Trini 2 De Bone: Body Pittin'

I was just going to go to the beach up Maracas way on the the Northwest Coast of Trinidad, or maybe back to Las Cuevas, which is prettier and calmer and where I spent most of Tuesday floating on my back looking up into a criminally blue sky. But my sister proposed we go instead to Toco, along the rugged Northeast coast, the point of which juts out to separate the Caribbean side of Trinidad from the Atlantic side. I had been to the cliffs of Toco, but never to the beach, so away we went on an adventure.

The ride up took us through some bustling towns,, and but soon we were on cool rain forest roads, passing through sleepy villages and windy roads, and over bridges built with planks. It's the dry season, so there aren't many biting bugs, and the yellows flowers of the poui trees are in full bloom. My sister regaled me with stories of our family and past adventures, and she mentioned that it was sea turtle nesting season in that region, asn so we started planning a night to go before I left. YAY!

So we get to Toco, after driving along these dramatic cliffs that lead to the sea on this part of the island, and it's jsut diyllic, with a few people and plenty coco palms, which we parked far away from. (You now why don't you, dear reader?) I bathed in the sea for a few hours, and my sister sort of napped in the car (don't ask, she's weird) and played the radio.

I got out about 6, and since it was so late, we decided to just make a night of it and stay out and go down the coast to Grande Riviere to see the turtles. YAY! Except, there were a few problems.

1) The car wouldn't start cuz the battery was dead. (see radio playing above)
2) Everyone at the beach (with whom I spoke as I scounted for jumper cables)swore up and down that the nearest gas station (at Cumana) was already closed for the night, and we had less than half a tank of gas. Not enough to get to Grande Riviere and back to civilization.
3) We had less than $100 TT between us (less than twenty buck US) and we somehow had to pay for the permits, the guide, gas, and maybe some food (I was starving. My sister proposed I eat smoe Crix -- nasty crackers that taste like very bad communion host.

But guess what dear reader??? All problems were solved, with the help of a very sweet Maxi Taxi driver, we found jumper cables, then we ate dinner in a nice restaurant near the beach of the turtles that took my Visa card, and they even gave me some extra cash. The Cumana gas station was open, and we got gas. So we got to see the turtles!

It is indecribable, really. Our guide, Gavin, took us onto the beach in the dark, as he only used his flashlight very infrequently, so as not to disturb them too much. Enormous leatherback sea turtles, like 800 to 1200 pounds, dragged themselves from the sea onto the beach and started flapping their fins in a circular motion that Gavin said was called body pittin' -- creating a secure space to make the nest.

Then the turtle carefully curls its back fins and scoops out -- left, right, left, right, finfuls of sand to make a hole two to three feet deep, and lays its eggs. When it lays its eggs it goes into a "trance" where they don't notice anything and you can touch them. So I petted her!!

Okay, my internet time is up. More later. I home tomorrow! Waaah!

Trini 2 De Bone: God Don't Sleep

The above statement keeps coming up in these conversations and stories I am hearing and it's sort of about karma. Like you think that God may be sleeping, but GOD DON'T. So you will have a karmic payback for your bad behavior.

But I must have been very good. Because, as my oldest sister says, "I am too blessed to be stressed." She claims that this comes about from hanging with her (limin' in Trini). Okay. This is entirely possible, because I have been having some magical moments spinning around the country with her.

On Wednesday, I went to her Montessori school and was taken in by the five year olds who were having lunch, but when I sat down with two of them, the other five came over. I asked them if they had had lessons, and they told me that they wrote their names and counted, and read me everything that was on the walls of the schoolroom. A little boy named Kyle came by. I remembered Kyle from last years graduation ceremony; even though he wasn't graduating as he was only four, he was one of the best performers (my sister has them sing, do recitation, act in a play, do traditional Creole dances, and play recorder at the ceremony).

Ms S: Hey Kyle! Good to see you!

Kyle: ...

Other Chirren: Kyle vex becau' he get licks today!

Kyle: (lookin vex in trut') I ent get no licks!

