Tuesday, January 27, 2009

How I fell out of teaching

About 6 years ago I worked at a school in New Jersey. For the first two years that I worked there I taught 9th grade, but 12th grade was what I really loved. The school as huge. It took me at least 15 minutes to walk from the 11-12 wing to the 9-10 wing, if I was walking fast. My third year I started teaching 12th grade, so because of the distance factor it was like having a new job, new kids, new colleagues, and a completely different working environment. I even had a new boss, or in teacher terms...principal, Joe.
In about November or December (I totally forget) there was a message from the principal to "see him" on the sign in sheet, ALL of my colleagues saw this. Furthermore, NO ONE was called in to the principal's office, unless you were screwed or some shit hit the fan. I had no clue what I did. I was sweating, embarassed, and downright nervous. I mean I said a lot of contraversial crap to my students to initiate discussion, that was my deal, but they knew that. What could I possible have done? At the time I was grading journals, so when I walked in to the office I was attempting to balance about 30 journals on top of my teaching materials. I must have looked like such an ass.
When I went into his office my old principal from the 9-10 wing was also present. I really started freaking out. It felt like the walls were closing in. My cheeks felt like they were burning. In high school I never got caught, so I never had to go to O'Brien, my principal's, office. Well...maybe once for smoking, but whatever. All I gotta say is even as an adult two principals in one office, scary. I thought I was getting fired. The presence of the two of them also immediately put me into defense mode.
They had this amazing lead up. Actually the two of them seemed nervous. It was all, "blah, blah, blah...and the other principal, who was a lady by the way, is here because I thought a lady should be present." What? Then, they proceeded to tell me that two teachers and students complained that I smelled. Parents called. My first reaction was to laugh. I mean I thought I was getting fired. Smell? Now that is a new one. I asked them if they could smell me. They said, "Well, no". OK.
Everything after that was kind of blurry. I awkwardly grabbed my journals and walked to the teacher's lounge. At some point I started to panic and called my mom. Mom was confused. Normally, I do not call her from work. Oh, and I was crying. Not only was I crying, but it was those tears that you cannot help. I could not force them down or away. She told me to calm down. I was not making sense. In fact, smell? The woman thought I was crazy. "Get out of there" she said. "Drive." Irrationally, I went back to the principal's office. I felt ashamed, mortified, and confused. I told them if there was a problem it would be rectified. I actually said that. I told him I have great respect for myself, that I am clean. I really friggin said that. Ugh.
Before I left the school I went to a friend's classroom room. She and I shared a classroom for one period a day. I told her what happened, still crying. Afterwards there was silence. She had this strange look on her face. I wanted to back away, run as fast as I could away from her and that place. She said that sometimes I smelled like hoagies. Perhaps it was because I was so close to the Italian Market. Betrayal. Maybe I smelled? What the fuck? I went to her because she was my friend. I trusted her.
I went to CVS and bought spray, deodorant, and some nasty crappy lotion. Oh, and I was crying. I called Erik and told him what happened. He was confused. I was going to keep driving, not go back, ever. I could not go back there and stand in front of those kids. He told me to stay, keep me head high. No, I did not smell. He'd know, but maybe he didn't? The rest of the day was hell, a mixture of shame and paranoia, combined with peach melba sprays.
At the end of the day I went to Blue Mercury. I told the saleswoman that my boss said that I smelled. She could not smell me. She said I smelled fine. I bought Fresh brown sugar everything, even the deodorant. Usually spending an exboritant amount on fun beauty products is fun. Not this time. (to be continued)

Monday, January 19, 2009

Menu Jan. 19-23rd

Since the blog is called "The Kitchen Table" I thought it would be fun to write out my menu for the week. I wish I could list it on the side of the blog, but I am not sure how to do that (and if you know could you please help me?) . This week I am trying to add more vegetables to our diet. We have a ton of Chinese cabbage in our garden as well as mustard greens. It is so friigin cool to actually eat stuff from my own garden, even if it is bitter it just tastes better. Plus, talk about being eco-friendly. All I had to do was go outside and pick it, so cool. Oh, and I always double my recipe, so there is extra for the girls, lunch, and just in case I do not feel like making dinner the next night...

