(Blog title stolen from Jason Mraz)
Contrary to what I was expecting , I fell back into depression during my trip to Lincolnwood, Illinois.
I hadn’t been to Illinois since my grandfather’s funeral in 2007, and I hadn’t seen my grandmother since my brother’s bar mitzvah that summer. Since then, my grandmother sold her beautiful house that she raised three daughters in, including my mother. An apartment in a Jewish retirement community replaced that beautiful house in Evanston. That fact alone was saddening. The apartment felt and smelled like the house, but it wasn’t. I desperately miss that silly house. Never have I been so attached to a building. Being in that apartment was like being home but knowing it really wasn’t; it was a mirage.
Since I hadn’t seen my grandmother in two years, seeing her getting older was depressing in itself. I fought back silent tears for the first day that I arrived at her apartment. She’s unable to do every-day things that most people take for granted. She struggles to walk around and stand up, and she gets confused and disoriented easily. She even tried to knit with one needle and couldn’t figure out why it wasn’t working until I told her she had forgotten the second needle. We both laughed about it, and she’s been a great sport, but I think that her struggle with old age is taking a toll on her, as it is with me. Just watching her struggle is difficult.
I’ve never had to see this before, which is probably why it’s so difficult now. My paternal grandfather died when I was young and I never knew him much. I only have one memory of him and it’s just a fleeting glimpse of his figure standing in his living room saying “Hi, Timmy!” when my dad walked in the door. My paternal grandmother died when I was a senior in high school but no tears were shed because she is the exception to my claim that all people are truly good. My half-grandfather, my mom’s stepdad, was unable to get around by himself for almost as long as I knew him. I have very vague memories of him coming home from work in a suit and tie, but soon after, he had surgery on his knees and wasn’t able to walk well since. Old age had already taken a toll on him, and I simply grew up knowing that my grandfather was old and unable to do basic things like everybody else. But now I’m seeing this once fully-functioning person, my grandmother, deteriorate before my eyes. As harsh as it seems, I couldn't wait to get away from Lincolnwood and Illinois because it’s so difficult and frustrating to watch this, not only because I love my grandma but because I know this will happen to me. I, too, will grow old and become unable to walk and think. It’s even scarier because I have a hard time walking and sitting because of my bad back, and I’m not even 20.
A less drastic contributor to my depression has been watching my family moving further and further apart. My mom’s two older sisters are being less than kind to my mom, and I’m quickly growing apart from my older cousin with whom I used to be fairly close. We used to be friends, and I looked up to her. Now, we talk to each other because it’s the right thing to do and because we’re related, not because we have things to say to one another. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have a supportive family with aunts and cousins and uncles and the like. My only uncles I know fairly well haven’t spoken to me in nearly a decade. One of them hasn’t spoken a word to me since I was five or six. I guess I grew up not expecting to have a supportive extended family, and that’s just what I got. I never really understood how friends talk about spending time with their cousins or visiting their aunt and uncle, or visiting their grandparents that live just down the road. It doesn’t necessarily upset me that I’m lacking this sort of family, but it’s difficult to see that small extended family that consists of my mom, her sisters, and my grandmother and half grandfather deteriorate. When my grandma passes away, there will be absolutely no reason for my mom or myself to correspond with any part of my family. Once the will is dealt with, communication will essentially cease just like what happened to my dad’s family. Déjà vu?
The main contributor to my depression and what pushed me over the edge in the end was stress and anxiety brought on by school, my future teaching career, and all the stress and anxiety I know I’ll face in the process of getting to where I want to end up. It’s hard to explain. All of a sudden I became sick and tired of being so stressed about every little part of my life. I know it’s a problem and probably some sort of mental illness, but I can’t help it. I want to be happy but I can’t be. I worry about getting my apartment furnishings to Bellingham and I worry about where to park and when. I worry about ordering clarinet reeds and what kind to order, and I get a sinking feeling in my stomach every time I think about picking up the clarinet even though I can’t stop playing it. I’m more than anxious to meet and hang out with a boy who has more feelings for me than I have for him (not Jon!), and I worry about how, when, and where I’ll meet up with my roommate to buy stuff for our apartment. I worry about getting lost on my way to my dermatologist appointment and I stress about what I’ll say to him and what he’ll say to me. I’m terrified of being a bad teacher and deciding that I spent 5 or 6 years preparing for a career that isn’t right for me. This isn’t the life I want to live, and sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it. What keeps me going is the hope that I can change the lives of children and help them have better lives than what I’m having.
-Elie
Monday, August 31, 2009
I Don't KNOW
When anybody asks what I’ve been doing this summer, I say I’ve been reading. I’ve done little more than work with kids and read books about kids. I feel like I’ve finally found my calling, what I want to do with my life. I’ve decided I want to teach “disadvantaged” kids in segregated schools where good teachers are needed the most.
As I read another book by Jonathan Kozol, Amazing Grace, my heart beat faster than normal because I felt for the people about whom Mr. Kozol wrote. Although this book was written 14 years ago and primarily focused on poverty in America rather than the flawed education system, I wanted, more than ever, to become a teacher of these kids so that I can give them an education and empower them to leave their dangerous neighborhoods and seek a new life for themselves. When I finished the book, I had that great feeling of “I’m going to change the world!”
After allowing for about seven hours of sleep, I started another book. It’s written by a rookie teacher in the Bronx, the setting of Amazing Grace. The Bronx is on the outskirts of New York City and is among the poorest city in the United States and even in the world. Hopefully it’s improved since Jonathan Kozol published his book in 1995. This new book is making me think that I might not be cut out to be a teacher. It takes certain kinds of people to succeed at different professions, and I may not have the “teaching gene” as the author, Dan Brown (NOT the guy who wrote The Da Vinci Code and Angels and Demons and whatnot) called it.I began to picture myself as a first-year, young, inexperienced, nervous teacher in front of a group of rowdy minority students who don’t identify well with a white, middle-class woman. Just as Mr. Brown (then twenty-two years old when he first began teaching) struggled to earn respect from his students and also struggled to control them, I see myself having the same problem.
The book I recently finished by Rafe Esquith was about teaching with respect and trust rather than fear, but it appears that the best way to gain respect from these irresponsible and less-than-respectful students is to show them that they can’t act poorly without expecting punishment. Essentially, it appears to be best to scare them so the teacher has a chance to get their attention so that he or she can actually gain their trust. But can you gain their respect after instilling fear into them first?A difference between Dan Brown and myself is that I will spend many years preparing to be a teacher. Mr. Brown was actually a film major at NYU who was drafted by a program intended to bring college students into much-needed schools while giving them a crash-course in teaching. The program was a lot like Teach for America…but not.
Basically, he didn’t have much preparation or guidance, but how much will I be able to learn from college where most of the professors and students are white and middle class? I don’t want to teach middle class white kids. I just don’t want to. I can and I might have to, but that’s not where I’m needed. I guess if feels like I’m setting myself for a fall by wanting to teach the “unteachable” kids – and not the young, innocent ones, either. I’m passionate about these kids who I want to teach, but I just don’t know if I’ll be good at it. I’m investing so much time and energy into learning about teaching that it would be terribly sad if I quit teaching within a few years. I’ve never felt so passionate about anything in my life. I want to be a teacher and sometimes I feel like it’s the one place where I belong, but as I’m thinking more and more about what kind of person I am while I read books about failure and success, I wonder if I’m right. Can I succeed? WILL I succeed?
As I read books about educational inequality, I feel a burning desire to be in those schools that need good teachers. Then, as I read books about being in the classroom and about the wonderful things that teachers do with their children and how they manage it, I become scared that I won’t be able to succeed, and I want to succeed more than anything.
Part of me thinks, “I’ve been reading so much about teaching inner-city kids. I should know what I’m up against and whether or not I can handle it.” But I DON’T know. Argh. Sometimes I feel like I can – I feel like I can be Superwoman. Then when I put down my book and picture myself along with several dozen middle or high school kids, I doubt myself. Okay, so how can I convince myself that I’m fit for this job? Experience. Okay, well, I’ve had experience. Sort of. I enjoyed my time in Elma Middle School, but I wasn’t in charge and I didn’t feel comfortable taking control of discipline issues because I wasn’t the teacher. The same happened at camp. I didn’t feel like I had the authority to sit a kid down and talk to them about their actions. Given the opportunity, I think I could have done more than I wound up doing, but I have a habit of handing over the problems to someone more qualified.
I actually didn’t enjoy Dan Brown’s book much because he basically got scared out of teaching in the inner city. The administration was out to get him, and they refused to let him have his own classroom for his second year so he was pretty much put on probation. He then resigned and picked up a teaching job at a rich private school. He admitted that it was more rewarding teaching in the Bronx than in a rich area with privileged kids, but he still didn’t return there. He might have gone back eventually after finishing the book, though. It scared me because the book didn’t have a happy ending. He didn’t win over the kids in the end. And in the end, it was the administration that did him in, but the kids never gave him much respect.
It’s just so frustrating being so far from the students I’m so interested in, and I can only read books about people doing the job I want to have. Sometimes I wish I went to college in New York or California so could spend some time in inner-city schools so I can gage how badly I’ll fail. Time will tell, I guess. I just hope Time has the answers I want to hear.