Chirren: (nodding, eyes wide) But he was cryin'!

Kyle: I was cryin', but I ent get no licks!

Chirren: (whispering to me as Kyle walks away) He get licks! He get licks!

Kyle gets disgusted and walks outside.

Then they brought me outside to play with them and ran around as I sat out of the sun under the house with the other adults and the wimpy children and they totally mobbed me over the digital camera. I read them the Berenstein Bears Lose Their Manners and told them the story of Rikki Tikki Tembo.

At one point Daniela pointed out, "De babies cyaan see!" So they all made a space for the three years olds in the front. When I left with my sister to go to the beach in Toco, they waved goodbye and asked me if I was coming back. Tomorrow, I said, tomorrow.

Trini 2 De Bone: So said, so done

Well, how all yuh goin? I reach safe here in Port of Spain, and ah staying up de road in Mount Lambert (pron. LAMB - BUTT), just down de road from meh brudduh and meh sistah, an apparently, all de lesbians they put on dis beautiful island fuh me to meet. Ah happy fuh so! It making real hot, so I just had to go to de beach today. yeah, it was real obligation and responsibility!

First day I reach, I went straight to de auto rental and hire a car. De fella had a kine a mush mout when he talking, but he was nice nice fella. In front a we in de line was a black american woman de fella confide was a "mad, mad lady!" Well, she look so too. I rent this car, and why I do dis, I doh know why, but I offer mehself and meh cyaar to tek meh auntie and me cousin who a big soca artist (pron. ART-EES) to Point Fortin, quite in South, caw she ha some show in a club down dey she doin fuh borough day 25th anniversary.

So if you see we pack up in dis cyaar and you know I so so tired from de flight in the middle of night I just take, but we driving driving, past Sando, true rousillac, la brea (pron. LAH BRAY), and some town name start wit a v and end wit a y, til we get quite to point.

In de club now, the music pumpin so loud it look like de window bout to break. And den meh auntie, who style she self de daughter manager, go upstairs to check it out. she come back, say, It scanty. De place big, but it scanty. Bout ten fifteen people in the place.

You know we all tinkin, Oh god, you tell me we drive half de country for 15 people? but nobody sayin nuttin.

De fella from Chavonne video come, and de DJs from de radio station come and it start to feel like a real vip section out in de car park. Meh auntie tekking pictures and finally we go inside roun 1:45.

When we get in, we see de place scanty in truth. But what you gon do? We dey, we cyaan go nowhey.

Chavonne get on de stage start to do she show. Oh god! And not four words later, de place pack up with people!

But whey dese people come from? ask meh auntie. De place was so scanty!

Yeh, I say. Look like someone run true de village bawling, All yuh come! All yuh come! And now look de place. Pack with people!

If yuh see people! And dey still comin! When Chavonne get to de popular tune, "Bump!" de men does like it becaw it have a move when she back she bumpsy fast fast. Well, de song turn into a contest to see which man could bump he bumpsy as good as Chavonne. People callin frens to go up and bunks with she. De DJ go on. A fella name Gootie go on. A big fella name a Simon go on and put all a dey to shame.

After de show, roun 3 am, we get back in de car and drive back to town. Eh, eh say meh auntie. But dat was a good show! Dese people in south real know how to fete! Dey say it would be worth de trip. So said, so done!

Trini 2 de Bone: Me nuh want agouti, give me de ham

Well folks, I am leaving on a jet plane tonight to Trini. I will attempt to keep you posted from there, as I satisfy my internet addiction. I am so psyched! and loaded down with gifteses. Talk soon!

Neruda Again: Sonnet XCIV

If I die, survive me with such sheer force
that you waken the furies of the pallid and the cold,
from south to south lift your indelible eyes,
from sun to sun dream through your singing mouth.
I don't want your laughter or your steps to waver,
I don't want my heritage of joy to die.
Don't call up my person. I am absent.
Live in my absence as if in a house.
Absence is a house so vast
that inside you will pass through its walls
and hang pictures on the air
Absence is a house so transparent
that I, lifeless, will see you, living,
and if you suffer, my love, I will die again.

