Teen Generation Imagery (mine)…
…and of course,
Rest in peace, Mr. Whipple.
Some Random Reading
I couldn’t resist trying the Blog Readibility Test after it was recommended by Mr. Teacher in “Me Read Pretty One Day.”
My blog’s result? 
And of course, Mr. Teacher’s blog title reminded me of David Sedaris‘ Me Talk Pretty One Day, a book adult friends recommended I read during my off hours, that I had completely forgotten about until now. We’ll see though, as I’m still enjoying Ahab’s Wife, a most treasured gift.
“What would it be like to have a daughter with one’s own delight, or skin, or mind? I remembered Frannie, when she was five, sitting in the wooden tub-also fashioned from staves of cedar-before the hearth. I was unfolding a piece of sheeting to warm at the fire before drying her. She was sturdy then, neither plump nor thin. As I was turning my back to her to spread the sheet to the warmth, she spoke. ‘I love you, Una,’ she chirped, as she often had before. As always, I told her that I loved her, too. ‘No,’ she said, ‘this is different this time.’ I turned and asked, a little amused, ‘How is this different?’ She answered, ‘I love the way you think.’ I swooped down and kissed her damp cheek. It was not Frannie who was naked before me, but I, accepted and naked before her.”
It’s a book I read when the house is quiet (which means later in the evening), but during the day, articles and blogs are more compatible with the toddler’s activities and explorations, though I’m still on a reading delay when it comes to material. Scientific American’s July 2007 issue is still traveling back and forth between my nightstand and coffee table, and I’m on page fifty-two, “The Memory Code,” though I am fascinated by page seventy-six, “An Earth Without People.”
There is some truly regularly scheduled reading that goes on each day before nap time and each evening before bedtime however, though the favorites change weekly. This week the toddler is enjoying
and 
.
Three cheers for literacy!
To Do List
Here’s today’s to-do list (with thanks to Dianne J. Hook, artist of Baxter Bear for Carson-Dellosa Publishing):
Daughter needs cake for a junior high cake walk- she’s taking cupcakes, turkey cupcakes, which explains the candy-corn-after-Halloween on the list… 
Anyone who knows me *knows* I’m a cookie person, so I didn’t have to add chocolate chips to the grocery list since I already have them, but here is the latest chocolate chip cookie recipe I’m eager to try, from Smitten Kitchen! Go, go, go to her site. Look, look, look at those cookies! Now wipe the drool off of your keyboard, check your pantry, and let’s start baking! (Isn’t her food photography GREAT?)
The toddler’s daily afternoon nap gives me the opportunity to 1) quickly clean house, 2) answer email, 3) finish those other “domestic goddess” duties and 4) meander through new blogs I’ve found. Cookies will be a nice treat as I read through Indigo Blue’s archive, especially her “Wellness Wednesday” entries, and find some Christmas photocard inspiration at Wendy’s Way before I write the first draft of our family’s holiday letter, an annual addition to our Christmas card mailing.
New to the joys of the BBC (thanks dear toddler for your interest in Postman Pat), but an old fan of Dr. Who, Torchwood has become one of my newest fave shows to record on the dvr. Imagine my surprise when I found THIS “Torchwood” instead of this one!
Just means more reading instead of watching, which isn’t a terrible thing.
Tomorrow’s to-do list can wait until…tomorrow.
Blankies
I’ve been busy (they’re blankies, not hankies), but not as busy as the recipients will soon be! Though I’m thankfully not a grannie yet, I do enjoy crocheting the basic granny square.
And the next blankie-to-be?
I Changed the Name
… so today I felt inclined to add the word “eclectic” to my blog title because it just seems to fit. Many aspects of my life are always in motion, never static, so I encounter a lot, with equal amounts of discovery happening on accident as on purpose. I focus on an area of interest for a time, and am then drawn elsewhere, with occasions of something out of left field walloping me up alongside the head for good measure. Those left-fielders generate an immediate and usually loud response on my part, but my other discoveries tend to lead me down fascinating paths, inspiring me to share what I’ve found.