Monday:
Cormeal and parmesean encrusted tilapia with raw tomato and scallion sauce (a la Rachel Ray with a twist) with roasted new potatoes and brussel sprouts

Tuesday:
Farfalle with gorgonzola mushroom sauce (a la Giada). This dish was soooo easy to make. It really did actually take a half an hour, seriously. All you have to do is make a roux (which is one part butter to two parts flour), whisk in some milk, and add gorgonzola, yum. Oh, and saute up some mushrooms in oil...plus a cup of peas for color.

Wedsnesday:
Goat cheese stuffed portabello mushrooms (a la Bon Appetit) with braised chinese cabbage and mustard greens. I am so psyched to make these. They sound soooo good. I love anything that has to do with goat cheese.

Thursday:
Mustard breadcrumb chicken (a la Julia Child) with cauliflower feta rice salad (which I will be making up and, if good, posting)

Friday:
left overs!

Saturday:
Crispy black bean tacos with chinese cabbage slaw and feta (a la Bon Appetit). These are super simple and easy to make...I have never made them before, so I will let you know how they actually taste.

So, the stuffed portobello mushrooms were fantastic, and super easy to make...here is the recipe

Stuffed portabello mushrooms (makes 4)

Marinade:
4 portabello mushrooms
1/4 cup liquid aminos (or soy sauce)
1/4 cup madiera wine (not nec, but yummy)
1/2 cup grapeseed oil (or olive)
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
2 pressed garlics

Whisk all the ingredients together in a large shallow pyrex dish. Add mushrooms, gill side down. Marinade about 4 hours. Once in awhile spoon the mixture over the mushrooms.

Meanwhile make the stuffing...
about 1/2 an onion chopped
2 garlic chopped
fresh spinach, chopped
5 ounces goat cheese crumbled
1/4 cup plus 6 tablespoons of parmesean cheese
fresh (always!!!!) bread crumbs (just take old, stale bread and throw it in the food processor for a couple of spins) about 1/2 cup or more if needed
Salt and pepper to taste

Saute the spinach until wilted, about 2 minutes or less to keep those nutrients in, drain and squeeze out excess water. Saute the onion until soft, about 5 minutes, add garlic until fragrant about a minute. While the onion is sauting combine the goat cheese, 1/4 cup of the parmesean, spinach, and breadcrumbs. When onion/garlic micture cools a bit add it to your goat cheese mixture.

Drain marinade and put mushrooms in a shallow roasting pan. Roast mushrooms at 400 degrees for 15 minutes. After roasted add the goat cheese filling. Add filling to the gill side of the mushrooms. Sprinkle with 6 tablespoons of the parm cheese. Add a salad, and you got a meal.

How I fell in to teaching

"D" is for disappointment, "D" is for Danna. My father said this to me when I was in high school about my report card. I am not sure what the subject was, but I do not think it really mattered. It was said, and I took it to heart. The worst thing for me to be was a disappointment to my father. All I ever wanted to do was please him. Throughout my life I have struggled with this. I did not want to be a failure, so instead I became a perfectionist, with an extra dose of pressure. I am that person who is (usually) early, by about 10 minutes. In my classes in grad school I had to be the best student. I am proud to say that I had one B (and was pissed about it, since it screwed up my GPA). Disappointment I would not be.

Dad wanted me to be a lawyer. "Gordon and Gordon" the door would read. It would be the two of us, working together. It was ingrained in me. If I was a lawyer it would just about make my father's life. Throughout high school and college I assumed my father's dream as my own, realizing one day that I'd be miserable if I became a lawyer.

I had an epiphany while getting professor recommendations for law school. While I spoke to my law professor I realized that my heart was not in law. Actually while studying for the LSAT I became withdrawn, my roomate and good friend Georgia, asked me one day, "Where are you?" . At the time I had no idea.

