february break, or why i'm a bad adult

no, i did not grade your papers.
no, i did not make progress reports.
no, i didn't scrub every inch of my house.
no, i didn't go anywhere outside of the city.
no, i didn't get my to-do list done.
no, i didn't deal with the adult things.

yes, i visited people i loved and missed.
yes, Sali and Nas got to see more of NYC.
yes, we had bold, new subway adventures.
yes, we made new friends.
yes, daily dance parties.
yes, i made the right choices this break.

livejournal and diaryland

in 1998, i began writing zines.  i miss it so much. not long afterward, i started blogging.  writing out long, cryptic journal entries.  my diaryland has been called "my heart has hit ground zero" since 1999, before "ground zero" was an American thing, and it remains my secret diary.  with no audience, i love the public privacy it affords me.  not that anyone will necessarily want to read my writing after i am gone, but it will all be there as long as archives still exist.  i wish i had all of the entries written down.

there is something i love so much about paper, that blogging can't capture.  don't get me wrong, i love blogs, teach podcasts, use prezis, am constantly trying to teach new skills with regard to technology.  i am no guru, but i like to be aware of some of the tech things.  but, as a i get older, i also crave privacy more.  i don't want to put everything i know and own out there into the world.  having a voice in zines was about making connections with people, but now i need to tend to my connections, love and nurture them, instead of consistently adding more.  i want fewer friends, of quality, and the circle will always be drawn large, but my life is very social by nature of being a teacher.  sometimes i want calm and quiet.

the truth is, i couldn't handle zines anymore, anyway.  it takes me weeks to mail something out that i would've had out the door the next day in college - i have become so much less efficient than i used to be.  but i'm adulting in different ways, in caring for kids ways, and my time is spent laundry-ing, and cleaning and dancing and playing soccer, basketball, hockey and dinosaur stomping.  watching her learn to walk.  if the people are fewer now, so are the words.  life feels too full to stop and document all of the time.  paying bills on-time is a growth area.

mashallah.  it is a blessing to feel full, to have home be something i meditate on, and work to improve.  i am imperfect as a teacher, as a mom, as a woman, as a wife, but i try hard, and i keep showing up.   good luck on Regents, 1st semester is coming to a close and now it is time to act.  what will drive you to wake up in the morning?  this is what we're going to write about now.

ms. lauren

get UP

it is hard to believe that i go from fall to winter without a word, but have been too busy to notice the drought. i am writing all the time.  my journal is ripped from the files of DMX: "ya'll gon make me write some words, up in here up in here".  what i write these days are lists of things to do that go undone, financial planning that goes unused, scribbles of moments to my son and my daughter, scores and grades on random assignments on every available surface.  they will have thousands of photographs to chart my kids' ascent into childhood, but i want the words to be there, too.  when i am no longer, at least there are the words.

it has not yet been winter. it is december 19th, and though it is finally starting to feel cold, the signatures of global warming are marking our weather patterns, and yet still so many people are asleep. don't understand what is happening.  sometimes i am reminded of the matrix, in the scene where Mr. Anderson tells Neo that human beings are like a virus, infecting a host and taking over. we have done this to our planet.  the summit in Paris gives me a little hope, but i am bleak about humanity's ability to wake up - to tear ourselves from our electronic devices for long enough to realize how we are destroying ourselves.  mother earth will recover from us quickly, but why do we have to live like disaster calls our names?

we are at war with ourselves.  there is the incessant need by the news to create an enemy, to bring fear to the hearts of every person, which then justifies governments/companies trapsing through the world like it's a Monopoly board.  and it is, to them, it's all a game.  people are pawns, are property, always have been, always will be.  whether the enemy is wearing hijab and prays to God by a different name, mashallah!  whether the enemy is wearing a hoodie, carrying Skittles and an Arizona. we hide behind the guns that can end lives, instead of discussing differences, mutual respect and how to get along, why to get along.  if they pit us against each other, we do not realize that we are in the game. ChiRaq? who put the guns in the hood in the first place?

i am tired, ill, behind on grading.  not feeling the holiday spirit, but always feeling so full and grateful with what i have.  my voice is crackling and threatening to give out.  but i will not be quiet.  there is too much at stake. our lives, our communities, our future is hinged upon waking up and using the freedom of voice that you have.  it is a privilege, not a right, and it is time to move from thought to action.  i will be right here, documenting what you do.  i will help you, but you must move.

Time to make the donuts

Of course, J Dilla is the soundtrack to the mood swing that shifts summer to fall. I did Detroit dirty when I was home, only came in for a Tigers game like most white people that circumvent the city. My absence speaks volumes to me, I am at odds with much of the gentrification of Detroit and the white-hipsterdom that flanks my favorite building, which much to my surprise was also having windows put in.

This trip was also about family, and none of mine is in the city proper anymore. Suburban sprawl is the story of southeastern Michigan, and while I was born in Detroit and spent my youngest years in Dearborn, Ann Arbor is really my home.  I rep Detroit on the macro scale, but when we get micro, I need to be real with you: I am not from the hood.

I have chosen to make the hood my home, and my life, and that is white privilege, too. I reap it everyday when I walk the streets alone, but when I'm with my husband, or my kids, it's strange to see my positionality change. Identity is complex like that. You cannot make assumptions about people. But you can begin by listening to their stories.