-Elie
As I read another book by Jonathan Kozol, Amazing Grace, my heart beat faster than normal because I felt for the people about whom Mr. Kozol wrote. Although this book was written 14 years ago and primarily focused on poverty in America rather than the flawed education system, I wanted, more than ever, to become a teacher of these kids so that I can give them an education and empower them to leave their dangerous neighborhoods and seek a new life for themselves. When I finished the book, I had that great feeling of “I’m going to change the world!”
After allowing for about seven hours of sleep, I started another book. It’s written by a rookie teacher in the Bronx, the setting of Amazing Grace. The Bronx is on the outskirts of New York City and is among the poorest city in the United States and even in the world. Hopefully it’s improved since Jonathan Kozol published his book in 1995. This new book is making me think that I might not be cut out to be a teacher. It takes certain kinds of people to succeed at different professions, and I may not have the “teaching gene” as the author, Dan Brown (NOT the guy who wrote The Da Vinci Code and Angels and Demons and whatnot) called it.I began to picture myself as a first-year, young, inexperienced, nervous teacher in front of a group of rowdy minority students who don’t identify well with a white, middle-class woman. Just as Mr. Brown (then twenty-two years old when he first began teaching) struggled to earn respect from his students and also struggled to control them, I see myself having the same problem.
The book I recently finished by Rafe Esquith was about teaching with respect and trust rather than fear, but it appears that the best way to gain respect from these irresponsible and less-than-respectful students is to show them that they can’t act poorly without expecting punishment. Essentially, it appears to be best to scare them so the teacher has a chance to get their attention so that he or she can actually gain their trust. But can you gain their respect after instilling fear into them first?A difference between Dan Brown and myself is that I will spend many years preparing to be a teacher. Mr. Brown was actually a film major at NYU who was drafted by a program intended to bring college students into much-needed schools while giving them a crash-course in teaching. The program was a lot like Teach for America…but not.
Basically, he didn’t have much preparation or guidance, but how much will I be able to learn from college where most of the professors and students are white and middle class? I don’t want to teach middle class white kids. I just don’t want to. I can and I might have to, but that’s not where I’m needed. I guess if feels like I’m setting myself for a fall by wanting to teach the “unteachable” kids – and not the young, innocent ones, either. I’m passionate about these kids who I want to teach, but I just don’t know if I’ll be good at it. I’m investing so much time and energy into learning about teaching that it would be terribly sad if I quit teaching within a few years. I’ve never felt so passionate about anything in my life. I want to be a teacher and sometimes I feel like it’s the one place where I belong, but as I’m thinking more and more about what kind of person I am while I read books about failure and success, I wonder if I’m right. Can I succeed? WILL I succeed?
As I read books about educational inequality, I feel a burning desire to be in those schools that need good teachers. Then, as I read books about being in the classroom and about the wonderful things that teachers do with their children and how they manage it, I become scared that I won’t be able to succeed, and I want to succeed more than anything.
Part of me thinks, “I’ve been reading so much about teaching inner-city kids. I should know what I’m up against and whether or not I can handle it.” But I DON’T know. Argh. Sometimes I feel like I can – I feel like I can be Superwoman. Then when I put down my book and picture myself along with several dozen middle or high school kids, I doubt myself. Okay, so how can I convince myself that I’m fit for this job? Experience. Okay, well, I’ve had experience. Sort of. I enjoyed my time in Elma Middle School, but I wasn’t in charge and I didn’t feel comfortable taking control of discipline issues because I wasn’t the teacher. The same happened at camp. I didn’t feel like I had the authority to sit a kid down and talk to them about their actions. Given the opportunity, I think I could have done more than I wound up doing, but I have a habit of handing over the problems to someone more qualified.
I actually didn’t enjoy Dan Brown’s book much because he basically got scared out of teaching in the inner city. The administration was out to get him, and they refused to let him have his own classroom for his second year so he was pretty much put on probation. He then resigned and picked up a teaching job at a rich private school. He admitted that it was more rewarding teaching in the Bronx than in a rich area with privileged kids, but he still didn’t return there. He might have gone back eventually after finishing the book, though. It scared me because the book didn’t have a happy ending. He didn’t win over the kids in the end. And in the end, it was the administration that did him in, but the kids never gave him much respect.
It’s just so frustrating being so far from the students I’m so interested in, and I can only read books about people doing the job I want to have. Sometimes I wish I went to college in New York or California so could spend some time in inner-city schools so I can gage how badly I’ll fail. Time will tell, I guess. I just hope Time has the answers I want to hear.
-Elie
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Somewhat of a Failure
So recently, I attempted to write a song. Nothing really new. But after writing the music, which I was happy with, and it was time to write lyrics, I, as usual, hit a bit of a rut. So I came up with what I could, which in my mind was going to be hard-hitting and poignant and personal lyrics. Turns out they kinda sucked, and I realized this pretty quickly after I finished the song and put it up and tried to give it a title ("The Bewildered Bully"? Really, Jon?). So, after talking with John von about my writer's block, I realized that I need to stop trying so hard. This won't apply just to the lyrics I try to write, but probably also to the music, because it's really hard to write simple lyrics for overly complicated music. Now, I really like the music I've been making, so I'm hoping I can find a way to reconcile and write some decent lyrics to fit the music and vice versa, and come to some kind of compromise, but I'm kinda thinking that collaborating is going to be the way I have to be. That or just straight-up musical composition without lyrics. When I write music, I try to empower myself and make these grand schemes and best myself and everything and everyone. I keep thinking, "I can make this better." And I get so caught up in making everything better, and going over it again and again, I don't take a step back and just make music. I get caught up in "production." In making it more complex and interesting. When it's actually just getting pretentious and boring. I don't know how it's happening, but what I'm TRYING to say is uhhh... I'm trying too hard. And I might be done making "solo music." I don't know. We'll see where my musical adventure with John von take me. But right now, I'm much more satisfied with the music we've been making together than anything I've made by myself.
--Jon
--Jon
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word
A few weeks ago, I had a dream or two about meeting my ex-best friend and us apologizing to each other and becoming friends again after having not spoken for at least 7 years after a mysterious break-up. All of this happened in real life, except for us meeting -- in person. After that dream, I managed to track her down via myspace. I considered writing to her, then I decided not to, then I thought about writing again, and then I finally did. After a few days, she responded. She apologized for breaking off our friendship and explained what was happening in her life at the time we stopped being friends. She also said that she thought about me and our friendship a lot and she had even tried writing letters but she could never say what she wanted to say. I completely understand and I forgive her and, honestly, I feel so much better.
This is a huge step for both of us. I can't quite comprehend that I just got in touch with her after being so hurt. But now we're communicating and making up. It's really a beautiful thing. I'm not expecting or hoping that we'll become "best friends forever" again, but maybe we'll get to a point where we'll stay in contact and essentially become penpals now that she lives so far away.
As if this wasn't enough, I met up with a friend who I used to very good friends with for many years. We hadn't talked for a year and then we went to dinner together for about one and a half hours yesterday. She was recently in a car accident and was drugged with various pain medications so she wasn't herself, but she hasn't been herself since taking drugs in high school. I was a little disappointed because I wanted us to become friends again when we met up yesterday, but I felt very little connection between us. She's moved in one direction and I've moved in another, and I felt no desire to rekindle a relationship.
Life is funny sometimes.
--Elie
This is a huge step for both of us. I can't quite comprehend that I just got in touch with her after being so hurt. But now we're communicating and making up. It's really a beautiful thing. I'm not expecting or hoping that we'll become "best friends forever" again, but maybe we'll get to a point where we'll stay in contact and essentially become penpals now that she lives so far away.
As if this wasn't enough, I met up with a friend who I used to very good friends with for many years. We hadn't talked for a year and then we went to dinner together for about one and a half hours yesterday. She was recently in a car accident and was drugged with various pain medications so she wasn't herself, but she hasn't been herself since taking drugs in high school. I was a little disappointed because I wanted us to become friends again when we met up yesterday, but I felt very little connection between us. She's moved in one direction and I've moved in another, and I felt no desire to rekindle a relationship.
Life is funny sometimes.
--Elie
Ruach Shoveva!
Camp has ended. And I am sad. Yes, I am indeed sad that camp is over, even though I complained at first. Well, things have changed.
Somehow, that "elitist group" sort of disbanded at the end of the first week, probably because we all got separated during the day and were forced to work with people who we weren't initially friends with.
All counselors had a difficult time controlling the students not because of our lack of ability but because the kids were just crazy this year. Even so, we continue to love them, and I miss those kids dearly. Our difficulty brought the counselors closer together, and I wouldn't have enjoyed camp much if it weren't for them. I became incredibly close with some of them, and I even made friends with a girl I with whom I wasn't getting along.
My experiences at camp flashed before my eyes at the Shabbat service where the campers and counselors performed for the families and congregation. As we all stood on stage and sang various camp songs, I laughed with some counselors as we forgot the words and I realized how close I had gotten to them. I've gotten to the point with some counselors that we can talk about every-day life, not just what happens at camp. Even though I knew all of them from previous years, it was like I made a bunch of new friends.
