tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77158547680978886262024-02-19T02:44:19.350-08:0014monthsWhat I learned in grad school, digestingAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.comBlogger60125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-71943189667271462302009-03-16T13:13:00.000-07:002009-03-16T13:16:00.806-07:00Stand By Me...<object width="340" height="285"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Us-TVg40ExM&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Us-TVg40ExM&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="340" height="285"></embed></object>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-16741628000255118892009-03-04T18:26:00.000-08:002009-03-04T18:29:57.983-08:00The Future Called...Many thanks to Natalie, friend and Uber-Techie Teacher, for sharing this video. Consider this, have you blocked the future? (Follow her on Twitter: <a href="http://twitter.com/mswojo">mswojo</a>)<div><br /></div><div>And how will you right that wrong?</div><br /><object width="445" height="364"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/kra_z9vMnHo&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/kra_z9vMnHo&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"></embed></object>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-40308192403747886812009-03-03T21:09:00.000-08:002009-03-03T21:38:58.804-08:00My Online LifeI am convinced that I haven't blogged in so long because of MICROblogging. Yeah, you read right... I wrote MICROblogging. <div><br /></div><div>In case you've been living under a rock for the past few months, or, actually, you have a REAL LIFE, and don't spend as much time in front of a computer as I do, there is this <a href="http://www.twitter.com">Twitter</a> thing that I tried out on a whim, abandoned, then realized it might be good for something, and has now become this weird amalgamation of things I love and am interested in. </div><div><br /></div><div>About 2 or 3 months ago, <a href="http://www.twitter.com">Twitter</a> was, for the most part, a domain of pseudo-nerds like myself. I saw it simply... I wrote 140 characters worth of what was going on in my life (things like, "I'm reading for tomorrow's class", "I'm writing a paper", or "I'm ignoring the sink full of dirty dishes"- inane stuff like that.) It creeped me out that folks were "following" me (yeah, that's really what they call it) and I didn't know who they were. I wanted more of my friends to be on Twitter, but I couldn't really see the need for it. After all, I was already on <a href="http://www.facebook.com">FaceBook</a>. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then, I realized something... Folks were following me, and I could follow my friends, but WHO ELSE COULD I FOLLOW? It all started with the New York Times, then specific NYT columnists (<a href="http://twitter.com/Pogue">David Pogue</a> and <a href="http://twitter.com/nytimeskristof">Nicholas Kristof</a>; I've e-mailed <a href="http://topics.nytimes.com/top/opinion/editorialsandoped/oped/columnists/davidbrooks/index.html">David Brooks</a> urging him to tweet as well), and then tech guru types (like <a href="http://twitter.com/rww">ReadWriteWeb</a>.) There are the politicians (yes, Barack Obama, who I was following on Twitter before November, and <a href="http://twitter.com/GavinNewsom">Gavin Newsom</a>, who follows me back.) There are crafty types, like the <a href="http://twitter.com/ravelrystatus">Ravelry</a> and <a href="http://twitter.com/Etsy">Etsy</a> folks, and (newly added) the <a href="http://twitter.com/YarnHarlot">Yarn Harlot</a>! I considered following Jimmy Fallon, but I think he's just the flavor of the week right now...</div><div><br /></div><div>All that namedropping to say that I haven't taken a moment to sit and write paragraphs because I'm too busy reading folks' 140 character updates and writing my own (which you can follow on FaceBook- my Twitter updates directly to FB.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh well.</div><div><br /></div><div>But check out Twitter, even if you only use it as a newsfeed...</div><div><br /></div><div>Off to see what excitement my "friends" are up to this Tuesday night!</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-33025513015613164242009-03-01T23:19:00.000-08:002009-03-01T23:22:29.853-08:00<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://trainhorns.net/sound/"><img src="http://trainhorns.net/sound/img/passed.png" alt="Train Horns" /></a><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;">Created by <a href="http://trainhorns.net/">Train Horns</a></p><p>Believe it or not, all those years of loud music (and I mean in the present, too, not just the past) haven't affected my hearing. This explains several things, like why I'm being driven crazy right now by the reverb my iPhone is giving the stereo... So, can you hear it? </p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-79376630710521866402009-03-01T22:42:00.000-08:002009-03-01T22:54:36.650-08:00Yes, time really does fly...Is it really March 1st? And has it been forever since I've blogged? Yes, it is, and yes, it has. <div><br /></div><div>Time really does fly.</div><div><br /></div><div>I often look at time and its passage this way:</div><div>The more time passes in my life, the less of a percentage each minute/hour/day is of the whole, thus making each subsequent minute/hour/day shorter by the, uh, minute. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, 'scuse this short entry. I'm just warming up, really.</div><div><br /></div><div>More later, stay tuned... (oops, there went another minute...)</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-68058528265886944312008-11-12T22:30:00.000-08:002008-11-12T23:39:03.337-08:00In grave danger of growing, or, on being 40, a mom, wife, and grad student, part 2<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This is a two-fer. That means that I am writing this blog post AND using it for an assignment that's due today (nevermind that today is almost over.) Get it? A two-fer... as in "two fer the price of one."</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Here goes...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We read "IN GRAVE DANGER OF GROWING: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">OBSERVATIONS ON THE PROCESS OF PROFESSIONAL DEVELOPMENT" (Charles Seashore, Washington, D.C., June, 1975) and I was surprised to find that some of my cohort-mates found it depressing. I, personally, found it validating and freeing in many ways.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This article, which explores the reasons, perils, and pitfalls of folks entering into intensive academic programs (yeah, those are professional development, too), was spot on in many ways for me. First of all, it spoke about the family issue. This is something I ranted about back in June upon completing my first week of grad school (</span><a href="http://14mos.blogspot.com/2008/06/on-being-almost-40-mom-wife-and-grad.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">On being almost-40, a mom, wife, and grad student</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">) Now I look back and consider how much that's been ratcheted up by the additions of my full-time job, my eldest back in school, my youngest back in speech, and the impending (damn, how did those sneak up?) holidays. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In all seriousness, though, it's not just the fact that I'm trying to keep life as normal as possible for my family (O.K., those Saturday classes and every Monday and Wednesday nights are REALLY starting to cut into quality time with my brood), it's the fact that this program has forced not just me to change, but everyone close to me. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"...these close </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">friends and family are also forced to re-experience some ways that they had become dependent upon the partner turned student, and thus face up to the discombobulating notion that they might have to grow and change, too — all because of that crazy program."