We're going to be delving into the drama of identities. When you feel yourself compartmentalized or disconnected, hopefully these exercises will help you connect with others again. We are more alike than different, us  humans, but there is how the world has cultured and shaped us. We created the difference and now cannot undo our creation.  Race does not exist, but racism does.  Discuss.

shifting back... twisting forward.

this marks the end of an audience for my blog, but it has been a nice run.  the end of the year is approaching, so i will write about 50 reflections on how it went.  i'm such a nerd.  i'm already working on next year and what i will change, how things will be different, moving around books and units, trying to work new ideas into this.  how can i continue to bring in historical context, but also talk about current topics and issues, keep a pulse on music and its intersection with life?

i was going to apply to this amazing program called Write A House in Detroit, because i do want to set roots and also be working in education there, even as i continue teaching at BAL.  if i had a house there, we could live there during summers, begin the community space we want to (which includes foster/shelter space), spend breaks there but hire other folks to run and care for the house.  right now i feel at home in my life, and i am not looking to open it up any more, but maybe someday...

the risks that i want to take, however, are in my writing, and i don't feel like i had any writing that was solid enough to submit.  i wouldn't have won, but i should have submitted.  it's been a semester of making excuses, but my life is mine to take by the reins.  i say this every year, but it's really time to get organized.

i have a big summer bucket list.  there is so much that i WILL get done.  with my kids in tow, with a killer tan, all smiles and sunglasses, all music and mango.

- figment art festival
- brooklyn promenade
- coney island w/ nas, sali and mohammad
- rockaways
- orchard beach
- liberty science center
- newport beach, jc
- jersey shore
- traverse city
- detroit
- soccer in lincoln park - 3x a week
- the heights
- egyptian festival
- bday brunch
- visit: baby mama and joe, jingy, amama/papa, elena, amanda & karl, jyna, jos, keisha, grandma and grandpa (flynn and fardig), amy and mani, danny and randi, gen, dario and michael, nicco, lindsey, t'ai jamar, maija g.,
- cleaning/organizing house
- curriculum planning
- UP summer mural and next year


the work never stops, but neither does the fun.  night night.
-l

The end is only the beginning (BAL Blog Post #11)

I can't believe it's almost over.  This has been such an amazing year where I have learned so much from you, and I have been trying to meditate and master balance.  3 day weekends have a habit of bringing you the balance and time to reflect that you need.  In fact, if we went to a 4 day work/school week each week, I bet we'd all actually be a lot more productive.  Families would be healthier, stronger, together more often.

But I digress.  Our year together is coming to an end, and I will honestly miss the time, space and communities we have built together.  my 2nd period class is always lit with videos like this: "Stromae - "Papaoutai"", 3rd period I will always remember for our arguments and discussions, like the one about Kendrick's "hiiiPower", 4th used to be a huge class with Ms. Cotton, one of my favorite days was discussing Biggie's "Juicy", but we've also had so many memories as a small but spirited crew!  Oh, and 7th period, I especially enjoyed the silence with you.   We made it through narrative essays, poetry, Beloved, my maternity leave, a (still unfinished) zine/newspaper and A Raisin in the Sun.  Through it all, I tried to weave in current events around police brutality, race and class in the U.S. and link it to our history through the texts we were reading.

One of the most difficult, high-level texts we read was from Michelle Alexander's book "The New Jim Crow", and we learned about the Reconstruction Era - after the Emancipation Proclamation was signed, and the laws began to change to convict freed slaves of any number of inane laws in order to maintain dominance.  She makes the direct connection between the Black Codes and laws of this time period in beginning the modern prison system, and the prison industrial complex (in which prison is for-profit and someone is making money off of every jail cell that stays filled).  I hope that I have begun to get you to question what you see in the media, and consider that violence against black people has always been a custom in the United States, and that while police brutality is still a huge problem, this has been going on for a long time.  

I don't think you'll necessarily think back on this year and say lovingly, "oh, annotation! so glad I met you!",  but I do hope that you fondly remember some of the conversations we had, about books, about life, about trying to change and shape our world into a place that is rooted in equality and justice. About dreams and making ours into realities.   Because your dream has been deferred, but you do not have to sit back and let it happen.  Take your future back.  I dare you!

(please leave as comments your reflections on my class.  this will be an ongoing and open assignment until the end of the year, as I want to hear about moments you'll always remember, things you enjoy about my class, what I need to change next year so you'll stay awake, which books/songs/topics you liked most, your ideas for improvement.  my class is only good because of you, so help me make it better for next year's you.)

I don't say goodbye, I say, "you won't get rid of me that easily". Until we meet again (in the hall next year, while I'm pushing my mobile classroom around!)

xoxo
Ms Lauren

Requiem for a Spine (BAL Blog Post #10)

in honor of national poem in a pocket day tomorrow.  we will respond to this next week, but if you feel so inclined, after you're done reading post #9 and responding, you can also write your own poem here in the comments!

-Ms. Lauren

requiem for a spine

they say that they didn't strap him into the van,
and that is how his spine was severed.
they say that he had a hammer in his hand,
and that is why they squeezed 10 rounds off.
they say that she was carrying a knife,
in her own home,
and that is why they opened fire.
they say that he assaulted the officer,
that he stole something,
that he was selling cigarettes,
that he had a gun and not a wallet,
that she was an intruder on the porch at 2am.

when his spine snapped,
our breathing went shallow.
when his eyes dropped,
we coughed up a lead-filled lung.
when her knees hit the floor,
we sputtered.
when he backed away, hands up,
blood dribbled from our noses.
when his breath stopped,
our eyes bulged in terror,
our mouths went dry
our wallets spilled out receipts
our car batteries stalled in middle of the road.

your hands around my throat.
your eyes doused in hatred,
as you bring dreams to abrupt ends,
that had already been
shoved under the rug
and forgotten.

we dare to dream anyway,
defiantly, because we will bring
to fruition what you have stolen,
what they have wrenched away
from so many others,
and what we all deserve.