I tool a walk and decieded to figure it out. During my walk I found myself sitting at the bus stop. I did not plan on taking the bus. I wondered where all the people were going. What their lives were like. What mine would be.

While I was dating the enigmatic, actor dude (who I am convinced now was probably excruciatingly gay) I met a guy who taught Bible school and worked with troubled youth (I think, life back then was kinda hazy). Coincidentally he was sitting next to me at the bus stop. He had a kid textbook based on the Bible with him. I told him how I was trying to figure out what the hell I wanted to do with my life. He opened the text up. The page talked about how it does not matter how much money you have, what mattered was how you impact people. What mattered was love. A light dawned on me. I was not living my dream. What I needed was change.

I truly believe that the universe sends us signs. We just have to be aware enough to read them. I got up from the bench and went to talk to the English Department about teacher certification. After the English Department, I went to the loan office.

I realized that becoming a lawyer was not my dream. My dream was to help people. My dream was to write. My dream was to fall in love. Oh, how I wanted to fall in love, so much so, that sometimes my dream would get muddled and confuse me in to thinking perhaps that "this guy was the one". We live, and we learn.

I wanted, so badly not to disappoint my father. Calling him to tell him I was not going to be a lawyer was scary. Ironically, he was fine with it (at least he seemed to be for my sake).

The other day I was leafing through a book of poetry and an old card fell out. The card read, "To the greatest teacher from your students, Mom and Dad". I do not even remember recieving the card, but perhaps I was not such a disappointment after all.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Moving

Before children I used to work out. The gym was actually my favorite thing about Houston. Is that pathetic? It's called FIT. FIT was heaven compared to the gyms I am used to. It had a sauna and a steam room. Plus, the showers were actually clean and nice. The whole sauna thing was the deal breaker for me. I LOVE saunas. After I worked out I'd go in there, even in the hot, nasty Houston sweat bomb summers. In my head it would be like an Indian sweat lodge. I'd picture all my toxins leaving, meditate, do some Reiki on myself, talk out loud like a crazy person as I said my affirmations...unless some beatch was in there...how Zen of me.

Anyhow, I miss the gym. I miss MOVING. I miss sweating and the sauna. I miss yoga. Some people say they have the time, and that they can do it all, BUT they are LYING (sorry people you are). Sacrifices must be made when you have children. The one thing I miss the most is the gym. God, and that sauna...

In August I started walking with the girls. Walking helped me loose a few of those baby pounds. While I enjoy my walks with the girls I needed a bit more action and release. Whatever I did needed to be convenient and class oriented. I love the camraderie of classes. Plus, it allows me to hang out with adults (important really when you are hanging with 11 month olds all day and have whole conversations saying "ga" or "ada").

Two weeks ago I started going to Nia classes. They are AWESOME. Nia is a combination of dance, tai chi and yoga. It is movement with conciousness to music. I love it. It feels so nice to MOVE and express myself creatively. Plus, it makes me feel like a kid, and helps me release my emotions. Oh, and I am sore. I love that sore feeling after working out hard. I love being sweaty and feeling like I just did something entirely for me. Plus, I think it is helping me fall asleep.

I still walk for about an hour every day with the girls. We go even when it is a bit rainy and cold. It is good for them and good for me too. This week I started using the concepts I have learned in Nia when I walk. I am trying to bring conciousness to the movements in walking through deep abdominal breathing and concentrating on my steps. During the walk I actually picture us walking into good Reiki or light and do some symbols. I can feel the heat rising from the pit of my belly as I take the steps...It feels great. Plus, the girls get to benefit from all the good mojo.

Even though I do not have FIT anymore or the sauna, I am bringing the feeling I have from the sauna to my day. Pretty cool huh?

