Sierra Maree

Hello to all of Mom's Courage Friends! I am already ten weeks old and my mom tells me I am growing like a weed. At my two month check-up I weighed 11 pounds 14 ounces and was 23 inches long. I am working my way right out of my 0-3 month clothes and right into my 3-6 month clothes. Mom wishes I would have worn my cute clothes more than once or twice. I like my mom being home with me but I know that she is looking forward to returning to work in February. I am going to go to Goddard while mom and dad are at work. I think my mom is going to cry when she drops me off for the first time even though she says that she will be just fine. Here are some pictures of me that I wanted to share with mom's friends. I hope you enjoy them and that all of you have a wonderful Christmas & a Happy New Year!

Here we are all dressed up to go to a Christmas party at 9 weeks old.


At 10 weeks old I can hold up my own head. I am a very strong little girl!


I got to visit Santa in November when my Grandma & Grandpa Peterson were in town to meet me. I slept through the whole visit with Santa but I still think he knows what I want for Christmas.

Mom and I are enjoying the unusual Portland weather. I even have my own personal snow suit that some friends in Colorado sent me.

As you can tell I can't wait to see you all in January at the next Courage reunion. I am sorry that I didn't let my mom come to the one in November. I know that she was really upset to miss out on seeing all of you...

Introducing Sierra Maree...

Reflections of a Broken Teacher

Thoughts just thoughts that are plaguing my brain

I had a parent this week call me and chew me out for his kiddo missing three minutes of recess. It was a hard thing for me and I am struggling to shake it. One because I feel wounded by the whole interaction. Here is a man who has never met me and has no idea who I am from Adam and before requesting a conference or even having a reasonable conversation with me he assumes that I am out to get his child and that I have the worst intentions for him.Thus he reaps insults on my teaching philosophy and who I am in the classroom before ever seeing me face to face or listening to what I have to say.

In my heart that is so vurniable and open with my kids this is a hard thing to understand. When I tried to talk to him about policies in my classroom I was cut off and told that there was never a reason for his child not to have all of his recess. What I wanted to say was, "well if you are willing for your child to achieve at lower standards then every other child in my classroom and you are willing to allow your child to tell you half truths then I suppose I am also willing to allow this to happen." Is that how I responded? of course not, but by his behavior you would think that I had beaten his child in school.

It never ceases to amaze me that in everything we do in our community of learners there can still be such huge gaps and misunderstandings between parents and teachers. I spend hours a day with these children trying to instill within them a confidence of themselves as learners and people. I work diligently to give everyone a chance to speak and be real within our class, and I am probably one of them most overly reflective teachers I know...often to my own deteriment. How then I ask myself can such misunderstandings and abuse happen between parents and teachers?

I come to this conclusion.... Quite honestly I think the basis of such interactions is fear. I understand that there is a fear of children not being treated with respect, I too suffer from this fear with my own child. I fear that because Miriam is a unique child she will not be held with care as others are,and that because she is overly bold she will be targeted within the classroom as something that she is not. I have a fear that someone else guiding her on a daily basis will affect what I have worked so hard to instill in her and I have a fear that not being present will affect how she sees the world. It is hard to let go and trust that another human who joins me in the journey of education could/would seek to understand her the way that I do. If I as an educator struggle with this how much more so do my own parents?

And so now I am left with the question of how to alleviate these fears within the parents of my own classroom community? Is this even my responsibility? What part do I carry in supporting students and families alike?

Burning Man Northwest Style

This blog sucks, but the reunion at Edgefield was spot on. I laughed my ass off.

Next go round is even better because we are going to burn shit! That's right. Everyone is going to bring something that they want to light up in flames. On the same note, we are going to sport costumes with the theme of: Fire. Even better, Tonia is going to host. That means you can bring a sleeping bag and sleep on the floor or just pass out next to the massive bon fire.

Please don't tell Tonia, but my personal goal is to stoke a fire big enough that the Fire Department shows up: shhhhhh.

MIA

I feel terribly that I missed our gathering. :( I have not been checking my home email or the blog, and for some reason thought we were meeting on Saturday....... I look forward to our next gathering in Nov.

I have been super busy trying to get organized and find balance with the start of the school year. Anyone else struggle with the summer to school transition? Things are going well though. I look forward to seeing everyone next time. :)

Crystal

You remind me

You remind me I am good.

You remind me there are people who genuinely care.

You remind me I am loved.

You remind me I am lovable.

You remind me I am capable of being social in a group.

You remind me I care about you.

You remind me we are all human and ok with all of our baggage collected during our life's journeys.

You remind me how awesome we all are.

You remind me hugs are important.

You remind me how lucky we are.

You remind me.



I've been asked what and how I am doing...so I wrote another poem...

Summary of my space in this time

floating
creating at will
drifting between
watching
listening
reading
coloring
painting
beading
sewing
enjoying emotional equanimity
pretending to job hunt
loathe to relinquish the soothing creativity.

Courage Reunion September '08

Wendy's Belly

Hello all.

I saw Wendy today and I have to say she was beautiful!! He belly is poofing out and she is certainly looking like a radiant mom to be! It just reminded me of what a powerful community Courage is for in that moment I was reminded of so many treasured memories I hold from this past year.

Hope everyone is well and ready for the school year to start again.

Bekah


P.S. We got the house!? We sign on Monday night. Good times. :)

kay's email

I am hoping for Kay's email address. I want to see those Cherry Trees.

Great Plays for 7th Graders

If you could work with any play and a group of 7th grade students, what play would you choose?