I was recently told I was a “fluff” blogger, sharing links, topics, and thoughts on “things of little value or significance.” Thank goodness for being in my thirty-seventh year, because the comment merely gave me insight into the person who said it without immediately inspiring me to remove the person’s name from my cookie-recipient list. Yep, I choose to share recipes, story titles, and music recommendations. I document some of my family’s special moments, photograph my latest attempts at home decor, and complain about my daughter’s teachers. I give my two-cents’-worth about issues in teaching, early childhood education, and kindergarten teaching practices specifically, and I sort my own preferred blogroll/links/favorites by kindergarten categories. As friends, colleagues and family often read my blog, I feel like I’m sharing with like-minded and like-spirited individuals, with those new readers who stumble across this blog free-as-always to either bookmark me or travel off in some other direction.
In my three-dimensional daily life, I’m all about sorting and classifying, “organizing.” The coffee mugs are in the cabinet above the coffee pot, the spice cabinet and side dish mixes in the cabinetry above the stove. All of my scrapbooking materials are in their own pouches which can be found in one cabinet. Magazines are kept in baskets in the living room and bedroom, yarn, crochet hooks and finished baby afghans on one shelf in the hall closet. When I’m done using the “autumn” candlesticks on the table, they’re put back in a cabinet with all of the OTHER candlesticks, and the winter votives come out for the season.
In Blogland however, I’ve found I don’t stay on topic for this particular blog site, Edublogs, and maybe that’s where the fluff comment originates. Many educators I’ve encountered online either have or contribute to several blogs, each with its own topic. I first started blogging on MySpace, then thought I’d spread my wings a bit by moving over to Blogger. As time passed, I was asked to contribute to In Practice here on Edublogs, and just found it easier to write “for them and for me” at one location. Friends, family and other readers have their own blog site preferences, so I tend to publish the same blog entry on all three sites (I know, redundant, redundant, redundant) to accomodate them all. I promise, sometime in the future, I’ll choose just one or two sites, really!
Until then, perhaps it’s best to describe any of my blog submissions as eclectic offerings shared in the spirit of educational collegiality. My colleagues? Anyone out there living LIFE, wanting to share information, resources, and ideas about whatever subject interests us!
As for the critic(s),
Appreciation, Holidays, Ideas
Oh, the winter holiday season is almost upon us! Baking, singing, decorating, spending time with friends and families, treasure hunting, gift giving, traveling… it’s all good!
The National Association for the Education of Young Children offers a descriptive article regarding Good Toys for Children, and I know that NOT too many of you will be surprised to find that in fact, the newest whirlie gig-light up-digital bells a- ringing-cartoon character toys AREN’T the most developmentally appropriate, stimulating, or safe choices when it comes to purchasing toys for babies, toddlers, preschool or kindergarten aged kiddos. Keep NAEYC’s guidelines and suggestions in mind when you’re out shopping for youngsters on your gift list.
If the gift of time is more your cup of tea, then perhaps cooking or baking with young family members, friends, or students would be fun! I found some Kwanzaa recipes here and some Hanukkah recipes over at Food Network , several of which I’m eagerly anticipating trying in my own kitchen this year.
Making graham cracker “gingerbread” houses with my kids is an annual tradition (one I will miss sharing with students this year) I still need to schedule, but the basic supplies are: empty/clean/dry milk cartons, graham crackers, paper plates, IN-EDIBLE royal icing (recipe here), coconut, cookies, cereal, hard candies, licorice ropes, and if you’re feeling really adventurous, upside-down ice cream cones frosted with green or white frosting for Christmas tree landscaping around your graham cracker construction!
Just in case you think I’m rushing, remember Thanksgiving is right around the corner! In addition to making placemats, cards, and other artwork by hand 
, please consider “adopting” a member of our Armed Forces for Thanksgiving dinner. Being a military family member, I am proud to say that our family will be sharing our hospitality and gratitude with three soldiers who are away from home this year. If all of the “geographical bachelors and bachelorettes” have already been adopted by members of your community, please remember those soldiers serving overseas. Any Soldier is a site that can help you decide what to send and when to send it, and trust me, care packages are so greatly appreciated by those friends and family serving so far away from home.
Happy Veterans’ Day!