As we performed skits for the parents, I realized how much I'll miss the kids. It's been a struggle and a learning experience, and I'll miss those kids dearly. Before the service started, some kids actually asked to be closed in a closet, so Jesse did it with a smug look on his face. It was our dream to lock those kids in a closet! Not really. But it was pretty funny.
When (almost) all was said and done, the oldest counselor, my friend Sam, gave a short speech about the camp director who moved to Philadelphia, returned to camp a few weeks ago, and will not be returning to camp in the years to come. At that time, all the counselors were standing in front of the parents because we had just been thanked and applauded for our efforts. Sam began her speech to thank Ariel and she began to cry. It was difficult to witness because Sam is a role model to me and she's such a strong woman. As she broke down, Jesse tried to comfort her and the rest of us cried. We all love the camp director and we'll miss her. I'm afraid of what will happen to camp next year, but Sam might take over. Either way, it'll continue but it won't be the same. However, all the counselors have vowed to come back. We all made sure of that. We're a family that only gets together for 2 weeks during the summer, but we've gotten really close.
I had a sort of mental crisis throughout camp. The counselor who I grew closest to was Jesse, mostly because he and I were in a lot of the same groups together and wound up just spending a lot of time together. He's just a great, nice person and we get along well. I felt guilty because I was making such good friends with a boy that wasn't Jon. I like him (Jesse, not Jon) strictly as a friend, but I still felt a little weird. As I thought about it, I realized I feel that way when I hang out with other guy friends I met at Western. It's not a huge deal, but I always felt a little bad for being drawn to Jesse.
I just realized how amazing it is that we're all so close, because there is a huge range of ages in our little family. The youngest is 14 or 15 and the oldest is 21, yet we all treat each other with the same respect. At first, that wasn't the case, of course. The youngest girl is actually amazing with kids and she's quite grown up for her age. I respect her greatly because she's so eccentric and openly lesbian. I keep forgetting that she's 5 years younger than me.
Overall, I can't wait for camp next year, but I'm afraid of what the future holds. Even though the counselors will still be there, we'll have a new director or maybe several directors. Knowing that I'll return next year made me sure that I won't be spending a whole lot of time in Bellingham over the summer. I'll probably move home like I did this year so I can volunteer at the middle school, work at Fair Portia, and work at summer camp.
This was one boring blog. Oops...
--Elie
Somehow, that "elitist group" sort of disbanded at the end of the first week, probably because we all got separated during the day and were forced to work with people who we weren't initially friends with.
All counselors had a difficult time controlling the students not because of our lack of ability but because the kids were just crazy this year. Even so, we continue to love them, and I miss those kids dearly. Our difficulty brought the counselors closer together, and I wouldn't have enjoyed camp much if it weren't for them. I became incredibly close with some of them, and I even made friends with a girl I with whom I wasn't getting along.
My experiences at camp flashed before my eyes at the Shabbat service where the campers and counselors performed for the families and congregation. As we all stood on stage and sang various camp songs, I laughed with some counselors as we forgot the words and I realized how close I had gotten to them. I've gotten to the point with some counselors that we can talk about every-day life, not just what happens at camp. Even though I knew all of them from previous years, it was like I made a bunch of new friends.
As we performed skits for the parents, I realized how much I'll miss the kids. It's been a struggle and a learning experience, and I'll miss those kids dearly. Before the service started, some kids actually asked to be closed in a closet, so Jesse did it with a smug look on his face. It was our dream to lock those kids in a closet! Not really. But it was pretty funny.
When (almost) all was said and done, the oldest counselor, my friend Sam, gave a short speech about the camp director who moved to Philadelphia, returned to camp a few weeks ago, and will not be returning to camp in the years to come. At that time, all the counselors were standing in front of the parents because we had just been thanked and applauded for our efforts. Sam began her speech to thank Ariel and she began to cry. It was difficult to witness because Sam is a role model to me and she's such a strong woman. As she broke down, Jesse tried to comfort her and the rest of us cried. We all love the camp director and we'll miss her. I'm afraid of what will happen to camp next year, but Sam might take over. Either way, it'll continue but it won't be the same. However, all the counselors have vowed to come back. We all made sure of that. We're a family that only gets together for 2 weeks during the summer, but we've gotten really close.
I had a sort of mental crisis throughout camp. The counselor who I grew closest to was Jesse, mostly because he and I were in a lot of the same groups together and wound up just spending a lot of time together. He's just a great, nice person and we get along well. I felt guilty because I was making such good friends with a boy that wasn't Jon. I like him (Jesse, not Jon) strictly as a friend, but I still felt a little weird. As I thought about it, I realized I feel that way when I hang out with other guy friends I met at Western. It's not a huge deal, but I always felt a little bad for being drawn to Jesse.
I just realized how amazing it is that we're all so close, because there is a huge range of ages in our little family. The youngest is 14 or 15 and the oldest is 21, yet we all treat each other with the same respect. At first, that wasn't the case, of course. The youngest girl is actually amazing with kids and she's quite grown up for her age. I respect her greatly because she's so eccentric and openly lesbian. I keep forgetting that she's 5 years younger than me.
Overall, I can't wait for camp next year, but I'm afraid of what the future holds. Even though the counselors will still be there, we'll have a new director or maybe several directors. Knowing that I'll return next year made me sure that I won't be spending a whole lot of time in Bellingham over the summer. I'll probably move home like I did this year so I can volunteer at the middle school, work at Fair Portia, and work at summer camp.
This was one boring blog. Oops...
--Elie
Monday, August 10, 2009
Carpe diem quam minimum credula postero
I know made a post about religion yesterday, but I thought I would talk a little more on the subject, since in the past couple of days I've been browsing YouTube and its plethora of atheist material. With each video I watch, I am less and less convinced by the idea of a God, especially the Christian God. One thought in particular I've been coming back to again and again in my mind: what kind of all-powerful and perfect being (who I'm assuming has perfect logic) would damn so many of his creations to eternal torture simply for not believing in him, when so few logical signs point to his existence? Sounds like a malevolent sadist to me. No, these are not new ideas, and I didn't begin this blog to try to debunk the existence of God.
There ARE some atheists that irk me a little bit. Some simply say, "God does not exist." "I can prove that God does not exist." Simply put, no, you can't prove that. Just as theists can't prove that God(s) DO(ES) exist, atheists cannot prove that God(s) do(es) NOT exist. There's no way to know either way. But let's think through a few scenarios.
1. An individual believes in God and there is a God. He devotes his life to God. He dies and goes to heaven and lives an eternal afterlife of happiness.
END RESULT: A life devoted to an invisible being and a fulfilled afterlife
2. An individual does not believe in God and there is a God. He tries to live life to the fullest. He dies and goes to Hell for no good reason (unless the God is not the Christian one and isn't a total jerk-face).
END RESULT: A life devoted to whatever he wants and eternal damnation
3. An individual believes in God and there is no God. He devotes his life to God. He dies and becomes dust.
END RESULT: A life devoted to an invisible being and then nothing
4. An individual does not believe in God and there is no God. He tries to live life to the fullest. He dies and becomes dust.
END RESULT: A life devoted to whatever he wants and then nothing
Obviously, this list is a little biased to my own beliefs, and it's definitely oversimplified. But to recap... If one believes in God, either eternal happiness or wasted time (not necesarily, but... mission trips (the non-humanitarian ones) and any time spent worshipping). If one does not believe in God, either eternal damnation from a total asshole of a God who doesn't deserve worshipping, or a life well spent (again, not necesarily, but I'm not totally finished). On second thought, there are so many possibilities out there... perhaps a God would reward atheism because of the signs that point to it? Kind of weird, but again, possible. This whole idea is getting ridiculous so I'm just going to move on from it.
Perhaps a little of my religious history is in order. From late elementary school to early high school, I considered myself a Christian, attending the church of a friend of mine as regularly as I could. I can't remember the first time I was invited, but I remember I believed in some sort of God before I first went to church. I don't think my parents explicitly taught me that God existed, but they definitely alluded to it. That church just told me all the specifics about that God. Throughout the years, I convinced myself that they were right, and they convinced me that they were right... but looking back now, I know there was always this nagging feeling that there was just something inherently wrong with some of the stuff they were saying. In the back of my mind, I thought then what I did now: what if I just hadn't discovered Christianity? I was condemned to Satan's hellfire? Makes no sense. So over the years, especially after I stopped attending church, I began to see that Christianity just couldn't be right due to all of its self-contradictions. It's like saying "I love chocolate" and "I hate chocolate." Only one of those can be true. But Christians twist that to mean "I have a love-hate relationship with chocolate," which almost makes sense... but that's not what they said!
So anyways, more time passed, and although I now had no reason to believe in Christianity, I still admired Jesus and some teachings of the Bible, and still believed in some sort of God. I thought, if there is nothing after life, what's the point? Isn't that just so depressing? I went on convincing myself there HAD to be a God for life to matter. Whenever I thought about the possibility of there being nothing after this life, I wanted to curl up in a ball and lie in bed. Only within the past year have I realized the fallacies of this thought-process.