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Clean Make Up

Last week I ceremoniously threw away all of my make up. Make up is filled with nasty toxic crap like parabens and sulfates as well as other yucky substances that are toxic and maybe even cancer causing agents? Everything that goes on our skin goes in to our system. I want my body to be free of all that stuff....don't we have enough toxic shit in our food?

I had really great stuff like NARS, YSL, Chanel, and Lancome. I paid some serious cashish for that crap. I feel like make-up companies should make the stuff healthier, and they should make buyers aware of what they are buying. It really friggin sucks. Weeks ago I went to Sephora and asked them if they could recommend some CLEAN make-up. Clean make-up means it is free of parabens, suflates, ethanols, amongst other nasties that I have no clue about. The sales lady was telling me to get Lorac. Maya, my daughter, was getting pissy, so I gave them my credit card. I know I should have checked the ingredients, but I did specifically ask for clean make-up. Recently, I read the ingredients in my eye shadow and it is filled with methylparabens. When I returned the make-up they were not sure which products were clean, which to me means SAFE. I went to the sephora web site and found some fantastic, beautiful, colorful products that are free of all things cancerous and gross. They are coming in the mail anyday and I cannot wait. It is sad that the sales people in stores such as Sephora are not more knowledgable about their products, but I bet it is because most people just buy this stuff. They do not give a crap about what is in it, or they just do not know to ask.

Now, almost all of my beauty products are completely natural (oh and totally fabulous too by the way). You can get some great chemical free make-up brands at Sephora like Josie Maran ( I got these shimmery, sparkling cream eye-shadow/blush/lip compact from her that looks fab). Tarte also makes a great eye-hugger mascara as well as a natural check stain (that I am buying next because I cannot stop thinking about it), but not all of tarte is paraben and sulfate free. You really have to read the ingredients before you buy. Korres, a Greek company, makes some great eye-liners as well (I just got one in brown). I am also thinking about buying Korres concealer. I cannot wait for my package to come!

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Not Fading Away

Sometimes I feel like I am loosing some huge part of me, almost like I am fading (even though I know that is not true). When we first moved here I went to therapy. I figured I should probably go before I got married, and considering the new occupation I planned on...I discovered that a huge fear I had was fading away.

When I was a teenager I'd write about it constantly in my poetry through the metaphor of the abyss and the feeling of falling. Now, it manifests itself in my dreams. I have these recurrent dreams of trying to find my way home. I have to cross bridges with gaps (Evel Kneival style), fly off of large buildings over apocolyptic war-like scenes, ask strangers in dark, foreign places for directions. Through out the dreams I must get home. It I do not it is almost as if I will disappear.

Home, in my dreams, was my old house on 122 Woodhollow in East Hills. Sometimes, home is Philly. Always in these dreams I am so far away. I need to get back there. I have to or else. I think on some level I fear that people will forget me, or that I will loose myself completely. The feeling is visceral, part of my gut.

They say that houses in dreams symbolize your soul. My soul was unsettled, searching, flying threw the night trying to figure out a place to call it's own.

The last time I dreamt about finding my way home was different. In one part of the dream I gave the driver directions to Philly. Once we got there I did not know where to go. It finally was not home. In the dream home was Erik and Erik was at Wilken St., Houston, Texas. The dream felt like closure on some level. I think I have finally accepted being here (it took long enough).

Since we moved here I have gone through so much. I went to school, got married, had two babies, and let go of some much shit. I was holding on to something. I was holding on to home. I kept talking about Erik looking for a new job and how we were going to move home. I would talk shit to my friends about it here. I was not truly being...home, settled and happy with where I actually was.

Erik and I live in a great place. I am making friends. Erik just got a new job. Our house is small, but wonderful. I have a garden and even grow some of my own vegetables (though they are a bit bitter). I am able to stay home with my kids. I think I also thought that on some level that meant that I was fading away, but my career does not define me. Being at home does not mean I am fading away. My colors grow brighter, my light grows stronger. Perhaps I am falling though, but now I am learning that falling is not such a bad thing, in fact it is wonderful because it means that I am free. I am home.