Thanksgiving Traditions
Thanksgiving is this month, and my family and I will enjoy the traditional turkey dinner with most, if not all of the trimmings. A loaf of the cranberry bread from “Cranberry Thanksgiving” will be baked as will mincemeat star cookies (thank you Better Homes and Gardens “Cookies and Candies,” Meredith Press, 1966):
MINCEMEAT STAR COOKIES
1 1/3 cup shortening
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 teaspoon grated orange peel
4 cups sifted all purpose flour
3 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 to 3 tablespoons milk
Mincemeat filling
Thoroughly cream shortening, sugar, eggs and vanilla. Stir in peel. Sift together dry ingredients; add to creamed mixture alternately with milk. Divide dough in half; chill. On lightly floured surface, roll each half to 1/8 inch thick. Cut with 2 3/4 inch round cutter (Mom and I have always used the mouth/rim of a drinking glass as a cutter). Cut small star (make an “x” ) in centers of half of the cookies. Place 1 heaping teaspoon of the mincemeat filling on each plain cookie. Top with the “x” cookie, press the edges of the top and bottom cookies together with a fork to seal. Bake on a greased cookie sheet at 375 degrees for twelve minutes.
The toddler and I will read:
and the soundtrack for the month (how 80’s am I? I suppose I should get with the times and refer to it as a “playlist”) will include George Winston’s “Thanksgiving.”
To round out our family’s Thanksgiving traditions, we’ll watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade as we cook in the kitchen, and throughout the rest of the day will enjoy
and 
.
I LOVE this time of year!
Good job Charlee!
… and when we have students, teens, young adults who care, have conviction, and demonstrate *class*, people like Rush Limbaugh don’t like it.
Let’s face it, what on earth would indigenous peoples know about the environment in which they live, and why would they care when their observations of and connections to said environment indicated problems (yes, sarcasm intended)?
Feel free to check out Tribal Lands Climate Conference
and of course, An Inconvenient Truth.
And don’t worry, it’s really OKAY if you let common sense creep into your very being, no matter what Rush is regurgitating. Good job Charlee!
A Lifetime of Personal Diversity
Alice’s post at In Practice was a good read this morning. Addressing how to handle diversity in schools, neighborhoods, and society IS a tough issue, and not just for Caucasian folks. Many people simply want to know how and IF (and when and where) to acknowledge ethnic/cultural diversity. The acts of asking someone about his or her background, of learning something new, of trying to be considerate, making sure no one feels looked over, left out, or unwelcome can actually be awkward for people thanks to humankind’s history, no matter how enlightened, unbiased, worldly, just plain kind and inquisitive, or politically correct they may be. But more than some people do feel threatened by anything outside of their own comfort zone, allowing assumptions and stereotyping to influence what I feel are their fear-based behaviors. For some personal history:
I’m a half Eskimo, half Caucasian female born in Kentucky, raised for the first ten years of my life in a bordertown in TX. I lived the next twenty five years of my life in an Eskimo village, a small farming town, and a college town in Alaska. Being a woman who has often been incorrectly stereotyped throughout her life, I grew up wondering who and what I was “supposed” to be with each new hometown locale we moved to. In many cases I was too “brown” for predominantly white communities, and too “white” for predominantly brown communities. A half-Caucasian half-Inupiaq Eskimo girl raised in Texas, eating pâté de foie gras, enchiladas, and hamburgers, while interested in learning French, how to make parkas, and playing the clarinet and violin was apparently an interesting addition to many schools and neighborhoods. I am brunette with dark brown eyes and I tan like nobody’s business. Many people assume I am Hispanic. Others admit they assume I am “something,” but they’re not quite sure *what*. As an adult, I’ve moved as a military dependent and have been stationed in New Mexico, Kansas and Texas, driving through the states each time a new move is required. Teaching in culturally diverse schools has been the norm for me even in places like Kansas thanks to the high military population.