- Pablo Neruda

When I Hear My Sister's Voice

When I hear my sister's voice, crackling, fading in and out of reception, talking to other people in the car, overlapping and echoing my words in the way that we talk, bawling how she has been trying to reach me, her voice careening along the side of the road along the hills above Port of Spain, dashing around maxi taxis, her satellite voice in my ear, when I hear my sister's voice, I float in our never never land home, where we drift among lilies and laugh at the stars.

Word Whirled: I Obsess

Okay, okay, I can't stop thinking, NYFA NYFA NYFA. So I tracked down what I sent them. Well, I found the list of poems and my artist's statement. Did I really write this? I sound so clever. I need to thank Mendi for helping me with the titles of the poems and Arisa for helping me with the artist statement.


Artist’s Statement

I explore language/s, the time/space continuum, and how the shift of a moment can lead to revelation or implosion. In my work, I engage moments where both personal and public history (time) meet the body and matter (space). In proxy, unrequited love consumes the landscape from North Africa to the Americas and language burns away to its most essential, dense elements. The repetition of the p mimics "pi", infinitely expanding finite circumference and circumstance.

Word Whirled: I'm Going to Disney World!

Well, my friends, you are officially reading the website of a 2005 NYFA Poetry Fellow! YAY! Me's so HAPPEH!

And I had another interview today with some more lovely people from the small schools movement. I am really nervous, as I have to do a demo lesson next week. Any suggestions?

Plus I just want to say that it has been completely reinvigorating to meet educators who are working in these amazing schools, and still teaching the same population of regular NYC school kids. It gives one hope.

All right, I am now catching up on the L Word at Sammy's while I wait for her to come home, a la Ricky. Umm, doesn't Tina look like she is really pregnant? Is she?

Ciao.

Teach for Hysteria: Quick Job Update

Well, kids, it looks like I've gotten three job offers! Yay! I will post more later, I really must go to sleep. Thanks for all your support and encouragement. MWAH!

Out on the Town: Rebel Devil

Oh yum. Thanks to Janelle, I went to a most spectacular show tonight at Irving Plaza. Bass playing like you've never, I mean never ever seen it before. Victor Wooten. Amazing black rock system. And crazy white college boy fans. Oh, wait, and fine ass Divinity, kick ass bass player, MC and singer in a mini skirt and those boxing boot shoes. Go to her site, dear reader, you will not be disappointed.

Te Conozco Bien, Estas Arrepentida

Dale duro, papi
Dale mas duro...

Just randomly typing what I hear here on the radio at Janelle's. At any rate, I am in a better mood. She has a pc, made for the more complicated functions here, so though it is way past my bedtime, I will make some posts I have been thinking of.

How did I end up here you might ask? Welllll, tonight I had my first novel writing class. I bogarted my way into the advanced class, past the cerberi at Gotham, and I so love my supersmart instructor, Sandra Newman, already. Class was full of gems I probably won't be able to relate with the same impact they had in class. Wait -- which was filled with cool, interesting people. And not all of them were white! And not all of them were straight! And not all of them were women! Who knows, later I may be on here doing another Fine Whine, but for now, I'se so happy wif my class!

Okay, okay, here's a quote.

"The danger with the novel is that it can stop meaning something to you. How do you keep the love in this marriage? The key is to know what you're doing while you're writing. It might change, but while you're writing you've got to know. You're writing against a form that exists. The whole time you're writing you need to be aware of the form you're writing against."

-and-

"Don't give it a haircut if you're going to cut it's head off." (on unnecessary scenes)

I'll publish more later.

Del Laberinto de la Soledad: Los Versos Mas Tristes

I'm really sad. So I went to Pablo. Gloss loss.