</span></span></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Before I entered this program, there was some talk with friends about my husband having to learn to take over a lot more because I just wouldn't be able to do it anymore. Now, in all honesty, I hadn't thought about that as being a part of a change effort, just as part of a coping method, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">a temporary coping method</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. But now I see that this may be a more long-term change, and hooray for that, because I always needed help with the laundry and the dishes! It's not just that, though. My family has had to learn to get along without me for hours and hours, some of those hours long Saturdays when I'm in class. And, I'm happy to report, they are honestly doing just fine. They are happy and healthy and getting to know each other really well, and I am realizing that, yikes, maybe they CAN live without me (sniff.)</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I suppose this will be something I go through constantly as my children grow and become more independent. I'm just thinking that I wasn't supposed to go through these feelings while they are the tender ages of 4 and 7. I guess you can't start preparing for the empty nest too early.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But I digress. This article included the Menninger Morale Curve, but, being the tech-head that I am, I found one that fit me a whole lot better online:</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img src="webkit-fake-url://FD3C4D73-EB6B-4B13-B3B5-637EE84E7939/Picture-1.jpg" alt="Picture-1.jpg" /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://www.canyonspringsconsulting.com/articles.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">http://www.canyonspringsconsulting.com/articles.html</span></span></a></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I've been to the land of Uninformed Optimism already, had a brief stop in Informed Pessimism, have definitely overstayed Crisis: Checking Out, and feel I am now moving toward Hopeful Realism. (I really hope that this is a straight shot with no detours, but I truly doubt it.) Granted, I'm behind in my papers and have just changed the topic for my thesis project (uh, yeah, I know, it's November) and am paying </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">handsomely</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> for checking out, but I had to live my life, and have fun... right?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Seashore gives his recommendations for what should be provided in a well-designed program:</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Informed Consent</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> and S</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">upports for Growth Among the Student's Family and Friends</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">: Well, I think I've had these. I mean, I talked at length with hubby about what this would mean to our family, and we agreed together that it was the right time. I still feel it is the right time. However, I experienced quite a bit of anxiety before the program began not knowing how much work would be involved. I also didn't know how this would affect my family and was hell-bent on making sure it would be as normal as possible for them. I think that more support for "non-traditional" students like myself is needed by folks who are in similar situations. I'm definitely going to look into creating a support group for folks with kids trying to balance this program...<br /><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Faculty Awareness</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Available Support System</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, and </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Appreciation and Tolerance for Craziness</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">: (disclaimer: I am not trying to score points here) My program does all of these really well, and that is why we stick with it and make it work, no matter how much we have to do. The faculty are beyond aware, they are even a little psychic, if you ask me, and remain very flexible and understanding. They encourage collaboration, which is the one thing that has saved my ass on more than one occasion. They also do that appreciation and tolerance for craziness thing very well. Now, it could be that they are in the business of education around education. Dunno... all I know is that it's working for me. I love my program, have since Day One, and if I didn't love it, I wouldn't be up 'til all hours doing all this.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Most importantly, Seashore's sixth recommendation for a well-designed program:</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Realistic but High Expectations for Professional Competence: Most definitely. I am challenged, but not to the point of frustration. I am growing, but not at an insanely fast pace. I am changing, but it's more like a doable evolution.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So, this wasn't so much of a rant... more like a celebration. See, I really am on my way to Hopeful Realism. Maybe.</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-49731750931561850602008-11-08T08:02:00.000-08:002008-11-09T09:30:42.009-08:00The Racial Contract and Our Country's First Black President<blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote>Last night, I was lucky enough to see <a href="http://www.philosophy.northwestern.edu/people/mills.htm">Professor Charles Mills</a> of Northwestern speak on his book <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Racial-Contract-Charles-W-Mills/dp/0801484634">"The Racial Contract"</a>. He started off speaking about how philosophy is the only area of study that doesn't require research; how university presidents love mathematicians and philosophers because mathematicians require only a pencil, a pad of paper, and a wastepaper basket while philosophers don't even need the wastepaper basket. He then spoke of the dearth of folks of color in philosophy; that if there were a convention of Black philosophers, they'd have to travel in separate planes because if one plane went down, and there were several Black philosophers on it, there would be a significant percentage lost. OK, yes, I was expecting a somewhat dry speech on the racial contract, and was pleasantly surprised that it was nothing like that.<div><br /></div><div>So, what is the racial contract, you ask? In all honesty, I'm still wrapping my head around it, but it goes something like this: The racial contract is an unspoken agreement amongst all in society that keeps white folk on top and the rest below. Folks of color are considered "subpersons". All white folk are beneficiaries of this contract, although not all are signatories. Depending on where you stand on this deep, philosophical stuff, this racial contract (along with the sexual contract) takes the place of Rousseau's social contract. </div><div><br /></div><div>This morning I read <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Willie_Lewis_Brown,_Jr.">Willie Brown</a>'s column (<a href="http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2008/11/09/BAFS140BQA.DTL&hw=willie+world&sn=003&sc=563">"Willie's World"</a>) in the Chron where he espoused on the thrilling of minority workers by the election of Obama. Toward the end, he wrote:</div><div></div><blockquote><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">All I can say is, we started out with the promise of 40 acres and a mule. What did we end up with?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">A White House.</span></div></blockquote><div>Well put, but according to Professor Mills, we must stop looking at it that way. To paraphrase, we must stop looking at it like "look how far we've come since Jim Crow". So true. Let's set our sights higher. Let's TRULY KNOW AND BELIEVE that all children, no matter their color, can achieve...