A few friends of mine have become increasingly open about their own atheism. I think there was one thing I read about atheism that compared this sort of event to a homosexual's coming-out, and although I know they have their major differences, they are, in some ways, quite comparable. Anyways, at first I didn't understand why they would choose to just NOT believe in God. In the past, whenever I saw someone "lose faith" or declare their disbelief, it was often out of sadness. I wasn't about to pull some "God works in mysterious ways" bullshit, but my rationalization was, "Maybe God stopped paying attention, maybe he made the universe and now is just letting it do its own thing, like a scientist with a petri dish."Something like that. The possibilities were endless. The point is, I didn't want to just stop believing in God because something bad happened. But I realized that this isn't what happened. They just had no reason to believe. The evidence is not there. On top of this, life didn't have less meaning without God... it had more meaning.
It took awhile for this thought-process to evolve in my own mind, but now, when I think about life and death... I think about how my time in this world is finite, fragile, and precious. I can interact with my surroundings. I can experience an incredible array of emotions. I can change things. I can affect other people and living things. By the miracles of science, the molecules in my body have coalesced to form me for a brief instant in the history of this universe, after being around for billions, perhaps trillions, probably even more years. I won't be here for much longer. I need to get up out of this seat, I need to see what this life has to offer. I want to see the world. I want to help everyone I can. I want to learn everything there is to know. I want to get out of Sequim! I want to spend as much time with my girlfriend and other friends as possible. I want to make MORE friends. I want to meet everyone, nasty and nice. I want to teach music to kids that have nothing. I want to become a better musician. I want to write beautiful music. I want to live life. I may not follow this motto all the time, but now, when I think about the possibility that there is no God, there is no afterlife... that's when I'm at my happiest.
"Carpe diem quam minimum credula postero." "Seize the day, and place no trust in tomorrow."
--Jon
There ARE some atheists that irk me a little bit. Some simply say, "God does not exist." "I can prove that God does not exist." Simply put, no, you can't prove that. Just as theists can't prove that God(s) DO(ES) exist, atheists cannot prove that God(s) do(es) NOT exist. There's no way to know either way. But let's think through a few scenarios.
1. An individual believes in God and there is a God. He devotes his life to God. He dies and goes to heaven and lives an eternal afterlife of happiness.
END RESULT: A life devoted to an invisible being and a fulfilled afterlife
2. An individual does not believe in God and there is a God. He tries to live life to the fullest. He dies and goes to Hell for no good reason (unless the God is not the Christian one and isn't a total jerk-face).
END RESULT: A life devoted to whatever he wants and eternal damnation
3. An individual believes in God and there is no God. He devotes his life to God. He dies and becomes dust.
END RESULT: A life devoted to an invisible being and then nothing
4. An individual does not believe in God and there is no God. He tries to live life to the fullest. He dies and becomes dust.
END RESULT: A life devoted to whatever he wants and then nothing
Obviously, this list is a little biased to my own beliefs, and it's definitely oversimplified. But to recap... If one believes in God, either eternal happiness or wasted time (not necesarily, but... mission trips (the non-humanitarian ones) and any time spent worshipping). If one does not believe in God, either eternal damnation from a total asshole of a God who doesn't deserve worshipping, or a life well spent (again, not necesarily, but I'm not totally finished). On second thought, there are so many possibilities out there... perhaps a God would reward atheism because of the signs that point to it? Kind of weird, but again, possible. This whole idea is getting ridiculous so I'm just going to move on from it.
Perhaps a little of my religious history is in order. From late elementary school to early high school, I considered myself a Christian, attending the church of a friend of mine as regularly as I could. I can't remember the first time I was invited, but I remember I believed in some sort of God before I first went to church. I don't think my parents explicitly taught me that God existed, but they definitely alluded to it. That church just told me all the specifics about that God. Throughout the years, I convinced myself that they were right, and they convinced me that they were right... but looking back now, I know there was always this nagging feeling that there was just something inherently wrong with some of the stuff they were saying. In the back of my mind, I thought then what I did now: what if I just hadn't discovered Christianity? I was condemned to Satan's hellfire? Makes no sense. So over the years, especially after I stopped attending church, I began to see that Christianity just couldn't be right due to all of its self-contradictions. It's like saying "I love chocolate" and "I hate chocolate." Only one of those can be true. But Christians twist that to mean "I have a love-hate relationship with chocolate," which almost makes sense... but that's not what they said!
So anyways, more time passed, and although I now had no reason to believe in Christianity, I still admired Jesus and some teachings of the Bible, and still believed in some sort of God. I thought, if there is nothing after life, what's the point? Isn't that just so depressing? I went on convincing myself there HAD to be a God for life to matter. Whenever I thought about the possibility of there being nothing after this life, I wanted to curl up in a ball and lie in bed. Only within the past year have I realized the fallacies of this thought-process.
A few friends of mine have become increasingly open about their own atheism. I think there was one thing I read about atheism that compared this sort of event to a homosexual's coming-out, and although I know they have their major differences, they are, in some ways, quite comparable. Anyways, at first I didn't understand why they would choose to just NOT believe in God. In the past, whenever I saw someone "lose faith" or declare their disbelief, it was often out of sadness. I wasn't about to pull some "God works in mysterious ways" bullshit, but my rationalization was, "Maybe God stopped paying attention, maybe he made the universe and now is just letting it do its own thing, like a scientist with a petri dish."Something like that. The possibilities were endless. The point is, I didn't want to just stop believing in God because something bad happened. But I realized that this isn't what happened. They just had no reason to believe. The evidence is not there. On top of this, life didn't have less meaning without God... it had more meaning.
It took awhile for this thought-process to evolve in my own mind, but now, when I think about life and death... I think about how my time in this world is finite, fragile, and precious. I can interact with my surroundings. I can experience an incredible array of emotions. I can change things. I can affect other people and living things. By the miracles of science, the molecules in my body have coalesced to form me for a brief instant in the history of this universe, after being around for billions, perhaps trillions, probably even more years. I won't be here for much longer. I need to get up out of this seat, I need to see what this life has to offer. I want to see the world. I want to help everyone I can. I want to learn everything there is to know. I want to get out of Sequim! I want to spend as much time with my girlfriend and other friends as possible. I want to make MORE friends. I want to meet everyone, nasty and nice. I want to teach music to kids that have nothing. I want to become a better musician. I want to write beautiful music. I want to live life. I may not follow this motto all the time, but now, when I think about the possibility that there is no God, there is no afterlife... that's when I'm at my happiest.
"Carpe diem quam minimum credula postero." "Seize the day, and place no trust in tomorrow."
--Jon
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Rise Up! Rise Up!
I'll be frank: I'm not religious. Religion works for some people, but in most cases I've experienced, I'm not fond of it. This particularly applies to Christianity, but this may be because that's the only religion I've had much of any experience with. However, I do have to say I had no problems when I went with Elie to the Chabad House and experienced brief glimpses of Judaism; I've never felt more comfortable in a religious environment than I did there.
In any case, I was thinking recently about how awesome this song and its lyrics are, so I'm going to share them with you lucky readers. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you "Rise Up! Rise Up!" by Cursive.
~ * ~
Dear preacher, thanks for making time for me today
Hope you don't mind if I hide behind the curtain
It's been fifteen years since my last confession
By your good book's standards, I've sinned like a champion
But that book seems a tad bit out-dated
Please forgive me, for questioning divinity
It's an ugly job, but I think I'm up for it
I'm not saying who's right
I'm just saying there's more than one way
To skin a religion
There's more than one way
To explain our existence
Reverend, sir, I don't want to seem malevolent
My teenage angst is far behind me
But father, certainly it's troubling to see
All these people kneeling, instead of dealing
With the fact that we are all we have
So, rise up! rise up!
There's no one to worship!
But plenty of life to lose!
I'm not saying "Let's burn down the church"
But do you want to hear my confession?
It's my greatest sin...
Okay, here it is:
I wasted half my life on the thought that I'd live forever!
I wasn't raised to seize the day, but to work and worship
'Cause "He that liveth and believeth" supposedly never dies
Rise up! rise up!
Live a full life!
'cause when it's over, it's done
So rise up! Rise up!
Dance and scream and love!
~ * ~
--Jon
In any case, I was thinking recently about how awesome this song and its lyrics are, so I'm going to share them with you lucky readers. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you "Rise Up! Rise Up!" by Cursive.
~ * ~
Dear preacher, thanks for making time for me today
Hope you don't mind if I hide behind the curtain
It's been fifteen years since my last confession
By your good book's standards, I've sinned like a champion
But that book seems a tad bit out-dated
Please forgive me, for questioning divinity
It's an ugly job, but I think I'm up for it
I'm not saying who's right
I'm just saying there's more than one way
To skin a religion
There's more than one way
To explain our existence
Reverend, sir, I don't want to seem malevolent
My teenage angst is far behind me
But father, certainly it's troubling to see
All these people kneeling, instead of dealing
With the fact that we are all we have
So, rise up! rise up!
There's no one to worship!
But plenty of life to lose!
I'm not saying "Let's burn down the church"
But do you want to hear my confession?
It's my greatest sin...
Okay, here it is:
I wasted half my life on the thought that I'd live forever!