LOS VERSOS MAS TRISTES - PABLO NERUDA

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Escribir, por ejemplo: "La noche está estrellada,
y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos."
El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta.
Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso.
En las noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos.
La besé tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito.
Ella me quiso, a veces yo también la quería.
Cómo no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos.
Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido.
Oir la noche inmensa, más inmensa sin ella.
Y el verso cae al alma como al pasto el rocío.
Qué importa que mi amor no pudiera guardarla.
La noche está estrellada y ella no está conmigo.
Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos.
Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.
Como para acercarla mi mirada la busca.
Mi corazón la busca, y ella no está conmigo.
La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos árboles.
Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos.
Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero cuánto la quise.
Mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su oído.
De otro. Será de otro. Como antes de mis besos.
Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos.
Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero.
Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.
Porque en noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos,
mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.
Aunque éste sea el último dolor que ella me causa,
y éstos sean los últimos versos que yo le escribo.

Fine Whine

Okay, I'm gonna take a teeny tiny whine. And I don mean like a macajuel in de party.

I'M SOOOOOOOO SICK! WAAAAAAAH! So far this school year, the only thing I had was a touch of stomach virus, but no nagging colds or flu. I'm so frustrated!

I've been home all week so far. It started on Saturday and I had no voice until Tuesday -- none. I was just whispering or would try to talk and people would say, "What? I can't understand you." or "You know what? I'm gonna go, because you shouldn't be talking." Then I had massive coughing fits not controlled by any medicine or cough drop. Yes, I still dragged myself out of the house to go to the job fair, because I figured a few hours won't kill me. Well, I have to confess it almost did. I was so unbelieveably tired -- even after doing nothing all day -- that I yawned constantly and almost fell asleep at the wheel several times. I am writing this so I will not do that again! Very BAD! But I made it there and home okay.

So this morning I am getting ready for work, because even though I was up half the night coughing my lungs out I was going to go to work, dammit, and then I catch a glimpse of my itchy eyes in the mirror -- fiery red.

For me that only means one thing, the last big sick symptom -- eye infection! UGH! So I called in again.

I had to convince myself repeatedly that going in to work with children with a highly contagious eye infection was not the best thing to do. I feel so guilty, and of course, I am going to get IN TROUBLE by the MAN and his lackeys. Shit.

I actually used to go to work sick. But the last time I did that, I got massive infections -- eyes, ears, sinuses, lungs, strep -- all at the SAME TIME and the doctor forbade me to got work for two weeks. So I stopped doing that. I'm too old for this.

I remember the days when I used to eat donuts and chocolate and smoke all the time and stay up all night and drink massive amounts of coffee and not get sick or even feel tired. Not that any of those habits are commendable. But I have lost some of my superpowers for sure.

And I just sit here getting really depressed, thinking about my parents, and sleeping, and getting up and feeling guilty and taking medicine and worrying and thinking about what I could do to be productive and sleeping again.

Sometimes I wish I had a normal job like I used to, where I could go on in a little sick and just try not to touch anything. But, like Mr. Babylon said, in teaching, Mama is always on stage. (See Arrested Development for the reference) No matter how shitty you feel, you gotta be on. It actually brings me up when I am down, but there is no low-keying it. At least I dont feel so bad about today because it is my lightest teaching day. But still.

WAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!

The good thing is, I can blog/blab more. That always cheers me up. Thanks, dear readers.

You're the meaning in my life
You're my inspiration... hey while we're at it, why not go all the way -- DJ?

Cue up the synthesizers of your mind, folks! (Where's Kasey Kasem when you need him?)

You know our love was meant to be
The kind of love that lasts forever
And I need you here with me
From tonight until the end of time

You should know, everywhere I go
You're always on my mind,
in my heart In my soul

You're the meaning in my life
You're the inspiration
You bring feeling to my life
You're the inspiration
Wanna have you near me
I wanna have you hear me sayin'
No one needs you more than I need you

And I know, (yes I know) that it's plain to see
We're so in love when we're together
And I know that I need you here with me
From tonight until the end of time

You should know, everywhere I go
You're always on my mind,
in my heart In my soul

You're the meaning in my life
You're the inspiration
You bring feeling to my life
You're the inspiration
Wanna have you near me
I wanna have you hear me sayin'
No one needs you more than I neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed you!