</div><div><br /></div><div>So, how do things change now that our president-elect is a Person of Color? Well, I didn't mention that <a href="http://education.washington.edu/cme/Leonardo.htm">Zeus Leonardo</a> was there too and I feel that he said it best when he said that now the racial contract has not been voided, but must now be revised. I also agree with the head of my program who said, "It's not the revolution, but it is revolutionary." Amen. </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-80850075977070491392008-11-06T14:15:00.000-08:002008-11-09T09:31:51.677-08:00Dear President-Elect Obama,<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Congratulations on becoming the next leader of the free world. You have inspired hope in so many, including myself. Thank you.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">In your acceptance speech, you asked us to "summon a new spirit of patriotism; </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">of service and responsibility where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves, but each other." I know that you are being asked to do a lot of things, to be a miracle worker. We all need to work hard with you to see the change we are so desperately hoping for. I realize you are one person, but so am I, so is my husband, my brother, my neighbor, my friend. If we all work together, as we did to bring about this historic presidency, we will see change. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">With this in mind, with the hope I feel in my heart, and the belief I have in transformation through hard work and reflection, I pledge to:</span></span></div><div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">continue loving, supporting, and nurturing my children- helping them with their homework, teaching them lessons when they need it, reading them bedtime stories- in essence, to be completely involved in their lives.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">when budget and availability allow, buy locally and/or organically, and always purchase consciously.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">become a community organizer of sorts, no matter how small the task. </span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">continue to be involved in my eldest son's elementary school.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">continue to fight for equitable practices in public schools- this means I will continue to question our assessment system, our modes of instruction, and NCLB in general. </span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">complete my Masters in Education in a timely manner so that I can get to the real work of changing our educational system. </span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">work harder than I have before for the children of Richmond, California, so that they, too, will be prepared for the everchanging world we live in. </span></li></ul><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I know you have a lot on your plate, but there are some things I think you need to work on sooner rather than later. Please consider:</span></div><div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">the educational system</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">the healthcare system</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">the economy</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Darfur, the Congo, Tibet</span></li></ul><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Again, thank you. I have an amazing amount of faith in you and the American people. As you said on Tuesday night:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">"...out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can't, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people:<br /><br />Yes We Can."</span></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">God bless you, President-Elect Obama and God bless the entire world, no exceptions.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Sincerely,</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Laurie</span></div></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-87439417454187316362008-11-04T20:01:00.000-08:002008-11-04T20:02:37.313-08:00They just called it...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold;">O-BA-MA!</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 24px; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 24px; font-weight: bold;">O-BA-MA!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 24px; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I am flying...</span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-19709911483336115942008-11-04T18:27:00.001-08:002008-11-04T18:27:28.340-08:00Obama just took Ohio!Gooooooooo Buckeyes!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-58291954098759441772008-11-04T18:19:00.000-08:002008-11-04T18:21:37.235-08:00It's 6:19pm PDT... Election Day...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh1GOWP2fnvVcUjbhDkAIttYOukP-YXC3MQBRPyE8w-dGclxNwMskEhKY8ohTfZYBtdwNl6M3i2yc3wV_dlnp_XrnFdouCTSLA7AA8WxsNJsYN7ALKalU5qaGl3KweDjWxDI4TAhe8xxsC/s1600-h/Picture+2.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 316px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh1GOWP2fnvVcUjbhDkAIttYOukP-YXC3MQBRPyE8w-dGclxNwMskEhKY8ohTfZYBtdwNl6M3i2yc3wV_dlnp_XrnFdouCTSLA7AA8WxsNJsYN7ALKalU5qaGl3KweDjWxDI4TAhe8xxsC/s400/Picture+2.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264992705242553922" /></a>See the map LIVE at <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13px; "><a href="http://www.npr.org/#/president?view=race08">http://www.npr.org/#/president?view=race08</a></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-79556726687961242862008-11-03T22:35:00.000-08:002008-11-09T09:32:19.652-08:00I vote for the children...... because they can't yet.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcV3SMO6P4nmHjhz5ldHbl7b_eMeTRytlKpIPxAbx33HLjUR2c8Idro8RbHTbUcjQ0iBAvcIJVmSo62M-C38rE7oB8mvPsA9OaVtpkY88ug-Veyk9Yxfr9PinFNJtUHVFzAeqg9R22Tucv/s1600-h/mosaic7042983.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcV3SMO6P4nmHjhz5ldHbl7b_eMeTRytlKpIPxAbx33HLjUR2c8Idro8RbHTbUcjQ0iBAvcIJVmSo62M-C38rE7oB8mvPsA9OaVtpkY88ug-Veyk9Yxfr9PinFNJtUHVFzAeqg9R22Tucv/s400/mosaic7042983.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264687616547624466" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-85780324211439183362008-11-03T22:07:00.001-08:002008-11-03T22:17:50.284-08:00Standing on the edgeTonight we are all standing on the edge of we know not what. What we DO know is that it will be historical.<div><br /></div><div>I'm writing this post from that edge, as I stand with all of you. Will we fall into an abyss when we step off into tomorrow, or will we fly? </div><div><br /></div><div>I can tell you this. I have hope. I've never had this kind of hope about something that is so un-personal. In truth, it is personal though, isn't it? This affects everything.</div><div><br /></div><div>I haven't been sleeping well lately. And I think I've been listening to too much NPR. I'm addicted to talk, to that constant flow of information, to that hash, hash, and re-hash that I make so much fun of after football games. I need to hear what everyone has to say. I need to hear it so I can try and figure out what they're thinking. Where is the pulse of America? Who has her or his finger on it? What's it telling us? And is it the true pulse or the one your high school gym teacher told you not to take... you know, when you put your thumb to your wrist and feel a crazy pulse? </div><div><br /></div><div>I have a lot of anxiety about tomorrow. I have a lot of anxiety about what will happen after tonight even if what happens is what I want to happen. </div><div><br /></div><div>I went in to my children's bedroom tonight to check on them. I looked at them and prayed that what happens tomorrow will be the right thing for them and all of their generation. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am posting from the edge. </div><div><br /></div><div>Tomorrow, I hope to be flying.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-71954431295010555902008-10-26T09:43:00.001-07:002008-10-26T12:12:48.205-07:00Running the marathon that is my life...<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; ">So, it's been a while since I've posted. So much has happened- none of it a surprise. I just overplanned myself, that's all...</span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I considered calling this post "running the gauntlet that is my life" but then I looked up <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Running_the_gauntlet">"running the gauntlet"</a> and found that it was just too gruesome to describe something that has been so enjoyable.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; ">Turning 40 and the 80s Dance Partay</span><br /></div><div>The photos really say it all:</div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNHhfbBG4Afi_i4g0PaRsYE5JRL4fFdoCFWUTscPPlrYwoC-Biw25t9wR2hF6Mh1Ie-rLfl1H0O0Q2xH0gJkjsQAQveiduct6s4EqRU9_Px4eKX3UUNfgqkUBWdL8j5VeMKMu5Qnb95l_u/s320/mosaic5821060.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261521112699597314" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px; " /><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3295/2974443241_2432be8933.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 375px; " /><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3223/2975298502_b0498e17c6.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 375px; " /></div><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi92-CHcdZ10bMG0JsYt8F_wRfVuuBUwChCTsuYKKv657CSNxn7904rrxLa-9HdKOOSFe9c28Or9kcDxYFVVcnY0KB_mnMvrGGqE98vVptk8PcGGw6HJsySWSxbCKQXMnxikEugLyyUsHLr/s320/IMG_7736.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261506702528923698" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDedPaevC4Qw4dDG1e6lZkSODxMg7-Gd6SmSJFj9uoVlSOEdvsqfvHPHhXsni-dHZMUFk5lGd29Ov4DXFFizi3DOjB8b0J6P8c6Uk5HAUG-ospbgsU_Eo9ArQoXpko32WnXePfdoz7A2qK/s320/IMG_7750.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261506712188125266" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR399UGTPtSP3m9jNAE49-YdtHz13xdrOsXBg8dpIno8eP4fwI4GGvcA7kO4fXVu5PWVqd9B28r7kL9XG4CpCtohJzbidxMwa9NNiJchrdbOK3sDGWuEdASL_RdultANv8i_axc1WEQjO1/s320/IMG_7814.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261506717038778402" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNCxs0JS0kdZ1NiZIlz_1pJgKrnkP5PR8mn9u0lUQVQPtYbrlvm9ac0cosNT1QtRyfO-AmJIIZ09XJLEkY1lVW0M4GC14D1R8wd9MISMkNhhQORUHz-IzOzkrYMNEPjxiXihZBxtFIcjnF/s320/IMG_7704.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261506739577173058" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGCOUTFZO_P5d36xWfAgv0K_ADYqU4pJcYKsAI-qkAqfav_bHMdMzwjAzXL7KqCd2D5NtTei1v7-4PuI-pKFhliETXLJ5isZXyW1d2KLvvQqXdDU4rhVrLWumb8FHr3iuk9MgUDws0__aw/s320/IMG_7875.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261506725133676162" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>It was so great to have so many friends from all different parts of my life there. There were grad school folks, family, old friends (yes! folks who knew me in the 80s), folks I work with, folks I used to work with, neighbors... ALL FRIENDS, of course! We had a great time and DH and I didn't get to bed until 3:30am! (Geez, how long has it been since we've seen 3:30am?)</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Do I feel 40?</span> I have no idea what that means, since I haven't ever been 40... I've had to get reading glasses, and sure, I have a few more aches and pains, and yeah, it's STILL tough to get rid of that spare tire around my waist, but so far, so good... Is 40 the new 30? Sure, why not?</div><div><br /></div><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3049/2948000299_a8500030da.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 500px; " /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Disneyland on my actual 40th birthday...</span></div><div>My whole famn damily was at Disneyland for my 40th bday weekend. In all honesty, our excuse was not my birthday, but Thing 2's successful potty training! Yippee! <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">WARNING: MAMATALK AHEAD</span>. He's still wearing a diaper at nap and at night, but he's a regular potty user and has even attempted to wipe himself after going #2. </div><div><br /></div><div>Hey, any excuse for visiting the Happiest Place on Earth. </div><div><br /></div><div>The place was all decorated for Halloween and we had a GREAT TIME! Some highlights:</div><div><ul><li>The new Toy Story ride is AMAZING. It is completely interactive and well worth the wait. <br /></li><li>Definitely get a birthday button if you're there even remotely close to your birthday. It's cool during the parades having the characters wish you a happy birthday. And Mickey Mouse gave me a birthday peck on the cheek!</li><li>Seeing my kids and my nieces so darned happy is well worth it. That's why we brave the lines, the heat, the junk food (and ensuing constipation), and the creepiness of feeling like you're being controlled, right?</li></ul><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">The Nike Women's Marathon</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3070/2962822319_60b5573d92.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 375px; " /></span></div><div>Hey, when your life is a marathon, what's a 26.2 mile jog?</div><div><br /></div><div>My friend Kristin and I arrived at the starting line around 6:30am, ready to run like girls with 20,000 other women and men (mostly women, as you could guess.) The atmosphere was much like the 3Day, except boiled down to one day with a loooooooong run instead of a looooong walk. There was loud music, lots of bright lights, dignitaries (SF Police and Fire Chiefs- both women), radio announcers, and A LOT of purple and green (Team in Training.) This was a HUGE TnT event, especially since the whole event was a benefit for leukemia/lymphoma. </div><div><br /></div><div>I had to take a photo of this woman, who obviously hadn't lost sight of the carrot at the end of the stick:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEial2dX14-rGxPkINA0j6rI3MnmoVv1XcawFK1S8CDaSdZxj4bAp7OC8aeckaEOTVzt95T6Fh5EJoZYzO1VAoYBV8-k42Hrt09jlgKL7N93A1XkCpXk51Oy8tn_EXbSLmf6s-gpl1O4bxSg/s320/IMG_8528.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261539315361671250" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It was COLD, something we were thankful and ready for. It was EARLY, something we are also used to (we start almost all of our training runs before 6am.) And as for my tackling 26.2 miles, I knew I could handle it physically, I was just worried about the mental game.</div><div><br /></div><div>We crossed the starting line at about 7:20am with a TON of people. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv6dQ8nJC8YqcZIjzUJqnudJAElMOGEcCBinEEHp0kZYtqjbj0c-jWdMHJvfwsAf877W3Mfc7NDMuLFZomFVvYi6_w0-l1jOIGHxkZHSueHBP-eUzjWCF2KOWQdg1lC4i3V39aV4LyjqTO/s320/IMG_8529.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261539308806350802" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><object width="425" height="350"> <param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/iRX4QwzVnX4"> <embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/iRX4QwzVnX4" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"></embed> </object>Our first couple of miles were at a much slower pace than we are used to, but it was a good thing that we were FORCED to take it easy in the beginning. We ran through the Financial District, along the water, past Pier 39 and through Fisherman's Wharf. There was music along the way, including this gospel choir and a full Scottish band ('scuse the camerawork... I was running like a girl)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvFQBkZaQvNCS_Euc9M84L41dKAnxmm5aVzgEMOJlAH58jT6E11nfCXWXouM4eFNwq0z6CMw8rIoNxjSt1zn6v17goFT676CaXqOnngc_MeYSjlFmbd9GLKiWvoa7INdvaOqqzAEorCCV_/s320/IMG_8537.