I wasn't raised to seize the day, but to work and worship
'Cause "He that liveth and believeth" supposedly never dies
Rise up! rise up!
Live a full life!
'cause when it's over, it's done
So rise up! Rise up!
Dance and scream and love!
~ * ~
--Jon
Saturday, August 8, 2009
We Now Pass the Baton to You
Another blog = Elie finished a new book. And the book I finished was The Freedom Writers Diary - How a Teacher and 150 Teens Used Writing to Change Themselves and the World Around Them.
Reading this book aroused several seemingly-disjointed ideas and questions:
-How likely is it that Erin Gruwell's (the teacher) methods are repeatable? What she did was amazing, especially as a first-year teacher. She stayed with her class (well, several classes for a total of 150 students) for all four years of high school. After her first batch of kids graduated, she stopped teaching at Wilson High School and taught at a university. She continues to be an inspiration to her past students and to future teachers, but the point is that she stopped teaching high school. In the movie based on this book, some faculty members asked Erin if she could repeat what she had done with other kids in years to come. Her answer was, "I don't know." She put an incredible amount of time, energy, and money into those first four years, and it's incredibly daunting to live up to her standards or to even make a fraction of a difference as she made.
-The good news is that there is another book (and a new one coming out in a few weeks) that is all about Erin Gruwell's methods of teaching. What she does now is teach her methods to other teachers so that her accomplishments with the Freedom Writers isn't particularly outstanding in comparison to other classes. Her efforts are currently concentrated to reproducing her method of teaching, and I really want to learn what she has to say. She even has an institute for current teachers, so I know that repeating what she did is possible.
-Erin Gruwell spent a great deal of money to take her kids on field trips to New York and Europe. She also brought people from all over the world to meet her students. She worked a second job with a famous hotel company to support her and her students' endeavours. I've heard that a lot of the "best" teachers must take on second or third jobs in order to raise enough money to take their kids to museums and on field trips outside of their dismal neighborhoods. I don't mind working hard, but it's exhausting just thinking about planning lessons, working a second job, and having a life. I know it's possible and that it's all the more rewarding, but it's still daunting.
-In the movie The Freedom Writers, Erin and her husband got divorced because Erin was spending so much time with her students and working her second job. Plus, her husband seemed to be kind of an unsupportive jerk. I'm not even sure if Erin did divorce her husband because it wasn't mentioned in the book, but it makes me worry. Will Jon and I continue to have a stable relationship when one or both of us will be occupied by teaching? I have no desire to be a stereotypical teacher who spends the minimal amount of time with the students and at school, and I hope my goal of being a super fantabulous teacher won't affect my relationship with Jon. And I know this is far in the future...but it's kind of not. In 4 or 5 ... or 6 years we'll be looking for teaching jobs, and we'll be put to the test.
-There were several paragraphs I highlighted simply because of the inspiration the words provided. It wasn't just that the words were beautiful but that they came from troubled high school students who were transformed by brilliant teaching methods. One of the parts was: "I know that there is not a day that will go by, when I believe something is wrong, I won't do anything about it. It is better to take a chance and make a change, than it is to pass and pity." Especially after reading Jonathan Kozol and Paul Tough's books, I've become even more inspired to do something. Not only do I want to do something, I want students to do something.
-Another such sentence is: "If they were educated, like I am, they'd learn to see past shades and beyond exteriors and see people." I found it heartwarming to know that these kids who were once deemed the failures of the school were the ones admitting that education is so important. These kids took charge of their education, and thus took charge of their entire lives.
-A favorite of mine: "In any and every situation, nonaction is never a sane and rational approach." These are powerful words, considering that me sitting here, not taking action, is actually insane and irrational. And I agree. I'm not exactly sure what I can do at this point in time, but I'm determined to do something.
-A similar statement: "Silence ensures that history repeats itself." It's frustrating to me that so few people know about the inequalities facing kids and schools. I wish there was a way to make everybody aware and caring. While it's difficult for me to impact many kids while I'm juggling college courses and college life in general, the least I can do is make people aware. How I'll do so has yet to be determined. But until nobody is silent about the disadvantages facing so many of America's youth, history will continue on its current, cruel path.
-One student wrote about Ms. Gruwell: "Most teachers aren't like that; they give you your homework and then send you on your way, never getting to know you. Ms. Gruwell is so much different. She gets to know you...she wants to get to know you." This statement made me fairly confident that I can be a successful teacher because, like Erin Gruwell, I care about kids and I want to get to know them. I have no intention of throwing out homework and sending kids on their way. For that one reason, I know I'll be an above average teacher simply because I care.
-The final paragraph of the epilogue reads: "The Freedom Writers see this book as their third leg of the relay race. Anne's story inspired Zlata, who has been hailed as the modern-day Anne Frank. Zlata then reciprocated by passing the baton to the Freedom Writers. We hope this book will inspire you to be the fourth leg of the race by encouraging you to pick up a pen and be a catalyst for change." This paragraph was written by Erin herself, and, after reading it, I felt the need to give her a hug and thank her, because I so badly want to be a catalyst for change. It's difficult for me to sit here in my sheltered home in the middle of nowhere when I can be doing something big and important. Then I remember that I don't have teaching credentials and I have a lot to learn, but I know that by learning about The Freedom Writers and the Harlem Children's Zone and lots of other catalysts for change, I can be educated enough and aware of how to best tackle future challenges I will face as a teacher in the years to come.
-While reading this book, I began to feel lucky and proud that I chose to obtain an English endorsement, because the written (and spoken) word is so powerful. Erin also used English to teacher her students about history, another subject I wish to teach. I'm also glad that my major is based on anthropology, which teaches, above all else, tolerance and understanding. I feel like I have the passion for and knowledge of the humanities to make an impact on kids. I believe that all subjects are equally important, but I feel as though my tools to institute change will come from my love and knowledge of English, anthropology, and history...and my love for students, of course. Maybe now I'll pay more attention in anthropology and history courses...
--Elie
Reading this book aroused several seemingly-disjointed ideas and questions:
-How likely is it that Erin Gruwell's (the teacher) methods are repeatable? What she did was amazing, especially as a first-year teacher. She stayed with her class (well, several classes for a total of 150 students) for all four years of high school. After her first batch of kids graduated, she stopped teaching at Wilson High School and taught at a university. She continues to be an inspiration to her past students and to future teachers, but the point is that she stopped teaching high school. In the movie based on this book, some faculty members asked Erin if she could repeat what she had done with other kids in years to come. Her answer was, "I don't know." She put an incredible amount of time, energy, and money into those first four years, and it's incredibly daunting to live up to her standards or to even make a fraction of a difference as she made.
-The good news is that there is another book (and a new one coming out in a few weeks) that is all about Erin Gruwell's methods of teaching. What she does now is teach her methods to other teachers so that her accomplishments with the Freedom Writers isn't particularly outstanding in comparison to other classes. Her efforts are currently concentrated to reproducing her method of teaching, and I really want to learn what she has to say. She even has an institute for current teachers, so I know that repeating what she did is possible.
-Erin Gruwell spent a great deal of money to take her kids on field trips to New York and Europe. She also brought people from all over the world to meet her students. She worked a second job with a famous hotel company to support her and her students' endeavours. I've heard that a lot of the "best" teachers must take on second or third jobs in order to raise enough money to take their kids to museums and on field trips outside of their dismal neighborhoods. I don't mind working hard, but it's exhausting just thinking about planning lessons, working a second job, and having a life. I know it's possible and that it's all the more rewarding, but it's still daunting.
-In the movie The Freedom Writers, Erin and her husband got divorced because Erin was spending so much time with her students and working her second job. Plus, her husband seemed to be kind of an unsupportive jerk. I'm not even sure if Erin did divorce her husband because it wasn't mentioned in the book, but it makes me worry. Will Jon and I continue to have a stable relationship when one or both of us will be occupied by teaching? I have no desire to be a stereotypical teacher who spends the minimal amount of time with the students and at school, and I hope my goal of being a super fantabulous teacher won't affect my relationship with Jon. And I know this is far in the future...but it's kind of not. In 4 or 5 ... or 6 years we'll be looking for teaching jobs, and we'll be put to the test.
-There were several paragraphs I highlighted simply because of the inspiration the words provided. It wasn't just that the words were beautiful but that they came from troubled high school students who were transformed by brilliant teaching methods. One of the parts was: "I know that there is not a day that will go by, when I believe something is wrong, I won't do anything about it. It is better to take a chance and make a change, than it is to pass and pity." Especially after reading Jonathan Kozol and Paul Tough's books, I've become even more inspired to do something. Not only do I want to do something, I want students to do something.
-Another such sentence is: "If they were educated, like I am, they'd learn to see past shades and beyond exteriors and see people." I found it heartwarming to know that these kids who were once deemed the failures of the school were the ones admitting that education is so important. These kids took charge of their education, and thus took charge of their entire lives.
-A favorite of mine: "In any and every situation, nonaction is never a sane and rational approach." These are powerful words, considering that me sitting here, not taking action, is actually insane and irrational. And I agree. I'm not exactly sure what I can do at this point in time, but I'm determined to do something.
