear Manhattan Transfer’s Wacky Dust. The films Yentl and Tootsie were painful reminders were protagonists had to hide themselves (and their love) behind personas. There was also a large two-volume set of Las joyas de la música, classical and soft contemporary music, given to me by my Tía Armida, who has since died. I took it all home to San Francisco with me, not exactly sure what I would do with them. They ended up as a small pile in my living room while I traveled.

Last month, when George and I were steam cleaning the carpet, I decided that I needed a place for the LPs. I could take them to my bedroom, where they would collect dust. I could take them to the basement, wrapped in plastic, but the humidity there would probably cause mold and fungus to grow on the records. But the central question was whether I had planned to use and enjoy these records. I didn’t see myself buying a turntable; I am so used to the convenience of my CD player or my iTunes. So what would I do with them, even as memories were associated with them and I didn’t have some of the music in any other format other than in an LP? This is a constant contemporary challenge: as new modes of storage are developed what other formats become obsolete. I still have music cassettes and I have a boombox and a car where I can play them, but I rarely do. At school last week, I found a nearly new box of floppy disk drives, now everything is on flash drives.

I decided that it was best to have others enjoy the music than have them sit in my attic, my basement or any other part of my house. I really felt badly about getting rid of my Tía Armida’s Las joyas de la música as she had specifically given them to me. To rid myself of them felt like I was dishonoring her memory. But I figured that she would have wanted me to enjoy the music, not store the LPs somewhere. And if I couldn’t enjoy them then someone else could, and I would be complying with the spirit of her gift.

I took them to Streetlight Records in the Castro. From 3 canvas bags full of LPs and after checking for their condition, they accepted only about 25 LPs for which I got $10. What was I going to do with the rest of the LPs? I guess I could put them on line (Craigslist or ebay) but I was ready to part with them. I ended up dropping them off (some 75 of them) at the Friends of the San Francisco Public Library, where they would be sold to raise money for the public library. While I didn’t get any money for them, I was happy that someone (I hope) would get joy from listening to them. What was once perhaps evidence of shopaholism was now sitting in a warehouse ready to be sorted and displayed. And memories associated with these artifacts would become a little less tangible but no less real.

*That is now an addiction.

**Take your records because I am going to get rid of this entertainment center.

August 8, 2009

making aRt wherever you can

a simple delight is to make art wherever and from whatever you can. here are some examples from after having lunch at La Taqueria yesterday in San Francisco.

a paper rose

a house on fire