Waaa haaa! Thank you very much! (see Dionne Ferris for reference)

Teach for Hysteria: Tunnel. Light. Go.

Well, I somehow sent out all my SBO transfers, and I went to the New Visions Schools job fair tonight. (Note: if you send an SBO transfer in, it gets priority over other applicants. They look at you _first_.)

This whole job search has really triggered a lot of my insecurities. Working at the Citadel has poisoned my confidence. I am miserable, feel like a failure, and am constantly subjected to more daily drama from Psychotic Man.

The other day, during a two hour harangue, PM told the math coach who works with my academy that 'Ms S. is the protector of that academy.' The math coach told my math partner, who of course told me. The math coach said, 'Ms S. protects the other teachers from criticism. Someone there needs to tell the people who are doing badly to get their acts together. Someone needs to come down on them.'

"I think," says my lovely partner, "that she was telling me since you were protecting everyone, I had to be the bitch. WTF?"

"Yeah," I replied, "except neither you nor I believe that yelling and harassing people is going to make them into better teachers."

I thought this was interesting. I guess I don't let the administrators come in and target people for criticism (that's putting it gently) when they invade our team meetings. I back my peeps unconditionally, and give suggestions and advice privately and respectfully. PM and dem always want to know who who who -- who leaves the rooms messy? Whose classes are most out of control? Who? Who? Who? Public shaming is their main management tool. So I redirect it, and reiterate that everyone is trying really hard, and yes some suggestions would be helpful, but picking on people would not.

The other day I told the math coach, who was sent as PM lackey, "Look, I am really sick of people coming in here and telling us what is wrong, wrong, wrong. We are all busting out asses to try to get these kids together (the Wild Children, of course). We call parents, we call psychologists, we give detention, we give incentives, we write referrrals, we have parents in, we meet with them after school, we talk to them privately, we talk to their counselors,we team teach during our preps, we give each other advice. What else do you suggest we do? Because we don't know." Of course, there was no reply to this.

Whatever. So that place has really cut my confidence in half. I have felt like a sucky, awful teacher. It is hard to explain to people exactly what is going on. But let me tell you this: just for kicks, I looked up "abusive workplace" online. And the symptoms fit our school exactly. I love the kids so much, but when I am away from that place, and their little brown/green/blue eyes aren't looking at me, I never want to go back.

So tonight I went to the New Vision Schools Job Fair. People were actually impressed by me! One woman said, "You have a great background. Lots of people are going to want to hire you." (She was cute too -- was she picking me up? LOL) I asked good questions and shared ideas! I was intellectually stimulated by people who were actually talking about education! I even had a conversation about Maxine Green with the Lincoln Center Intiative person! People were friendly! Someone offered me a job on the spot! (And I might take it -- we'll see what the visit is like!) I shared my teaching ideas and people thought they were interesting and that I might be a good teacher! I said I came from a terrible environment and people nodded knowingly!

Tunnel. Light. Go.

Now, I await the responses...

Talking Bout My Generation: LL Cool J Looks Good in Silver Lame'

Okay, I am researching some of the schools I talked to at the New Visions School Job Fair and I am in front of the tv watching HBO. To my delight, the Chris Rock show comes on right after the Zone plays Ciara and Missy Elliot's new video -- very very hot, btw. Anyhoo, who should come as Chris' musical guest, but LL Cool J!

Me and Ll Cool J and Salt N Pepa and Run DMC and Russell Simmons n dem, we all from the same hood, same generation. The Fat Boys, too, but they died choking on a chicken bone in jail -- at least that's what everybody said. So everytime I see one of them, I heave a contented sigh of nostalgia for what the 80's produced in Hip Hop's most diverse heyday. Anybody remember PM Dawn? Hip Hop to meditate by? Remember when they played Tracey Chapman and Madonna on the black radio stations?

Well, tonight LL Cool J was splendid in white short overalls with a (I kid you not) silver lame t shirt underneath, and, I think, sort of silvery shoes. He looked real crazy. I loved it! He also had some sun glasses on top of his head and was wearing what looked like a silver shower cap. Gorgeous!