-A similar statement: "Silence ensures that history repeats itself." It's frustrating to me that so few people know about the inequalities facing kids and schools. I wish there was a way to make everybody aware and caring. While it's difficult for me to impact many kids while I'm juggling college courses and college life in general, the least I can do is make people aware. How I'll do so has yet to be determined. But until nobody is silent about the disadvantages facing so many of America's youth, history will continue on its current, cruel path.
-One student wrote about Ms. Gruwell: "Most teachers aren't like that; they give you your homework and then send you on your way, never getting to know you. Ms. Gruwell is so much different. She gets to know you...she wants to get to know you." This statement made me fairly confident that I can be a successful teacher because, like Erin Gruwell, I care about kids and I want to get to know them. I have no intention of throwing out homework and sending kids on their way. For that one reason, I know I'll be an above average teacher simply because I care.
-The final paragraph of the epilogue reads: "The Freedom Writers see this book as their third leg of the relay race. Anne's story inspired Zlata, who has been hailed as the modern-day Anne Frank. Zlata then reciprocated by passing the baton to the Freedom Writers. We hope this book will inspire you to be the fourth leg of the race by encouraging you to pick up a pen and be a catalyst for change." This paragraph was written by Erin herself, and, after reading it, I felt the need to give her a hug and thank her, because I so badly want to be a catalyst for change. It's difficult for me to sit here in my sheltered home in the middle of nowhere when I can be doing something big and important. Then I remember that I don't have teaching credentials and I have a lot to learn, but I know that by learning about The Freedom Writers and the Harlem Children's Zone and lots of other catalysts for change, I can be educated enough and aware of how to best tackle future challenges I will face as a teacher in the years to come.
-While reading this book, I began to feel lucky and proud that I chose to obtain an English endorsement, because the written (and spoken) word is so powerful. Erin also used English to teacher her students about history, another subject I wish to teach. I'm also glad that my major is based on anthropology, which teaches, above all else, tolerance and understanding. I feel like I have the passion for and knowledge of the humanities to make an impact on kids. I believe that all subjects are equally important, but I feel as though my tools to institute change will come from my love and knowledge of English, anthropology, and history...and my love for students, of course. Maybe now I'll pay more attention in anthropology and history courses...
--Elie
Monday, August 3, 2009
Shun. Shun the nonbeliever. Shunnnnnn.
Made it through one day of camp Ruach Shovava.
And it was pretty much like any other camp day, I suppose. I missed camp last year but I was there the year previous, so it was sort of a home-coming. Only not really.
There are a ton of counselors-in-training this year, many of which are annoying, preppy girls, but luckily they are usually not around me much, and the ones in my morning group are easy to get along with. However, they make camp just a tad less enjoyable, although I do pride myself for not slipping into the trap of wearing a ton of makeup and dressing all preppy or gothic, or attaching myself to a label - or attaching a label to myself. Yeah, I guess the latter makes more sense.
What made today (and probably the future) a little difficult was this girl who is a counselor for the second year. We sort of made friends for the first time last year after knowing each other since pre-school, and I thought all was fine and dandy between us. But during the prep meeting on Sunday and during camp today, she totally ignored me. She also formed this sort of elite group with her, another counselor who I never got along with very well, and two other counselors who are usually pretty nice to me and who I consider friends. But they had this little clique going and I had to take a step back and understand that I wasn't wanted. I've always had this problem at Sunday School, but I thought the one or two girls would be more mature about it. And maybe they don't know they're doing it, because the members of the whole "elitist" group have been friends for a while and I'm seen as an intruder. I understand. It happens.
I was taken by surprise and was pretty disappointed that I was shunned from the "in" group, but then I realized that the surprise probably occurred because I've been so used to having the most magnificent friend ever...Jon. He's always always always been there and always makes me feel good about myself, and then I was all of a sudden stuck in this position where I was an outcast. And as a disclaimer, Ina is probably the only other friend who hasn't made me feel all shunned and whatnot but since she's a meanie face and doesn't go to Western and spend every waking moment of her free time with me, Jon is the winner. :D
So tomorrow I'll walk into the synagogue doors and keep in mind that although I'm welcomed by the campers (at least I THINK I'm welcomed), I need not try to be friendly with the counselors. I mean, I'll chat with a few of them when we're doing a project or something, but when that one particular girl is around the nicer counselors, they all flock to her. But I'm there for the kids, not the counselors.
I also find it ironic that this is all taking place in a religious setting. I've always felt disconnected and outcasted by many Jewish people, and trying to belong in that synagogue and with those Jewish people is sort of a ridiculous.
--Elie (who needs to write less and tell Jon to write more)
And it was pretty much like any other camp day, I suppose. I missed camp last year but I was there the year previous, so it was sort of a home-coming. Only not really.
There are a ton of counselors-in-training this year, many of which are annoying, preppy girls, but luckily they are usually not around me much, and the ones in my morning group are easy to get along with. However, they make camp just a tad less enjoyable, although I do pride myself for not slipping into the trap of wearing a ton of makeup and dressing all preppy or gothic, or attaching myself to a label - or attaching a label to myself. Yeah, I guess the latter makes more sense.
What made today (and probably the future) a little difficult was this girl who is a counselor for the second year. We sort of made friends for the first time last year after knowing each other since pre-school, and I thought all was fine and dandy between us. But during the prep meeting on Sunday and during camp today, she totally ignored me. She also formed this sort of elite group with her, another counselor who I never got along with very well, and two other counselors who are usually pretty nice to me and who I consider friends. But they had this little clique going and I had to take a step back and understand that I wasn't wanted. I've always had this problem at Sunday School, but I thought the one or two girls would be more mature about it. And maybe they don't know they're doing it, because the members of the whole "elitist" group have been friends for a while and I'm seen as an intruder. I understand. It happens.
I was taken by surprise and was pretty disappointed that I was shunned from the "in" group, but then I realized that the surprise probably occurred because I've been so used to having the most magnificent friend ever...Jon. He's always always always been there and always makes me feel good about myself, and then I was all of a sudden stuck in this position where I was an outcast. And as a disclaimer, Ina is probably the only other friend who hasn't made me feel all shunned and whatnot but since she's a meanie face and doesn't go to Western and spend every waking moment of her free time with me, Jon is the winner. :D
So tomorrow I'll walk into the synagogue doors and keep in mind that although I'm welcomed by the campers (at least I THINK I'm welcomed), I need not try to be friendly with the counselors. I mean, I'll chat with a few of them when we're doing a project or something, but when that one particular girl is around the nicer counselors, they all flock to her. But I'm there for the kids, not the counselors.
I also find it ironic that this is all taking place in a religious setting. I've always felt disconnected and outcasted by many Jewish people, and trying to belong in that synagogue and with those Jewish people is sort of a ridiculous.
--Elie (who needs to write less and tell Jon to write more)
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Just a Thought
Jon and I are both in a club at Western called Students for Educational Equality. One of our yearly goals is to raise something like $1500 to give to a low-income student coming to Western. This is a great idea, but I think the funds could be put to better use. I was just researching the Harlem Children's Zone on the Internet, and our funds can go towards helping students and families of this program. I like my idea better because we would be helping kids to go to college not because they don't have the money, but because they would never have had the opportunity due to the lack of education. I just read that the kids who are going to college straight from the HCZ have received about 6 million dollars in scholarship funds between 190 students. It appears that they are not lacking in funds because they have made great progress and are excellent scholarship material. What we can assist with is keeping these kids going through the program. And let's face it, if I'm a college student who's lacking in funds, receiving $1500 for one year isn't going to get me through college. After all, we're in favor of equality - not just low-income and high income inequality, but racial inequality too.
--Elie
--Elie
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Some Current Musical Endeavors of Mine
This summer, I planned on writing an album of "solo" music with an overarching theme; something along the lines of "nature vs. technology" or something. While I still have a couple of songs in mind with this theme, I've generally abandoned it. I also originally planned on trying to make an actual album out of this that I could duplicate, package, and sell to friends, possibly record stores, and maybe even a record label. I also hoped to send it to the EMP SoundOff, thinking maybe I could play that and even some other shows using "backing tracks" off of my Zune and/or laptop, but that might be more trouble than it's worth. In any case, I've been doing far less writing and recording than I originally planned, but I've still got some songs done, and more in the process of being done, and even more in my head waiting to get started on.
FINISHED SONGS:
"Cabin Fever": This was the first song I finished over spring break after I left Elie's house and came home to an empty house devoid of my parents; they went on a vacation to California to see family. I was bored, had writer's block, everyone was busy, there was nothing to do, I was lonely, etc. The song came rather quickly to me, although the concept of "weird-bare-bones-ambinet-ish-electronic-percussion-with-stacked-vocal-harmonies" had been in the back of my mind for some time. I lifted the chord progression from a song from the game Final Fantasy VII (click here to listen!). It was kinda hard to sing the weird rhythm. The sound effect at the beginning consists of me rattling my keys and then me blowing into a SoBe bottle, with a bunch of effects put on both of them. Also, I put distortion on my voice. Because it sounds more EDGY. Or something.