As a young child, my mother was regularly asked if I was a “Vietnamese war orphan.” When I was in the third grade (here in the bordertown), I got in trouble with my Spanish teacher and school principal for “not speaking my language,” which according to them was my mother’s fault, as she is white. I told the teacher and principal I was Eskimo and was then accused of lying. My mother brought my Bureau of Indian Affairs card in to the principal and told her that yes, while the accusations of my mother not making sure I spoke SPANISH were accurate, it was in fact because in addition to English, I should have been speaking Inupiaq, a language NOT taught in Texas. The harassment from the Hispanic teacher and Hispanic principal stopped. The irony? I did speak Spanish with my Spanish-speaking-only friends on the playground or outside of school.
As a junior in high school, my family lived in Fairbanks, Alaska. The school I attended was the largest I’d ever seen at that time, most students either already sorted or in the process of sorting themselves into social cliques. As the weather cooled, I chose to wear a parka to school that I had made. Standing inside in the commons area waiting for the first bell to ring, still wearing “outdoor gear,” students visited with their friends. The punks, the jocks, the band kids, the geeks, the gearheads, etc. were all separated and socializing in their staked-out territories as were the students who sorted themselves by cultural heritage or grade (only the seniors seemed to have license to roam free, socializing or harassing students from any group). I stood with a friend from the bus, talking and laughing, wondering what our French teacher had in store for us that day, when I noticed two students from what appeared to be the “African American Group” pointing, smiling, nodding, laughing, and pointing some more at me from across the room. After some quizzical looks on my part, one of the boys came over, laughing, and told me “we’re getting a good laugh, ’cause here you are, wearing that coat, that Eskimo coat, pretending you’re a native, when everyone here knows you’re half Black.” I was floored, not because I perceived what he was saying was an insult, but because somehow I had become a joke based on what people who didn’t know me at all thought about me- what they had decided about me all on their own, without asking.
In Alaska, I attended WEIO (World Eskimo Indian Olympics) each year with my Inupiaq grandparents, mother and sister, and I learned how prejudiced my “minority” grandparents really were. When my grandparents encountered girls from families they knew from the village at the sporting events and in the artisans’ gallery, I was quickly introduced. But if those girls had African American friends or boyfriends with them, the girls themselves were blatantly shunned by my grandparents by not being offered the traditional outstretched hand or even eye contact. After the girls left the area, my grandmother would scoff, shake her head, and gossip while returning to her beadwork. Interestingly enough, several years later, girls my grandparents had originally shunned who had gone on to have children with African American males were warmly welcomed back into the fold because “taqsipak” (mixed skin color/heritage) babies were considered the most beautiful. I have never spoken fluent Inupiaq. My grandmother has often told me she was glad all of her children “listened to” her when she told them in their youth that they needed to “marry white people to get ahead.” My father, and all of my aunts and uncles did just that after graduating from high schools outside of Alaska (Bureau of Indian Affairs “boarding” schools where Inupiaq language and culture were not allowed).
Visiting family in Oklahoma for the baptism of my daughter, I was put into social situations where neighbors, church patrons, and most locals would ask “what ARE you?” After one inquiry led to a tense half-hour-long question/answer session explaining my ethnic backgroud in a greasy spoon diner, the owner of the establishment with whom I was speaking finally offered his hand to shake, pulled me in close and said “well at least it WORKS FOR YOU.” Yes, he was referring to what he assumed was my heritage. Yes, I was offended, because I couldn’t understand why he felt there was an actual NEED to determine whether or not I was deserving of polite interaction (and frankly service in his diner) in the first place. I didn’t care about his skin color, but he certainly felt he needed to make a few decisions based on MINE.
Thankfully throughout my life I have had family members, friends, and teachers who have encouraged me to “keep the best and toss the crap” of my life’s experiences. I prefer duck soup (made on the beach in Barrow during Naluqatak) over muktuk, “real” enchiladas over Mrs. Stouffer’s, and pâté over okra any day! While a fluent English speaker, I enjoy expanding my vocabulary with conversational phrases, expressions and vocabulary from other languages. Perhaps someday I’ll be fluent in either French or Spanish, though I have little hope of speaking Inupiaq as long as I’m away from Alaska. Sign language also comes in handy, pardon the pun. I have an eclectic taste when it comes to my preferences for home decor, fashion, literature, music and hobbies. I can make a parka, mouton mittens, and sew a fur ruff to finish it all off, and enjoy counted cross stitch and crocheting. A wonderful teacher in high school taught me how to make wonton- she was Chinese, while my German friends have vowed to teach me how to make sauerkraut one of these days.
