Tag Archives: love

Mama Africa

The great songstress Miriam Makeba died last night after performing a concert in Italy.  In spite of her somewhat advanced age, I’m shocked by the news.  Makeba has been a hero of mine since college when I first discovered her records.  My love for her music is something I’ve shared in gladness with others.  Often, like any great music, Makeba forged connections between me and others of her lovers. 

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May her spirit continue to surround us.

KilamanDJaro

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Election Reflection in 24 hours

November 4, 2008 7:20 AM

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 Lining up to vote: Rockridge United Methodist Church, corner of Hudson and Manila near College Avenue

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Early morning sun and the news truck antenna

8 PM

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270 Electoral Votes achieved, fire in the street on Avon, marshmallow roasting

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The handsome President, giving it to us from Grant Park 12′ high on the side of a Rockridge home

November 5, 2008 7:25AM

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The dawn of a new day in Rockridge, Oakland, California, United States, America.

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LOVE TO MY PEOPLE SWINGING THE STATES

The Obama HQ in Western Phillie:

SI SE PUEDE!!!

YES WE CAN!!!

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Where is the Rockridge Life?

These days there isn’t a lot of life being led in the Rockridge sense.  Saddleshoos is busy at Mills College and at a middle school in Alameda, and shuttling between the two along High Street.

Several course meals have been replaced by readers, midterms, and lesson plans.  The questions are why teach?  how to teach?  what is an educative experience according to Dewey’s concepts of continuity and interaction?  how do we combat contextual factors that render experience miseducative for students?  Design a unit plan that includes: “performances of understanding.”  Tests are out, understanding is in.  In teacher preparation programs that is, until you get back to the district (where Saddleshoos incidentally has already been) and you find out that it really still is all about the tests.  And no one is interested in your performance of understanding.

Unless you can squeeze yourself into a context that buys into that stuff.  Like a progressive private high school that costs as much as it did to go to college in the late 90’s, or a charter school, that while functioning as a beautiful laboratory does little, as far as I can tell, to serve all children the way public schools are meant to do.  They try though, they do, and maybe I’ll end up there, but perhaps not without feeling like I gave up the fight a little.

So where teach?  In the dysfunctional district, the elusive charter, the exclusive private school?

Recently all I want to do is throw in the towel and kick it to Europe.  Perhaps Rome (I. and I did just watch Roman Holiday), or maybe Madrid or Barcelona.  Or Paris.  A great European city.  I’ve always wanted to live in an Almodovar film, somewhere where my nervous breakdowns and flair for the dramatic can be most fully appreciated.  Any takers?

There it is.  The explanation for thin and far between posts, lack of writing, and focus on the pretty pictures.

But all is not lost.  I told a colleague last night when she asked me how I cope with it all (since we all face these same dilemmas, since I am not unique, and teachers just might be the most endangered of species in our world), the only way I get through is by waking up everyday and showing my students all the love and knowledge and energy I have for them.  And that’s a lot.  I love the kids.  And they make it all worth it.  You’ve got to love the kids.  

Tomorrow night for the first time in my three years in education I will visit the home of one of my students.  I’ve been strictly instructed that entrance is only granted to those who call the parent by their first name, and those who come with an empty stomach.  I’ve agreed to the terms.  And so as not to offend the culinary expertise of my host, I plan on bringing an arrangement, so perhaps I can squeeze a flora post out of that tomorrow.  

Here’s to another day with the youth.  Bless them all.

And don’t forget, Obama is a teacher. Put down the hatchet, pick up the scalpel, and start excising the sickness.

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This Magic Moment

Last week was I.’s birthday and we went to Chez Papa in Potrero Hill, one of our original haunts, to celebrate. 

As we have for years now, we ordered the same thing: a green salad to start, the lamb en daube for our main course and sides of emergo beans (with pancetta and truffle oil accents) and frites with aioli to round it out.  I drank red wine, as always and I. drank sparkling water.  

If you’ve never gone to Chez Papa, or never had their lamb en daube, do it now.  It might just be the perfect meal. 

And afterwards SBC Park was kind enough to put on some fireworks for I. and I.  Yes, the fireworks are those tiny balls of light behind the damn street light in the foreground.  

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Anniversary Devotion

September 15 has proven to be an auspicious day in the life of Saddleshoos.

Let us give our thanks to M. and D. also known as D. and V. who are married 30 years today.

D-A-R-L-I-N-G by Beach House

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