"Post-Apocalyptic Blues": I started working on this before "Cabin Fever," and then got writer's block, so took a break from it. Everything from the intro to verse was something I had in my back-catalog for upwards of a year, but never got a chance to actually use. The lyrics and a bit of the melody had been written during winter quarter totally separate from this song, but I soon realized that they worked together pretty well. I made the intro with my phaser and delay pedals on the guitar. The lyrics were inspired by I Am Legend, The Stand, Fallout 3, and other various post-apocalyptic stories, for which I have an unreasonable admiration.
"Ostrich in a Casket": After writing those two super-duper-serious songs, I decided I needed to lighten up a little and write a stupid song. So I came up with some annoying riffs and set out to write an obnoxious and outrageous super-fast two-minute song. The song title was inspired by a conversation Elie and I were having on the phone. There was an awkward silence and then said the first two random words that popped into my head: "Ostrich. Casket." Also, the night before I had a dream about Justin Timberlake leading a street gang, and another dream about penguins in Antarctica. Urban ninjas (what I call participants of parkour) and falling down an up-escalator (seriously... think about that) are two subjects I had wanted to write songs about, but during the writing of this I realized they don't really warrant entire songs (well, okay maybe they still do, but those would be weird-ass songs... as if this isn't...).
"Straight From the Heart": John von and I set out to write an awful late 2000's R&B song using auto-tune. This is the result. The lyrics consist of the stupidest love-song cliches we could possibly think up. The title came from the realization of how many musicians have a song called "Straight From the Heart," but we decided to put a ridiculous spin on it. We knew from the get-go we'd have to have some awfully placed "Shawtay"'s and "Motha-fucka"'s. John wrote the main synth-riff on the guitar. The key-change at the end was different from how we originally planned, but it worked.
Other songs I've been working on:
"Livin' It Up": It starts out as a throwback-rock-ish song, and then there's a verse with acoustic guitar and djembe, and then a buildup with ambient electric guitar and Phil Collins-ish electronic drums, then a guitar solo, then it gets all quiet and weird and moody for the last third of the song... I haven't written lyrics but I want to make them about unsustainable lifestyle(s) or something along those lines. Basically all I have is a bit of a chorus. But almost all of the music is done.
"[Latin Hip-Hop Folk]": I'm taking a Latin hip-hop drum beat and stuff and putting it underneath a downbeat folky song. That's all I have thus far.
"[Escalator]": A little electro-funk thing I've had in the closet for awhile.
"Southern Sun": I don't know why I haven't started working on this; maybe it's too serious for my mood(s) as of late? I originally planned for this to be all orchestral and epic, with violin, cello, clarinet, flute, timpani, concert bass drum, crotales, bells, and all sorts of other crazy stuff, along with drums, guitars, and vocals and such. It'll probably be relatively normal now. I thought of the lyrics while waiting for the bus at the end of Fall quarter, and wrote them during Physics 104. That class was super-easy.
"Tempest": Another similar to the last song, but instrumental.
John Von and I are going to write two more songs this week, hopefully. One will be a bad 80s duet-ballad, and the other will be a stupid southern-piano-butt-rock uber-patriotic song.
There are also a few songs I've either thought of covering or started and then stopped. The one that I am currently working on and hope to finish on Monday is "All the Trees of the Fields Will Clap Their Hands," by Sufjan Stevens, off of his Seven Swans album. It's very repetitive, so it should be easy to complete pretty quickly.
Anyways, I still hope to compile all of these songs into an "album," possibly with album art, and I may still send it in to SoundOff, and I may still try to play some songs live at open mic or something. We'll see how things go.
--Jon
FINISHED SONGS:
"Cabin Fever": This was the first song I finished over spring break after I left Elie's house and came home to an empty house devoid of my parents; they went on a vacation to California to see family. I was bored, had writer's block, everyone was busy, there was nothing to do, I was lonely, etc. The song came rather quickly to me, although the concept of "weird-bare-bones-ambinet-ish-electronic-percussion-with-stacked-vocal-harmonies" had been in the back of my mind for some time. I lifted the chord progression from a song from the game Final Fantasy VII (click here to listen!). It was kinda hard to sing the weird rhythm. The sound effect at the beginning consists of me rattling my keys and then me blowing into a SoBe bottle, with a bunch of effects put on both of them. Also, I put distortion on my voice. Because it sounds more EDGY. Or something.
"Post-Apocalyptic Blues": I started working on this before "Cabin Fever," and then got writer's block, so took a break from it. Everything from the intro to verse was something I had in my back-catalog for upwards of a year, but never got a chance to actually use. The lyrics and a bit of the melody had been written during winter quarter totally separate from this song, but I soon realized that they worked together pretty well. I made the intro with my phaser and delay pedals on the guitar. The lyrics were inspired by I Am Legend, The Stand, Fallout 3, and other various post-apocalyptic stories, for which I have an unreasonable admiration.
"Ostrich in a Casket": After writing those two super-duper-serious songs, I decided I needed to lighten up a little and write a stupid song. So I came up with some annoying riffs and set out to write an obnoxious and outrageous super-fast two-minute song. The song title was inspired by a conversation Elie and I were having on the phone. There was an awkward silence and then said the first two random words that popped into my head: "Ostrich. Casket." Also, the night before I had a dream about Justin Timberlake leading a street gang, and another dream about penguins in Antarctica. Urban ninjas (what I call participants of parkour) and falling down an up-escalator (seriously... think about that) are two subjects I had wanted to write songs about, but during the writing of this I realized they don't really warrant entire songs (well, okay maybe they still do, but those would be weird-ass songs... as if this isn't...).
"Straight From the Heart": John von and I set out to write an awful late 2000's R&B song using auto-tune. This is the result. The lyrics consist of the stupidest love-song cliches we could possibly think up. The title came from the realization of how many musicians have a song called "Straight From the Heart," but we decided to put a ridiculous spin on it. We knew from the get-go we'd have to have some awfully placed "Shawtay"'s and "Motha-fucka"'s. John wrote the main synth-riff on the guitar. The key-change at the end was different from how we originally planned, but it worked.
Other songs I've been working on:
"Livin' It Up": It starts out as a throwback-rock-ish song, and then there's a verse with acoustic guitar and djembe, and then a buildup with ambient electric guitar and Phil Collins-ish electronic drums, then a guitar solo, then it gets all quiet and weird and moody for the last third of the song... I haven't written lyrics but I want to make them about unsustainable lifestyle(s) or something along those lines. Basically all I have is a bit of a chorus. But almost all of the music is done.
"[Latin Hip-Hop Folk]": I'm taking a Latin hip-hop drum beat and stuff and putting it underneath a downbeat folky song. That's all I have thus far.
"[Escalator]": A little electro-funk thing I've had in the closet for awhile.
"Southern Sun": I don't know why I haven't started working on this; maybe it's too serious for my mood(s) as of late? I originally planned for this to be all orchestral and epic, with violin, cello, clarinet, flute, timpani, concert bass drum, crotales, bells, and all sorts of other crazy stuff, along with drums, guitars, and vocals and such. It'll probably be relatively normal now. I thought of the lyrics while waiting for the bus at the end of Fall quarter, and wrote them during Physics 104. That class was super-easy.
"Tempest": Another similar to the last song, but instrumental.
John Von and I are going to write two more songs this week, hopefully. One will be a bad 80s duet-ballad, and the other will be a stupid southern-piano-butt-rock uber-patriotic song.
There are also a few songs I've either thought of covering or started and then stopped. The one that I am currently working on and hope to finish on Monday is "All the Trees of the Fields Will Clap Their Hands," by Sufjan Stevens, off of his Seven Swans album. It's very repetitive, so it should be easy to complete pretty quickly.
Anyways, I still hope to compile all of these songs into an "album," possibly with album art, and I may still send it in to SoundOff, and I may still try to play some songs live at open mic or something. We'll see how things go.
--Jon
Whatever It Takes
I just finished a book by Paul Tough called Whatever It Takes: Geoffrey Canada's Quest to Change Harlem and America.
It was about this guy, Canada, who has this goal to transform Harlem and America by closing the achievement gap and thus getting more low-income (and mostly African American) kids though high school and college. He set up the Harlem Children's Zone where expecting parents learn about parenting. Then their three-year-olds attend a preschool, then a kindergarten, and finally middle school specifically for low-income students of Harlem. It's much more complicated than this, but Canada's goal is to create a net that kids cannot fall through; where they'll have no choice but to succeed because they have all the resources, and everybody around them will be doing the same.
This book wasn't just interesting because of what it taught me about this Harlem project that is going on at this very moment, but it also taught me about why so many low-income Americans are African American. From what I took from this book, more African Americans live with a lower-income and in the projects than do white people because African Americans haven't yet completely recovered from discrimination. (One could also argue that white (and any other color) Americans haven't recovered because they're doing the discriminating...) Many obviously have recovered, but because they tend to live together for support (due to discrimination), African Americans were still discriminated against and left out of the loop that would help them prepare for jobs and teach them how to raise children according to the "correct" middle-class, American standard.