Triathlon

Hey guys! Bekah here. Many of you know that I was in my first triathlon this past Saturday. It was an amazing experience. (Amanda was in it too). In case you were wondering, yes I finished and although there were times where I thought I might drown (1/2 a mile in the water seems to stretch forever when you are surrounded by other peoples bodies) I found that if I just kept stroking/paddling I made it and all was well. I have some great pics but it might take me a while to figure out how to download them because well..........as most of you know I am technologically challenged. But yeah for new adventures anyway :)

Course Evaluation

How do you evaluate that which is everything? What do you call it? Solution? Solace? Savior? I've no idea, but I found a part of something I started to write a very long time ago. With the help of all of you, I picked up a pencil and finished it tonight.  It's my attempt to say what I need to say about this shared experience with you, my silent army of strength and courage. Thank you doesn't begin to cover it.

Dragonslayer

Born of hope

Raised by fear

Taught by violence-

Mistrust ensnaring

Dragging downward drowning 

Dungeon of darkness

Inescapable bitter visions

Gagging, gasping

Death gurgles with open eyes

Glazed

Every moment,

Helpless

To save

So seemingly enslaved

Intangible, elusive warden

Tyrant of self-doubt

Binding heart, blinding love,

Championing dread,

Conquering hope.

Crying for clemency,

My silent army stands

Bearing witness

As I reach reach reach!

With pen in hand,

Ink,

My white knight.

Attacks the darkness,

Spills its blood,

Plunders the demons,

Slays the dragons

Soul reborn,

Set free in

Light.

I am from

This is a poem I wrote during the process of Courage and finding myself. I am amazed at the pieces that make us all well, us.

I am From

I am from a world that I don’t understand

A place that looks one way but lives another

A place that screams for life

But fights against every breath

I am a dichotomy

A woman and yet a child

Fearless and yet terrified

Questioning but running from answers

I am from a world I don’t understand

A place that lives two lives

One sweet

The other bitter

I am a life of mixture

Adoption

And nightmares

Carving Jack-o-lanterns

And suicide

I am from a world I don’t understand

Soccer games

And hidden thoughts

Disney world

And abuse

I am a mix of generations

Christmas trees

And painful memories

Car rides

And concussions

I am from a world I don’t understand

A family of teachers

And rape

A passion for others

And haunting memories

I am a survivor

Of apple pies

And bulimia

Of social injustice

And living a lie

I am from a world I don’t understand

A love of art and teaching

With violence and destruction

Reading children’s books

And being different

I am an educated woman

Degrees

And forced acts

Years of school

And hiding under tables

I am from a world I don’t understand

Awards and acknowledgments

Mania and destruction

Passion and truth

Confusion and agony

I am a person emerging

With a love for children

And a broken heart

Good friends

And my own worst enemy

I am from a world I don’t understand

Good grades

And self destruction

Success in everyone’s eyes

Yet a failure

I am an undiscovered miracle

Valentines cards

And seduction

Playing on Swings

And puking

Yes I am from a world I don’t understand

And I am me

Oregon House Retreat Full Slideshow

Gallery invitation

You are all invited to the Talisman Gallery this Thursday for our Group Show opening. Some of my work from my July show will be in it along with the work of all of my gallery mates. The gallery is in between 14th and 15th on Alberta in Portland. :)

cyclist blog

I spoke with many of you about my sister and brother-in-law who are in the midst of a cross country 6 month bike trip. For those interested, here is a link to their blog:
http://web.mac.com/schultzbike/schultzbike/Welcome.html
There is a lot already posted but both are great writers, excellent photographers and Brian puts together a video for each state. Enjoy!

Momma Tried

I ripped a yellowed sports page of off the box, and there it was. The gift I had been talking about for months: a Lego kingdom. We’re talking about bridges, castles, and all kinds of cool medieval shit. In fact, it was two sets that together would create a fantasy world beyond my imagination. The pictures on the box were incredible, so life like, I could already hear the blood curdling cries for mercy as my knights defended their impenetrable Lego fortress. The half dozen sale tags scribbled out with black magic marker, the duct tape securing two of the corners, and the shrink-wrap that held it all together didn’t matter. This was the best present I ever got. I sat in disbelief. Finally, mom had pulled it off.
Three hours later, tears streaming down my face, I knew I was the dumbest seven year old on the planet. No matter what I did, I just couldn’t get the pieces to fit together, and the box clearly stated: for children three and up.
That’s when my mom came stumbling through the door. She was missing a shoe. Her favorite skirt, the one I’d given to her for mother’s day, had a fresh tear up one side. After a minute of clinging to the wall, she turned and saw me. She tried to straighten herself. Her lips trembled and moved, forming words that never left her mouth.
I was used to her revolving door of boyfriends. I understood that Mac & Cheese was a holiday meal and uncooked Top Ramen was the daily special. And I knew I had to forge her signature on field trip permission forms. But for a moment that day, I had mistakenly thought she was actually going to be a mom.
She hid behind her tangled hair as she made her way towards me at the card table. Silently, she tried to dry my tears with the sleeve of her blouse. And then something happened; she came to my rescue—with her lighter.
As it turned out, the set wasn’t exactly Lego; it was a couple of knock off brands that weren’t compatible. My mom spent the next four hours, hand trembling as she wielded her lighter like an impromptu blowtorch melting the pieces together one by one. She kept asking, “Are you sure you want this piece here?” Biting my lip, all I could do was nod. After awhile the blues and reds began to mix. My birthday present was now a deformed, purple mound of plastic.
My life has often felt like that: melted, swirled, and never quite turning out the way it’s supposed to. But my seventh birthday is one of those stories me and my brother share once a year when we gather at her grave, raise our glasses with love, and declare a simple toast, “Momma tried.”