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261539304938824322" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>The hills were killers, especially the one coming out of Crissy Field and going up through the Presidio. It just never ended. Kristin kept saying, "This is our Spruce"- a long, steep hill in Berkeley that we ran several times during training. Yeah, Spruce x 10. But we made it, and we made it down the hill at the Cliff House, too. Around that time, I realized that Kristin was almost done (she was doing the half marathon) and I was about to be the lone r'alker (run-walker.) When the time did come, I was bummed, really bummed, especially because she peeled off during the uphill in Golden Gate Park, yet another hill that felt like it would never end...</div><div><br /></div><div>I managed to keep going with our run 5 minutes, walk 1 minute plan, and was pretty consistent with a 12-minute mile pace. At mile 25, I hit a wall, so to speak. My body didn't want to run anymore, but luckily, it didn't want to stop, and why when I was so close. I walked for a mile, then managed to run for the final .2 of a mile (gotta come in running, right?) I was greeted by a bevy of HOT firefighters in tuxedos with platters full of Tiffany boxes. Inside? Possibly the coolest finishers' medal EVAH:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3060/2962799327_0a4ddc4e2c.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 375px; " /></div><div>So, I've done my first and ONLY marathon. I can cross it off my bucket list. It was great, but I think I'll do halfs from now on. It's not that I was hurting all the following week. It's not that it was a horrible experience. It's just that the training takes A LOT of time.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, but it was SO worth it...</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">And now...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">I'm sitting here, it's almost noon, and I'm still in my jammies. It's been a great weekend. No school, no other extra-curricular activities. Just me. Basking in the glow of finishing running this gauntlet that is my life.</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Coming soon...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">The pain that is a Leadership Action Research Project.</span></span></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-49173872985728740792008-10-01T07:05:00.001-07:002008-10-01T07:08:20.213-07:00I *heart* the 80s.Really, as soon as this birthday party thing is over, I will get serious again and talk ed-yew-kay-shun... really. But until then, enjoy this photo I found on the web:<div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://80srewind.net/80s/images/childabuse.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-3203718321943049832008-09-28T21:53:00.000-07:002008-09-28T22:20:37.587-07:00Your 80s Primer<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.liketotally80s.com/images/poison.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.liketotally80s.com/images/poison.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img103.imageshack.us/img103/5134/thompsontwinsloveonyouruj7.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://img103.imageshack.us/img103/5134/thompsontwinsloveonyouruj7.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img103.imageshack.us/img103/5134/thompsontwinsloveonyouruj7.jpg"><br /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>For those of you who will be attending my 80s Dance Party and you're not quite sure what to wear or you don't remember the 80s (for whatever reason- I know mine) or you just want a refresher before the actual par-tay, read, and watch, on. <div><br /></div><div>The 80s according to Wikipedia:</div><div><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Culture_of_the_1980s">Culture</a></div><div><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1980s_in_fashion">Fashion</a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.rockonthenet.com/archive/2006/vh180s.htm">VH-1's Top 100 Songs of the 80s</a> (compiled in 2006 when they should have known better)</div><div><br /></div><div>The Geekier Version: <a href="http://www.npr.org/blogs/allsongs/2008/08/top_10_80s_pop_songs.html">NPR's Top 10 Pop Songs of the 80s </a>(kudos cuz they include videos- try not to clap during the Styx song) (Hey! You may get an outfit idea!) (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">I WILL MAKE SURE ALL OF YOUR DRINKS ARE PAID FOR IF YOU WEAR A TEAL JUMPSUIT</span>)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://80music.about.com/od/artistsfj/tp/topmjsongs.htm">The Top 10 Michael Jackson Songs of the 80s</a> (yes, he was so prolific in the 80s, you can actually have a top 10 for him JUST FOR THAT DECADE)</div><div><br /></div><div>The #1 Song on the Billboard Chart on my 16th birthday (yeah, it was in the 80s): "I Just Called to Say I Love You" by Stevie Wonder (who I love, but that is not one of my favorite songs by him) Look up a #1 song for a particular date <a href="http://www.joshhosler.biz/NumberOneInhistory/selectMonth.htm">here</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div>And, well, watch <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1jfBGhWo760">this video</a> for a lovely fashion show of 80s fashion</div><div><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1jfBGhWo760&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1jfBGhWo760&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /></div><div>... and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6NdAUnnU9Ac">this one</a> for more fashion but more nostalgia.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">KICK IT!</span></div><div><br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-4020222104981961892008-09-28T21:46:00.000-07:002008-09-28T21:50:44.428-07:00"Steeping in the literature..."Translation: read A LOT and talk about it JUST AS MUCH...<div><br /></div><div>Here's my grad school update:</div><div><ul><li>We are deep into the fall semester. Four classes...</li><li>...this means we are all really CONFUSED about what is due when...</li><li>We've started talking thesis... EEEEEEEEK!</li><li>The term "action research" will be misused over and over again, ad infinitum, to full comic relief, I guarantee it.</li><li>It's tiring to go to school and work full-time.</li></ul><div>So now you know...</div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-60544850799012327642008-09-25T10:51:00.000-07:002008-09-25T10:52:45.578-07:00THE OBAMA HUSTLE!We're gearing up for a friend's Obama-rama party... I have until Saturday to learn this:<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/mYa0nyy43Bg&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x006699&color2=0x54abd6"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/mYa0nyy43Bg&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x006699&color2=0x54abd6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-20038722877361456012008-09-17T11:15:00.000-07:002008-09-17T11:20:01.001-07:00MORE on White Privilege cuz it ain't going away...Just li'l ol' me again, ragin' against the machine. But I'm not alone.<br /><br />Read on... very edifying (and SCARY and MADDENING...)<br /><br /><a href="http://www.redroom.com/blog/tim-wise/this-your-nation-white-privilege">http://www.redroom.com/blog/tim-wise/this-your-nation-white-privilege</a><br /><br /><strong>This is Your Nation on White Privilege</strong> <br />By Tim Wise<br /><br />For those who still can’t grasp the concept of white privilege, or who are constantly looking for some easy-to-understand examples of it, perhaps this list will help.<br /><br />White privilege is when you can get pregnant at seventeen like Bristol Palin and everyone is quick to insist that your life and that of your family is a personal matter, and that no one has a right to judge you or your parents, because “every family has challenges,” even as black and Latino families with similar “challenges” are regularly typified as irresponsible, pathological and arbiters of social decay. <br /><br />White privilege is when you can call yourself a “fuckin’ redneck,” like Bristol Palin’s boyfriend does, and talk about how if anyone messes with you, you'll “kick their fuckin' ass,” and talk about how you like to “shoot shit” for fun, and still be viewed as a responsible, all-American boy (and a great son-in-law to be) rather than a thug.