These people aren't bad parents; they're just different. For example, they don't promote eye-contact with their children, which hinders children in a society where strong eye contact is valued. African American families tend to not promote conversations with their children between parents and children. Adults are to be looked up to and respected rather than talked to on level ground with a young child. Again, this isn't the norm with all African American families, but it is with a majority of low-income families, no matter the color. In essence, kids are being raised so differently and in more difficult circumstances, often with a young, single mother with little money and in a society where many families live off welfare and don't have a decent education. And, most schools are of poor quality.
To quote the book: "However you measure parenting, middle-class parents tend to do it very differently from poor parents - and the path they follow, in turn, tends to give their children an array of advantages, both cognitive and non-cognitive: a bigger vocabulary, better brain chemistry, a more assertive attitude. As Lareau pointed out, kids from poor families might be nicer, they might be happier, they might be more polite -- but in countless ways the manner in which they are raised puts them at a disadvantage in the measures that count in contemporary American society."
I'm beginning to better understand how charter schools work. The students are chosen by lottery, but most of the parents who enter their children in the lottery are upper- or middle-class because they're more motivated to do so. Charter schools produce great students and great test scores compared to most public schools, but that's because of the quality of students they have. Most charter schools make the smart and wealthy smarter and wealthier.
This book further convinced me that I want to work at a low-income school. According to this book, experienced teachers can usually choose where they teach, and they almost always choose to go to a wealthier school - where they're needed least. The teachers with the least experienced are left with the jobs at low-income schools where good, experienced teachers are needed most. I think I may have written something about this topic in my blog about Jonathan Kozol's book. But anyway, knowing that I'll be needed more in a low-income school has made me want to teach there even more. Why teach where the kids already have the resources and where there are plenty of great teachers who can teach them the necessary material? It takes a truly gifted teacher to teach low-income students who have grown up disadvantaged from the beginning and how are forced to attend school with limited materials.
Geoffrey Canada said, "I want to get out of the business of trying to save failing students before their lives are destroyed. I've been in that business, and it's a tough business and a good business, and I'm glad some people are in it--but I really think it's the wrong place to focus." What Canada means is that efforts should be focused more on the children at a very young age so that they never get to the point where they're failing or disadvantaged because it takes a great deal of strength, energy, time, and resources to "save" kids. His endeavors with Harlem Children's Zone have proven his point; the kids who are in the program basically from birth flourish while the middle school students who entered the program in 6th grade are hopeless or almost hopeless. I realize that, more than likely, I'll be in the "saving kids business" because I don't want to teach elementary school. I probably wouldn't hate teaching the younger ones, but my niche is with the older kids. I know that a difference can be made, but I'll have to work very, very hard. I'm currently reading The Freedom Writers Diary and I'm starting to get an idea of how to reach kids who are "disadvantaged" and need saving. Canada also said, "If we continue waiting until middle and high school to intervene with poor students of color, I just don't think that we're going to change the numbers in America as a whole." This statement made me a little discouraged. Why should I teach middle and high school if I can't make a difference? Well, Canada isn't out to change a single person or class or school. He's off to change all of America. I'm not shooting for the stars like him, for better or worse. I want to make a difference, and I know that I can do so -- one class at a time. There are so many examples of secondary school teachers changing the lives of his or her students, and I want to be part of those success stories.
Furthermore, there will always be secondary school students who need help, and I want to be part of the help that they receive. In fact, they need help more than younger kids, even if the younger ones can avoid falling into desolation and failure, but the secondary school kids can still be saved from that failure; we can't just label them as a lost cause.
Obama and Canada were once on the same page - before Obama's election, anyway. Obama wanted to create a Harlem Children's Zone-type institute/program in 20 major cities to help the families that need it most, but let's see what Obama really does.
Part of me is really excited to jump into teaching, but part of me is reluctant. Sure, I'm reading a lot about low-income African and Hispanic students and what needs to be done to destroy the achievement gap, but can I do it? How will my reading translate to actually carrying out the act? At any rate, I'm more passionate about this subject than any other, and I'm nearly positive that I want to be a teacher in a low-income school, but I can't say that for sure if it's what I want to do for the rest of my life because I don't really know what it's like.
--Elie
It was about this guy, Canada, who has this goal to transform Harlem and America by closing the achievement gap and thus getting more low-income (and mostly African American) kids though high school and college. He set up the Harlem Children's Zone where expecting parents learn about parenting. Then their three-year-olds attend a preschool, then a kindergarten, and finally middle school specifically for low-income students of Harlem. It's much more complicated than this, but Canada's goal is to create a net that kids cannot fall through; where they'll have no choice but to succeed because they have all the resources, and everybody around them will be doing the same.
This book wasn't just interesting because of what it taught me about this Harlem project that is going on at this very moment, but it also taught me about why so many low-income Americans are African American. From what I took from this book, more African Americans live with a lower-income and in the projects than do white people because African Americans haven't yet completely recovered from discrimination. (One could also argue that white (and any other color) Americans haven't recovered because they're doing the discriminating...) Many obviously have recovered, but because they tend to live together for support (due to discrimination), African Americans were still discriminated against and left out of the loop that would help them prepare for jobs and teach them how to raise children according to the "correct" middle-class, American standard.
These people aren't bad parents; they're just different. For example, they don't promote eye-contact with their children, which hinders children in a society where strong eye contact is valued. African American families tend to not promote conversations with their children between parents and children. Adults are to be looked up to and respected rather than talked to on level ground with a young child. Again, this isn't the norm with all African American families, but it is with a majority of low-income families, no matter the color. In essence, kids are being raised so differently and in more difficult circumstances, often with a young, single mother with little money and in a society where many families live off welfare and don't have a decent education. And, most schools are of poor quality.
To quote the book: "However you measure parenting, middle-class parents tend to do it very differently from poor parents - and the path they follow, in turn, tends to give their children an array of advantages, both cognitive and non-cognitive: a bigger vocabulary, better brain chemistry, a more assertive attitude. As Lareau pointed out, kids from poor families might be nicer, they might be happier, they might be more polite -- but in countless ways the manner in which they are raised puts them at a disadvantage in the measures that count in contemporary American society."
I'm beginning to better understand how charter schools work. The students are chosen by lottery, but most of the parents who enter their children in the lottery are upper- or middle-class because they're more motivated to do so. Charter schools produce great students and great test scores compared to most public schools, but that's because of the quality of students they have. Most charter schools make the smart and wealthy smarter and wealthier.
This book further convinced me that I want to work at a low-income school. According to this book, experienced teachers can usually choose where they teach, and they almost always choose to go to a wealthier school - where they're needed least. The teachers with the least experienced are left with the jobs at low-income schools where good, experienced teachers are needed most. I think I may have written something about this topic in my blog about Jonathan Kozol's book. But anyway, knowing that I'll be needed more in a low-income school has made me want to teach there even more. Why teach where the kids already have the resources and where there are plenty of great teachers who can teach them the necessary material? It takes a truly gifted teacher to teach low-income students who have grown up disadvantaged from the beginning and how are forced to attend school with limited materials.
Geoffrey Canada said, "I want to get out of the business of trying to save failing students before their lives are destroyed. I've been in that business, and it's a tough business and a good business, and I'm glad some people are in it--but I really think it's the wrong place to focus." What Canada means is that efforts should be focused more on the children at a very young age so that they never get to the point where they're failing or disadvantaged because it takes a great deal of strength, energy, time, and resources to "save" kids. His endeavors with Harlem Children's Zone have proven his point; the kids who are in the program basically from birth flourish while the middle school students who entered the program in 6th grade are hopeless or almost hopeless. I realize that, more than likely, I'll be in the "saving kids business" because I don't want to teach elementary school. I probably wouldn't hate teaching the younger ones, but my niche is with the older kids. I know that a difference can be made, but I'll have to work very, very hard. I'm currently reading The Freedom Writers Diary and I'm starting to get an idea of how to reach kids who are "disadvantaged" and need saving. Canada also said, "If we continue waiting until middle and high school to intervene with poor students of color, I just don't think that we're going to change the numbers in America as a whole." This statement made me a little discouraged. Why should I teach middle and high school if I can't make a difference? Well, Canada isn't out to change a single person or class or school. He's off to change all of America. I'm not shooting for the stars like him, for better or worse. I want to make a difference, and I know that I can do so -- one class at a time. There are so many examples of secondary school teachers changing the lives of his or her students, and I want to be part of those success stories.
Furthermore, there will always be secondary school students who need help, and I want to be part of the help that they receive. In fact, they need help more than younger kids, even if the younger ones can avoid falling into desolation and failure, but the secondary school kids can still be saved from that failure; we can't just label them as a lost cause.
Obama and Canada were once on the same page - before Obama's election, anyway. Obama wanted to create a Harlem Children's Zone-type institute/program in 20 major cities to help the families that need it most, but let's see what Obama really does.
Part of me is really excited to jump into teaching, but part of me is reluctant. Sure, I'm reading a lot about low-income African and Hispanic students and what needs to be done to destroy the achievement gap, but can I do it? How will my reading translate to actually carrying out the act? At any rate, I'm more passionate about this subject than any other, and I'm nearly positive that I want to be a teacher in a low-income school, but I can't say that for sure if it's what I want to do for the rest of my life because I don't really know what it's like.
--Elie
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