Big dreams.

Ever since I had to send one of my sweet students home with a case of lice, I’ve been having sympathy itching all over my body.  It’s been going on for about a week now, and I continue to go through the waves of convincing myself that I am afflicted too.  Unable to find nary a louse, I am academically certain that I am free to go on with my life, but can’t seem to stop the sympathy itching.  School is joyous.  Truly.  Day in and out I have small victories and it’s all worth the imaginings of bugs covering my head. 

Last weekend I made a beautiful batch of sandpaper letters, and already my nonreaders and writers are starting to show changes in the way they attempt to sound words.  It’s mundane for most of us, but for Edgar to make and apply the H sound independently is a big deal for Edgar.  

Nick is in Dubuque for a gathering of things and family visit, and I am here in Pilsen, listening to a random racket of teenagers out on the street below our apartment, hopefully heading home and ending the late festivities.  Chocolate chip cookies are in the oven, ready to top off my single lady dinner of leftovers and brie melted on pasta.  I’ve just watched Waiting for Superman, which was not surprising or new, but was re-inspiring and rejuvenating.  The state of education in our country is embarrassing, but also is the state of our teaching force, and without overhaul, change is going to be really slow.  The question is simple, how to revamp the current system in a way that serves the students.  But the problem is complex. Unfortunately for us, we are entrenched in such a deep and old system of power and entitlement: accessing the decision making table is really hard. Somehow we need to involve people in restructuring schools, offering up the feeling of ownership to families and community members and teachers.  If it is the responsibility of us all, equally, then we might find success.

Even with all of these words about saving the world through the children, I feel like I am living a double life.  Simultaneously, I believe that dancing and making the choice to dance, perform, and improvise is a political activist statement and is equally important as being a teacher.  Putting artistry out into the world, the atmosphere, putting intention into the shared air has got to mean something towards our collective good. 

I had such a fulfilling performance one week ago today.  Two of my closest friends, who happen to live their lives in ways that incorporate dancing, and I participated in Collision Theory (curated by the venerable Dan Mohr) at Links Hall.  We improvised for the first time with a band from Madison (Spires that in the Sunset Rise), and Michael Zerang, a household name in the musical improvisation Chicago community.  I could not have asked for more.  

Of course my proverbial cake is huge and beautiful and multi layered. 

This is an old conversation, I realize I want to have and eat the proverbial cake.  There has got to be some way in which I can have a teaching career and a dancing career.  At the same time I know it is only possible with serious accommodations on both sides.  It has to be what I make it.  There are people in this world who dance evenings and weekends and are completely happy.  I can be one of those people.  And then there’s issue of location.  We woke up Sunday morning and Nick rolled over had whispered to me, as he’s oft to do, “let’s get a house in the country, and watch the sun rise and set everyday, and have a bunch of dogs and a bunch of kids, and grow food and eat well.”  And this is the icing on my cake of many desires.  

All of this not to mention the call of the buffalo.  I am so nostalgic for the West, for mountains and plains, for long hikes and campfire food.  Those two months we had were such food for the city soul, those memories will keep me going for a long while, at least until the next time of joblessness and lease-less-ness, which will happen again, if we’re lucky. 

Magical

Magical

Magical

Badlands National Park delights

Saturday September 25 (I'm going to add photos and edits later, limited WIFI = limited time)

Haven’t showered for 3 days, starting to be less worried about picking the miniscule flying bugs off of me, and the howling coyotes or wolves didn’t even keep me up last night.  I didn’t know what day it was until I checked with my computers internal clock, and we’ve been waking up by the lit sky.  Our biggest worry of late was getting to one of the numerous overlooks before the sun set.  Sun, don’t drop so fast!  The rock formations here at Badlands National Park are breathtaking.  The color variation in the striations got more beautiful with the setting sun and the changing light reflection.  We’ve been here for two days now; it’s amazing how fast a place can feel like home when you’re on the road.  Yesterday we arrived in the afternoon, we set up camp and headed to the nearest information/nature center to get some maps.  The rangers that work at nature centers are so generous with their enthusiasm for their work and their park, it’s always inspiring and worthwhile to have a chat and get some advice on trails and park activities.  We did a few shorter hikes and saw a few overlooks, just whetting the appetite for the next days adventuring.  When I was much younger, my family went camping quite often in our huge army green house tent, and my parents always made sure that we took in whatever ranger led program was available.  Last night we walked a short jaunt over to the amphitheater where Ranger Larry and his cohorts did a presentation on the current night sky at Badlands.  It was an all around presentation that included much preventative info about the very common ground friend that happens to have fangs and be venomous.  Superstitious I am, and I’ve decided not to talk about this friend because my fears always get the best of me, and until now I’ve been lucky and not yet seen one underfoot...   We did see a plethora of amazing, beautiful, and resilient animals including big horn sheep, prong horned antelope, some sort of desert deer, falcon, villages of prairie dogs, special blue and yellow birds, and free, roaming, hulking, wise buffalo.  We saw them in their natural habitat, not 20 feet from the road, alone and in herds, these animals have ancient souls that are visible from a distance.  There is something so wise and old about the buffalo and they are such lumbering and heavy creatures, I can’t help but love them.  I may feel differently when one tries to charge me at the buffalo roundup on Monday, but today, I love them.   

Truly the rock formations here are something to behold, if it weren’t for other people, we would have thought we’d woken up on the moon.  There is something so stark and lovely, so quiet and clear about being out on a trail, hearing birds and wind in the prairie grass, looking at ancient sea beds eroding so that the vista is different all the time.  Purposeful pinnacles rising ethereally out of the ground, so little and so much biodiversity at the same time, you have to be still to hear and see it. 

The wildlife here only lets you in if you listen.  The world comes to life in the quiet.