<br /><br />White privilege is when you can attend four different colleges in six years like Sarah Palin did (one of which you basically failed out of, then returned to after making up some coursework at a community college), and no one questions your intelligence or commitment to achievement, whereas a person of color who did this would be viewed as unfit for college, and probably someone who only got in in the first place because of affirmative action.<br /><br />White privilege is when you can claim that being mayor of a town smaller than most medium-sized colleges, and then Governor of a state with about the same number of people as the lower fifth of the island of Manhattan, makes you ready to potentially be president, and people don’t all piss on themselves with laughter, while being a black U.S. Senator, two-term state Senator, and constitutional law scholar, means you’re “untested.” <br /><br />White privilege is being able to say that you support the words “under God” in the pledge of allegiance because “if it was good enough for the founding fathers, it’s good enough for me,” and not be immediately disqualified from holding office--since, after all, the pledge was written in the late 1800s and the “under God” part wasn’t added until the 1950s--while believing that reading accused criminals and terrorists their rights (because, ya know, the Constitution, which you used to teach at a prestigious law school requires it), is a dangerous and silly idea only supported by mushy liberals. <br /><br />White privilege is being able to be a gun enthusiast and not make people immediately scared of you. <br /><br />White privilege is being able to have a husband who was a member of an extremist political party that wants your state to secede from the Union, and whose motto was “Alaska first,” and no one questions your patriotism or that of your family, while if you're black and your spouse merely fails to come to a 9/11 memorial so she can be home with her kids on the first day of school, people immediately think she’s being disrespectful. <br /><br />White privilege is being able to make fun of community organizers and the work they do--like, among other things, fight for the right of women to vote, or for civil rights, or the 8-hour workday, or an end to child labor--and people think you’re being pithy and tough, but if you merely question the experience of a small town mayor and 18-month governor with no foreign policy expertise beyond a class she took in college--you’re somehow being mean, or even sexist. <br />White privilege is being able to convince white women who don’t even agree with you on any substantive issue to vote for you and your running mate anyway, because all of a sudden your presence on the ticket has inspired confidence in these same white women, and made them give your party a “second look.” <br /><br />White privilege is being able to fire people who didn’t support your political campaigns and not be accused of abusing your power or being a typical politician who engages in favoritism, while being black and merely knowing some folks from the old-line political machines in Chicago means you must be corrupt. <br /><br />White privilege is being able to attend churches over the years whose pastors say that people who voted for John Kerry or merely criticize George W. Bush are going to hell, and that the U.S. is an explicitly Christian nation and the job of Christians is to bring Christian theological principles into government, and who bring in speakers who say the conflict in the Middle East is God’s punishment on Jews for rejecting Jesus, and everyone can still think you’re just a good church-going Christian, but if you’re black and friends with a black pastor who has noted (as have Colin Powell and the U.S. Department of Defense) that terrorist attacks are often the result of U.S. foreign policy and who talks about the history of racism and its effect on black people, you’re an extremist who probably hates America. <br /><br />White privilege is not knowing what the Bush Doctrine is when asked by a reporter, and then people get angry at the reporter for asking you such a “trick question,” while being black and merely refusing to give one-word answers to the queries of Bill O’Reilly means you’re dodging the question, or trying to seem overly intellectual and nuanced. <br /><br />White privilege is being able to claim your experience as a POW has anything at all to do with your fitness for president, while being black and experiencing racism is, as Sarah Palin has referred to it a “light” burden. <br /><br />And finally, white privilege is the only thing that could possibly allow someone to become president when he has voted with George W. Bush 90 percent of the time, even as unemployment is skyrocketing, people are losing their homes, inflation is rising, and the U.S. is increasingly isolated from world opinion, just because white voters aren’t sure about that whole “change” thing. Ya know, it’s just too vague and ill-defined, unlike, say, four more years of the same, which is very concrete and certain… <br /><br />White privilege is, in short, the problem.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-56835766429575718542008-09-16T10:28:00.000-07:002008-09-16T10:33:20.507-07:00So, how do the women (and men) of Anchorage feel about Palin?<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://mudflats.files.wordpress.com/2008/09/rally7.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Read all about it... the BIGGEST political rally in Alaska, EVAH!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://mudflats.wordpress.com/2008/09/14/alaska-women-reject-palin-rally-is-huge/">Alaska Women Reject Palin Rally is HUGE!</a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Big LOVE to my liberal sistahs to the north...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">(FYI- I'm baaaaaaaaack.)</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-40395727939079610802008-09-15T22:27:00.000-07:002008-09-19T21:32:19.051-07:00The top ten reasons to walk 60 miles in 3 days...<div>10. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">You get to camp where you normally wouldn't be allowed to. </span>Taking part in a huge, national foundation-run charity walkathon has its benefits. We camped on Crissy Field, a short walk from Fort Point and the Golden Gate Bridge. I could unzip my tent and behold the bridge in all its orange glory. Proof:<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilCOrgMaqSTebxFHkgs-_5geGjqX-aQiKEVIdkh5Kod5TtzLtefw3_iEtwz54ZnDnfgdNG4lVCtzAa4NZ6wRlAK5nON_nBVTauCjUn2tE80g0plroazUy_QmvXi-AlKzxWvcyaWPxoHLVx/s320/IMG_7549.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246488561707731650" /><div><div>(The pink tents were our homes for two nights- they are donated to local Girl Scout troops after the event. In 2006 when I did the 3Day in San Diego, our tents were blue... pink is definitely more festive and pink ribbon-esque.)</div><div><br /></div><div>9. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Unlimited Gatorade of all flavors, water, and Uncrustables. </span>Yeah, Uncrustables... have you ever eaten one of these things? </div><div><img src="http://www.sherryweb.com/wedding/uncrustable.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; " /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I love them and have only ever had them on the 3Day. Yum. I am praying my children never get wind of these things, or it will be ALL OVER. But yeah, while you are walking your 14 to 22 miles in one day, there are pit stops every 3 miles or so with snacks and beverages so you're always hydrated... which leads me to...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">8. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">The CLEANEST portapotties on the planet</span>. I do not lie. If you have to use a portapotty, you are DAMN glad it is so clean. On the 3Day, you spend all your, um, potty time in them. In fact, I took photos of my teammates after their first 3Day portapotty experiences. See how impressed by the cleanliness they are?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdfEYk6n5Tgi6kq4kaIwfmpI8DfAPx-76TeZNwWtzQp5RNI-YhwIficIb_yAdjOcWU_yhT2BxrED45tJaZHEuZadk5AYvEDix0K5EWe083BdgJtUo7_Mt2mOeQFBzNTWGUskqDci-JB5HO/s320/IMG_7407.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246492462254002866" style="cursor: pointer; " /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg8zbNPy5vblR6RDvj26dRhbE9vOGtYYBS0HhuxyZTVuvvx4D_CpeaBy5eYkP0HzuhIMWQe5u5dYSenyaarb9sU2XS_4qcWZ7TNK-RxN_nUTy8Un4Et7wF5_39Z-y-tp4IUjKN4trRv_Tl/s320/IMG_7408.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246492469502253362" style="cursor: pointer; " /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">7. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Camp entertainment</span>. Yeah, you read right, camp entertainment. After you've walked almost a marathon, you're ready to just veg out and be entertained, right? So, every night, there's something on the stage. We were big fans of 3Day RockStar, which is a little like American Idol minus Randy, Paula, and Simon, but including the talent, and a different kind of talent at that... The winner was crew member Rob who qualified with his fantastic version of "Piano Man" ("well they're sharing a drink they call Gatorade".) This was followed up the next night with his 3Day version of "Uptown Girl" (apparently, Rob loves Billy Joel) titled "3Day Girl" ("and when she's walkin', she's lookin' so fi-i-ine") </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">6. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Free Milano cookies from Pepperidge Farm and other cool stuff from sponsors. </span>Yeah, in 2006, one of the sponsors was Motrin and we got FREE MOTRIN... but they've figured out that ibuprofen sucks the electrolytes outta ya and, well, you need those when you're walking from San Francisco to Marin and back... anyway, the sponsors this time were Pepperidge Farm (FREE Milanos in camp), New Balance, Golden Grain (spaghetti dinner on the first night), and <a href="http://www.lacroixwater.com/">La Croix</a> (they do sparkling water.) I won the La Croix raffle on the second night and am looking forward to receiving my cooler full of <a href="http://www.lacroixwater.com/">La Croix</a> products! They also have a tent at camp with foot massagers! Here are our feet getting a much deserved massage:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9gacYylsBx_JYeQLPMQC3YC5w89eOLB7N78aEyJ9uU458A83_1uUoe4LgBgs_LudHaNRmStaUVUoP2lKEMYe_jTbxoT71CdUoccfZk1WkrsCHmhsnrVH79jZKlgpdXx13XdqlXqY1KaFY/s320/DSCN3474.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246496191519532898" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; " /></div><div style="text-align: left;">5. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">THE VIEWS</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWZBRf2VYN3U78Mk7mWyUgb8AjxRH06cS_zPB8hHTFq6D81IwQHMFq2X_2WVg-d84zNrv4UtxXpFvvyBFKPge0ctnWM2yUCjNOVcFlkmqOiaabnn6L27tPcqH2HzsxrU21UVMllLzPXiTD/s320/IMG_7461.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246497870396226834" style="cursor: pointer; " /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWy_pN0uf-inhJnZ7xgveV7OCvHdaeXiCZwTgGlfnz1WHo6C7t0uLWvHEiFhMAmc19IUp-tzdUYyanRSvZezhE-uEEd13nNpo0tdnDeNLq2k3PEhYBl29tx0kCF8jq9zQZmbvpzXphZfNS/s320/IMG_7429.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246497877112517842" style="cursor: pointer; " /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj19C6i7Ry6PloH2jzQ34DXGjqNhk9GDzv0SceafpaEKKXxkm9-yn51wF-M3OdeIY7WohGWVoheKdU_CKYX_sCuycR3B0wDcG8pg4LHtOPb5KQeVqkCpdWS64hvQrEH7A9PFzv5X6MQUwtm/s320/IMG_7471.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246497884259626946" style="cursor: pointer; " /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQu60oZTT9jmyrcz12oTCOMxBg9YDUXM7mZV7kjNOBHm1_M-vzx4cLfE74vHJP7sprh_yPDpHH506sPOBVecTgmTBC7WGIp6sUOxX1EyqOScVm3ItIqrSakrKDS6y44DqEaZUKZi66qh-6/s320/IMG_7501.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246497894005391922" style="cursor: pointer; " /></span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwoe7x7wTIMX6ubz1pV1Lk_2IXWMXDC7ZHmDL_4MHWeJKNlIy8xwkPnJb7TTv2TOQRQwADOQ5i1QIIoLfbTOv-47wwgSGAfnEIA0N-69nLio9B9HX7DbAb4wif5HUn7d6LlJenPvvaK3S8/s320/IMG_7538.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246497890105414194" style="cursor: pointer; " /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbeG8GENgUZ7olYisTsIBFHT8Nf-ynNfPFrfTA3s2fXZVs7eVJ9m-mIOl2hvzA4LRu9_85cHhE1pm7f4JEyrSOwi2AUzyeYoTVh0L6TqNH0YjuJ2rXwUC8adNfkSD-u_jbm2w7pdPPeIBm/s320/IMG_7507.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246500326891339490" style="cursor: pointer; " /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">OK, that last one is just gratuitous... Thanks HOT Sausalito cops! Now that's what I call community support!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">4. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">HOOKERS, and other Walker Stalkers... </span>The folks who cheer you on along the route (who aren't crew and other walkers) are called "Walker Stalkers". Our favorites were the Hookers for Hooters because they were dressed like ladies of the evening and drove around blasting upbeat music. It was fun to holler "HOOKERS!" whenever we saw them, even if we were in Mill Valley (heh, heh, heh.) <img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJshNJEBLYuk0TezDcK1t2LcTKr6LfSHrWF8umF5AybOqnzz4DoHsu7Hh4m9o9-mP-LvuP7edNDW3q2J-9XUcOTSDm_rQO6Dux9OY0Ust75ieImd8DZ1Zdo-0VAcqIo9IP7m587yxMukXI/s320/IMG_7500.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246500317899416610" style="cursor: pointer; " /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">They were just one set of stalkers... there were the two older dudes who showed up at different points on the route to cheer us on... <img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2KxuhyphenhyphenHIducwQrvgLDokSnWbfDGimsBQF_Urg6liNx665OJhuiqDT9yA3YcioPmejigx2Su55uxpJlBcMGPCI4fLp8wFGBmUx99gdlBniA3OmbD-u8PGYD-dy03LDd4cd9Q3tjGcV5sOM/s320/IMG_7467.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246500311669398018" style="cursor: pointer; " /></div><div style="text-align: left;">the Boob Lady who invited everyone to touch... <img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi825zZ6TUU43LTvFwnS6htDh3a7r3MIhKpDad8urzA5CeuNmCp-Q__QqvWXiRNF7WlefqwsST8m7HaQAR0rv3Oid60cu0EQ3n-q_C20SKGpJyO14ZKRIg824Dyjum6-5ZhTo9xU8zFrNas/s320/IMG_7494.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246500319873839634" style="cursor: pointer; " /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">the folks who got up early to cheer us as we left camp on the last day... <img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDprDx_2raHWUt2ZwfK7RAN-22yvw1MSQavalpr6RBVQoQZPt6bAY9cBEL8u0fvjIwwV1dbDicgOxjBl-fc8yzQWOfrCFw1sNwSQ38I9sBs0ORkxnoh5-joyYETyXrHC__V2XLQMEw05k3/s320/IMG_7568.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246500324337091810" style="cursor: pointer; " />We couldn't have done it without any of them!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">3. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Incredible support by the crew...</span> From the food, to crossing guards, to helpful police officers in different cities, to folks who bused our tables, to the medical crew, to the folks who scanned you in, to the sweep van crews... AMAZING. Made me feel like I had a vacation, even though I walked 60 miles in 3 days!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">2. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Showing off my knitting and knitting publicly. </span>Sorry folks, you knew knitting had to make an appearance somewhere... I knit boob hats and they were very popular! Tons of folks took our pictures, well the tops of our heads. Here's my fave photo of the infamous BOOB HATS which I've titled "Boobs by the Bay":</div><div style="text-align: left;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg41ZI2BRcjXWwFBWDE0DzUpJ5Am7kURsCt8U1TFokVUgYzVMIyiLU2jJqqZhLuUN4xqhpis7e7m-D5adM1njpxs-y6zk6vCJg-3HVBjv5Dq8upZFNkgGcMcBLQV_JKlx4nIKL51xgvlPOL/s320/IMG_7456.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246503421010377762" style="cursor: pointer; " /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And some photos of us being crafty at camp:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi50hMTBQy9du1w4emtCmhDUI_wh_U0z4YsZjlTY4muKXGwMSFTTeGKuTBz7BQbcm54gDl_ZTYnxth1HmxHGOwcpfNQVSWFze9BNTNcS7Xo8R31Qms28lrVT4JrVcfiyRRcnDjx6LsIFq3V/s320/IMG_7551.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246503423802160050" style="cursor: pointer; " /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT8T0WYB6t7QIQAZ3bG8ElbUyxFp6-_SvSGR0D3QAcfDtfje8BlapIj090G2m4ECzuLF2A8e1G8ZedE7P7l5NmdxdZm8cJeDuxz8ZU76zQjH8cv3_sDkh-ApFvVmkfHCRYQfLNxE3vCXVi/s320/IMG_7555.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246503435679613474" style="cursor: pointer; " /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwCDP3gwoQYn6Bgyg-dAfhBXek6fZMGYk4ZkjrvdTj5LA4keU4HRwxChRhyM2AlZAdZiyhKonii3S4_B2PU7SrqXBNhhX3ur1xJNz9YAIhyphenhyphenZPRcgqHbAMLtMHSOC91dcvL6KLYyTNp-jnH/s320/IMG_7442.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246503442130964738" style="cursor: pointer; " /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">And the #1 reason to walk 60 miles in 3 days...</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Enjoying your friends, making new ones, and being reminded of why we really walk. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="">It was truly wonderful to spend 3 days and 60 miles with my two friends and neighbors, Michelle and Deena. I was so glad to have them join me on this journey. We were able to meet a lot of other fabulous folk, including other Ravelers (Team Unraveled in particular), my fantabulous, beautiful, energetic and incredibly fast walker tentmate Dee Ann, and <a href="http://www.pinkbeardbarry.com/">Pink Beard Barry</a>, who is completing all 14 of the 3Day events this year.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRo_bgK7T1Wz06J525VjdA9QJHgKSF1DX73CNZJXG36biT8D3109lsAiO3SNQYA6oxKQUMWf7qVoA5iBCkwTB-RhUNeW6dVG3jBLNZbz2GE_lKkwoULEeVK3BjfVEoM8dm_9aA7mVVUIv2/s320/IMG_7574_2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246505388896725314" style="cursor: pointer; " /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">While walking through Golden Gate Park, we came upon a group of women in lawn chairs, cheering us on. I noticed that one of them was covering up the hair she was losing. I asked her if I could hug her (it's my thing to hug survivors and future survivors) and she held me close and said in my ear, "Thank you so much. I'm fighting this thing and I'M GOING TO WIN." In those few words, she boiled it down. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Thank you. Good luck. I'll see you in 2 years.</div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-64274260932317770702008-08-06T16:07:00.001-07:002008-08-06T16:14:03.116-07:00The New Me<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMGiKIafIDKtMwxhQ1ch3RFxtqA9OZTTJFirAookhEp5ArGju8WRicC_yY-C500LfKddB-fzJVVE_PWFErvHygVkqdCg4WxeL7arGvRvNEJQiMMj9VTBsi-y2Y4bnW9UayvyfuGDmRYrY8/s1600-h/Photo+33.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMGiKIafIDKtMwxhQ1ch3RFxtqA9OZTTJFirAookhEp5ArGju8WRicC_yY-C500LfKddB-fzJVVE_PWFErvHygVkqdCg4WxeL7arGvRvNEJQiMMj9VTBsi-y2Y4bnW9UayvyfuGDmRYrY8/s200/Photo+33.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231546912193323618" /></a><br />Dear PLI Journal,<div>Wow! Can you believe it? It's already August and the summer session is OVER!!!!!!! OMG, I just don't know what to say. I mean, the summer's been great- done a lot of great work about so many things, especially about myself. I feel I've really, really, really grown, not just as a potential school leader, but also as a person. Wow. That's about all I can say.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am, though, a little worried. I'm worried about going back to work and sliding back into my old self. You know, the one who bottled things up and did little to take action. The one who waited for others to tell her what to do. The one with great ideas who never said anything. Well, forget that! Wait until they meet THE NEW ME! Smarter, stronger, more outspoken, with a who-cares attitude...</div><div><br /></div><div>Wow. What a makeover.</div><div><br /></div><div>Love,</div><div>L</div><div>xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo</div><div><div><br /></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-87221862141454441482008-08-01T23:26:00.000-07:002008-08-01T23:41:02.379-07:00Dear Mr. Affleck and Mr. LehaneI think you must have read some of the readings from my grad program. If you didn't, well, then, I was either reading something deeper into your book/movie <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gone_Baby_Gone">Gone, Baby, Gone</a> </span>or the readings have done a good job of seeping into my deeper memory.<div><br /></div><div>At the end, I kept making connections to the readings I've done over the last few weeks- to Freire and his idea that the oppressed must save themselves and Fuller and Holloway's study of poor mothers. I thought a lot about how adults make decisions for children who cannot stand up for themselves (Elmore) and how difficult it is to stand for the right thing even though it's against the majority and means a great loss to yourself (Carter's integrity). </div><div><br /></div><div>In the end, I am left, really, with no answers. I do, however, see how easily things will come up in my life that remind me of lessons learned since June 20th. And I should heed those lessons.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-41820452632198983172008-07-30T16:07:00.000-07:002008-07-30T16:13:06.757-07:00The Important (and boring) Work of AccountabilitySorry, dear reader, for putting you through my thoughts on accountability. You've guessed it... that's what we're working on right now. But it's made me think... accountability is the one thing that school folk see as important, yes, but HELL NO, don't put me on the data team, puh-leeze. Yes, data is considered pretty boring, but it's also faceless and straightforward, impersonal and to the point. You can stick it on a graph. You can't stick a kid on a graph... you can't account for the fact that she didn't have breakfast the morning of the test because she got up late... you can't consider that he's had a head cold for the past couple of days, or that he's suffering from asthma... you can't chart the way he feels about this test you've put in front of him...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715854768097888626.post-71375917081473860202008-07-29T16:08:00.000-07:002008-07-29T16:16:40.931-07:00Accountability Reciprocity<blockquote>"The child and the school are accountable to the state for test performance, but the state is not held accountable to the child or his school for providing adequate educational resources."</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: right;">- Linda Darling-Hammond</blockquote>So true... NCLB makes children, their families, teachers, school administrators, and school boards accountable for so much and yet what is the government doing to help? We discussed questions we have about NCLB today and mine came from a deep place of anger... there are schools in my district who are in program improvement, have been there for years, far beyond the number of years it takes to be "taken over". Well, NOW WHAT? Those kids are still not getting what they need. This is a DAILY occurrence. We cannot wait until there is a new president. We cannot wait for NCLB to be renewed. WE CANNOT WAIT. The time is now.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10999853428081579181noreply@blogger.com0