Sigh.

Teach for Hysteria: Mouth of Babes II

Okay more fabulous things the kids have said to me lately:

I'm walking around the room helping people with their short stories. Tongue Ring Girl grabs my arm as I walk by.

Ms S: Yes?

TRG: MISS! (shouting, her only volume) WHERE IS YOUR UTERUS?

Hmm... I think. My uterus? Or one's uterus? As I ponder this, TRG gapes her blue eyes at me and ticks the metal rod against her upper teeth in a nerve-grating fashion.

Great. Once again I am having a moment. I try to remember my Doctor Spock, my Adolescent Psychology and my Sex Ed class from high school. I draw a blank. Thankfully, I am saved by her friend, Joan (so named for her resemblance to and shared last name of a 70's folk singer ) who touches TRG's arm and successfully externally palpates her own womb.

Joan: Here, here, dummy!

TRG: Your stomach?

Ms S & Joan: No!

TRG: Donde crecen los bebes? (where babies grow)

Joan: Yeah! (reaches over and palpates TRG under ber belly button, which sends them both into a fit of giggles.)

Ms S: Yeah, there. Right there. (exit stage left)

**

In my class there is a student who speaks softly and has a softer afro which he compulsively grooms with one of those 70s Power Fist Picks. He is one of those boys who hasn't grown yet, so he still looks like a little kid. I will call him Gentle Afro Man. Once upon a time, Gentle Afro Man had a speech impediment, but now it is gone, and all that is left is a tender volume and the ability to whisper insults up to fifty feet away, much to the chagrin of the other students, whose loud responses to his whisper torture get them in trouble and leave him unscathed.

Gentle Afro Man often comes to me with rhetorical Current Events commentary like: "Miss. Why did Michael Jackson come to court late and with his pajamas on? Why did he do that?" Or,

"But everyone hates the President. How did he get reelected?" Or,

"Where is Osama Bin Laden? Aren't they looking for him?"

I also have a tender spot in my heart for him because he often calls me "Mommy" instead of "Miss."

The other day, I suppose Gentle Afro Man couldn't take it anymore and he came up to me.

GAM: Ma- I mean Miss.

Ms. S: Yes?

GAM: Miss, I really think you should change your hairstyle.

Ms S: Really?

GAM: Yeah.

Ms S:...

GAM:...

Ms S: So are you saying you don't think my hair looks good like this? (a lopsided slightly frizzy slightly curly flopped over fro)

GAM: (shakes his head) Nah, Miss. You should change it.

Ms S: Thanks for your concern.

GAM: You're welcome. (softly walks away)

Actually, Gentle Afro Man is not the only one who has offered to help me with my hair. The other day, El Payaso offered me his pick after I told him to put it away, and his buddy offered to hook me up with his aunt who runs a beauty salon. I was tempted. For a moment. The boy who is glad I am not white, said that I should blow it out.

Ms S: I wish you guys would be as concerned about literacy.

The Guys: ...

Ms S: ...

The Guys:...

Ms S: ... (exit stage left)

Teach for Hysteria: How to Apply for Job Without Really Trying or Is That A Noodle in Your Ass?

Ach, I just put that last part in to make sure you all were still awake out there.

Okay, let me describe to you how teachers can take advantage of the one Get Out Of Jail Free Card afforded them a year.

As I mentioned before, if you want to leave your school and go to another, you have to get permission from your principal. They call that "releasing." In his dried up little heart, my principal likes to call it, "squeal like a pig, bitch, for I release no one from my realm!" There are loopholes of course. The biggest loophole is the School Based Option Transfer, or SBO. But, like many loopholes, this one will make you sweat.

There is a tiny window in the Spring when this happens. You have to keep checking the DOE website for the notice. No one announces it beforehand. Then one day, miracle or miracles, the list appears! Ta dum. The race is on. You have 13 days (or less, depending on when you find out about it) to find a new job.