I am aware that I am more likely to have problems with alcohol abuse and diabetes because of BOTH my native and non-native heritages, but my crooked teeth come from my father’s side of the family, and my penchant for sparkely jewelry from my mother’s. I don’t care to go fishing, but certainly love my Aaka’s smoked salmon and her deep-fried halibut bites with salmonberry jam. I’m no hunter, but can make a mean moose pot pie thanks to my mother. I like theater but not opera, and the rhythm of the Barrow Dance Team’s drums is a sound (and feeling) I’ve missed for the last five years. Mariachi music makes Mexican food taste better, if that’s possible.
I will admit that my mother’s family would probably feel more comfortable in my home than my father’s. We live different lifestyles. We have different tastes. We have different philosophies and beliefs. And it’s okay. To me. And there’s the problem. Diversity is okay to people who aren’t threatened by it, to those people who are selective in their preferences without having fear or cruelty dictate their tastes, whose intentions are kind, inquisitive, or at the very least, polite. I haven’t met too many people who fit that description. Not in neighborhoods, not in churches, not in restaurants, and unfortunately, not even in schools.
Addicted to TEACHER fashion…
We’ve set our clocks back and are enjoying the relative quiet that can be enjoyed on many Sunday mornings, traffic non-existent, neighbors still asleep, teenager asleep after a long night of babysitting, toddler running through the house at a dull roar, cat hiding from the toddler. Funny that even with a load of laundry in the dryer and the dishwasher running a “heavy” cycle, it still seems quiet. Or at least calm.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee and freshly baked peach coffeecake makes me want to avoid looking out of our windows. It’s sunny, dirt brown, and supposed to be eighty degrees today. There are no large trees where we live, no lush, green lawns, no autumn splendor. No piles of snow for that matter either. Just dirty, brown, abrasive desert. No wonder I go nuts decorating the interior of the house. We’re hoping our next military move will take us somewhere with four seasons, if a place like that exists anymore.
For Halloween, I dug through my closet to find an appropriate shirt to wear that would indicate I was part of the holiday fun, though NOT wearing a costume. I quickly found a black shirt with a sparkley jack-o-lantern on the front, put it on and realized as I re-straightened my piles of theme-ey type clothes, “I’m not teaching this year.” Sliding hangers from right to left, I found my ABC jumper, with the embroidered books, pencils, crayons, and appliques on its hem. Next were my shirts and denim jumpers with autumn leaf patches 
embroidered acorns, and multi-colored apples, then my Halloween jumper with the black velvet bodice, embroidered pumpkins and spooky house above a black and white checked skirt. My brown knit dress with jacket WILL be worn sometime this month as my toddler will certainly appreciate the Pilgrim and turkey quilted appliques on the jacket and bodice! 
Next in the piles of teacher fashion are my Christmas sweaters, vests, denim shirts, and embroidered velvet shoes.
Don’t forget all of the “teacher jewelry” that serves to accentuate this timeless, gaudy, teacher style!
Light-up reindeer pins, glittery ornament earrings, Hannukah dreydl necklaces made out of Sculpy clay, snowflake charm and bead safety pin brooches received as gifts from students and their families. January is low key fashion-wise, snowmen, mittens, snowflakes, but February brings it all back up a notch with pink, red, white, and purple hearts, cupids, and embroidered versions of those conversation “U R Cute” hearts on lapels, hems, and sleeves. March? Green, and lots of fuzzy pipecleaner shamrocks. April? Flowers, bunnies, baskets, eggs, PASTELS. May? Stars, stars, and more stars, since I call my students “Super Stars,” and it’s their month to celebrate moving on to the first grade. I think I’m going through withdrawals.
Another piece of coffeecake will help, I’m sure. I modified the Bisquick/General Mills recipe for Velvet Crumb Cake by adding cinnamon, additional sugar, and drained, diced peaches, omitting the “crumb topping” all together. The recipe works just as well with drained mandarin oranges.
What to wear, what to wear…
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