One seven page memo and three forms later, you realize you have to look through a list of schools to see where you can transfer to. Click on the link and you see that the list is SEVENTY PAGES LONG.

I kid you not. The first thing I did was go through and highlight all the English secondary positions and take out the Staten Island pages (no offense, but really). I was down to fifty pages.

I have decided that I am not going to work in the Bronx again, it is too fucking far from where I want to be. So I took out those pages (sorry Bronx, it has been nice getting to know you though). Thirty-five pages.

See? Just like I teach the kids -- when you don't know what to do, process of elimination will help you every time.

Phew. Then what I did was go to Inside Schools.org, "the independent guide to NYC Public Schools" and look up the schools that were left, which was a lot. But, if you ever want the inside scoop/hint about any public school, check there. They are my saviors. If there was any indication of rigid atmosphere, military presence (i.e. Junior ROTC), few kids of color, mean principals, low morale, violent environment, or large class sizes, out they went.

Last but not least, I cross-referenced the school addresses to check their neighborhoods for convenience and being where I might possibly want to live.

I was left with a tidy list of about twenty schools, and I dropped off my transfer forms and cover letters at two of them yesterday afternoon after I came from the doctor. The word on the street is that for schools you really want you should hand deliver. All others need to be faxed.

Yes, you read that right. No regular mail for these things. You need to fax them or hand deliver them by 1pm on a Wednesday. Since no teacher I know can do anything once school starts, that actually means you have to have everything in by Tuesday. And, I learned that when you hand deliver them, you might actually get a mini interview on the spot! Hmmm...

Oh and last but not least, let me say it again, the entire process listed above has exactly 13 days in which to happen. That's right -- thirteen days to go through the list, cross check, prepare, and fax or deliver the forms. No wonder so many despondent people I talked to in the past were like, "Yeah, I missed the SBO. Now I am stuck here."

But people, I filled out my cards. Let's hope I get out of jail!

Teach for Hysteria: We Wear the Mask Update

Okay, so I've been so busy doing it I haven't had time to write about it. Yes, that's right teaching. I did rededicate myself, and guess what? After you all weighed in on what I should do in my meeting with Psychotic Man, the principal -- oh wait a minute, a brain fart is emerging...

Get this-- Do you know this man actually says to kids, randomly, " Do you know how you remember to spell principal? The principal is my PAL." They kids look at him wide-eyed and scurry away. They know the real deal. PM is a madman.

Anyway, I get a call from one of his lackeys, who has actually been very nice to me this year, and she says he is cancelling my meeting, but will reschedule. Well, I know what that means. We won't never ever meet! (Double negative fully intended) YAY! And yes, I had decided to follow the advice of my gentle readers and lie, or be diplomatic or whatever, to cover my ass.

In the meantime, I am pursuing other job opportunities. I really hope to work with some nice, progressive people of color. I talked to some yesterday in Brooklyn, so let' s keep our fingers crossed. And, of course, if you know any, let me know!

Dykephiles: Wanda Alston, In Memoriam

Wanda Alston was my friend. She came to my parties, supported my writing, hit on my girlfriends, and encouraged all of us to participate more fully in the political process, always with a wry smile. I am really skeptical, but Wanda was always proving me wrong, going to China, hanging out with Patricia Ireland, influencing the mayor. She was part of mainstream politics and policy in way that many people couldn't or wouldn't or didn't want to be. She was our ghost in the machine. And she made a difference. She was a fierce out proud black dyke. She was one of us and she was killed in her own home. She died fighting, but she died! It is so fucking unfair and sick. I am so furious about it that I couldn't write about it and I still don't like talking about it. It clogged up my blog and my mind. This hate crime perpetuated against humanity by some asshole who stole her precious life and left a community and a partner bereft. My thoughts are so much with her closest friends and family and Stacey during this nightmare time. I hate this, I hate this, I hate this.

This site, though it has a morbid name, has a well-linked tribute to Wanda. Check it out.

Rest in peace, girl. We love you and are grateful to have known you!