Last week, Starbucks decided it was a good idea to encourage customers and baristas to engage in conversations about race. I am not convinced that is a venue I would be comfortable talking about a topic that has been so charged with passion and drama for centuries, and especially within the past few years here in America.
That being said, why not blog about it?? Each one of us has our own unique, personal account of how we grew up with other races, what our perceptions, beliefs and experiences are, etc. Here's mine.
When I was 3 or 4, growing up in Pasadena, CA, I asked my mom one day "why is Fred always dirty?" I was referring to our cleaning person, who was a middle-aged African-American man. I don't even remember what my mom said. I do know that he was a really kind, soft-spoken man who our family liked, trusted and employed for several years. I will simply blame that question on my youth . . . .
When I was in 6th grade, I was bused to a school on the north part of the city. This would have been during the early 70s, when integration was a pretty huge issue in Pasadena, as well as other parts of the nation. Many parents were pulling their children out of public schools right and left, in a movement called "white flight", and enrolling them in private schools. My parents did nothing of the sort, and I was glad they didn't. I enjoyed my 6th grade year at Washington. My teacher, a young Jewish man named Mr. Fine, read "The Hobbit" to us at the end of every day. I do remember being afraid one day that Cynthia, a large black girl, was going to kick my ass the next day. Somehow, I was able to negotiate a peace agreement, and that fight never materialized.
Middle school (McKinley) and high school (Blair) were fairly "uneventful". Most of my classmates were white, and the ones that weren't were, to me, just another classmate. I was to be the number one tennis player my junior year, but Lloyd Bourne transferred from a private school and bumped me to #2. This was around 1975, during the time Arthur Ashe was a professional player. Lloyd was nationally ranked, and one of the few ranked players of color during that time. We became fast friends, and when he was bored or couldn't find anyone good to practice with, he would hit with me. He came over to my house a few times, and I visited his apartment, as well. He went on to Stanford, played on the pro tour a few years, then started having back problems.
I do remember, while I was in high school, writing a letter to the editor of the Los Angeles Times in favor of forced school busing, for the purpose of racial integration. Highly controversial topic, and 40 years later, not exactly sure where I stand, or if this is even still an issue in certain parts of America (forced busing to achieve integration). I was thankful that I was able to experience people of another race in a school setting, as my neighborhood was pretty "non-mixed".
In college, at the University of Redlands, the one African-American student who stands out the most in my memory is the brother of Natalie Cole, the son of Nat King Cole, Kelly Cole. He later died of complications with HIV-AIDS.
Fast forward to today. I have spent the past two decades working for the San Bernardino City Unified School District. Our district is roughly 65% Latino, 10% caucasian, 15% African-American, and 10% "other". These statistics are fast becoming obsolete due, if for no other reason, to the steady rise of "mixed" race individuals. I remember teaching spades to African-American students during my 6th period conference while listening to Tupac Shakur. "What up my nigga?" would actually be a greeting I would receive every once in awhile. To me, it was a sign that I was respected, that I was "welcomed" into their world. And no, I would not return the same greeting . . .although I do remember saying something like "Oh, so now I'm your nigga?!?"
I tell people "I am mixed". When they ask with what, I tell them: 1/2 Italian, 1/2 Spanish. "That's not mixed!" they argue. Really? So the only way one can be mixed is if you're half black/half Spanish? Who came up with that rule?!? The stories I could tell over two decades of being a high school teacher, counselor and coach in a city so racially diverse would take us into the next decade. Perhaps during retirement, that book I have been threatening to write may actually become a reality . . . .
Saturday, March 21, 2015
Sunday, November 13, 2011
I Hit A Pedestrian
Back in my mid-late 20s, I hit a pedestrian. I was driving along Redlands Blvd. going west past the Redlands Mall, and a man started crossing the street. If he had kept going, he would have been fine. But he stopped, turned and looked straight at my car, and started walking back toward the sidewalk. I did not have time to react, and we met "head to windshield" at the curb. I thought I had just killed someone. He was pretty messed up--spent 3 months in the hospital. My insurance company "invited" me to a mediation hearing where I was found "zero" percent at fault, and the pedestrian was found "100" percent at fault. Prior to this incident, I had been eating frozen yogurt with my friend; the man I hit had been drinking beers all afternoon behind the carwash with his buddies after a long, hot day of work. His blood alcohol level was sky-high. Even with that verdict, I still felt terrible. I (my car) jacked the guy up pretty badly. My instinct in the days following the accident was to visit the guy in the hospital--at least send him a card. "Do not--under any circumstances--attempt to communicate in any way with the man you just hit" was the message from the insurance company, as my effort might be construed as an admission of guilt. So I didn't.
While coaching the women's tennis team for Cal State San Bernardino, I was called into the Athletic Director's office for comments I had made to one of my players. "Do you need some help with those?" Seven words--that's all it took. A player was attempting to take off her warm-ups after warming up in preparation for our match against UC San Diego. The head coach had taken the weekend off (she was pregnant) so it was Coach Smeby and a van full of female college players. If you have ever tried to take off your pants/warm-ups with your shoes on, sometimes you are hopping around, almost tipping over, in an attempt to balance yourself and remove the unwanted clothing. My question was in jest--the player was obviously having a difficult time with her warm-ups--it was comical to me. I was sitting on a bench one court away at the time. "Do you need some help with those?" We lost the match and headed home. The following week after practice, I was walking back to the office with the head coach and she said "Ok, I know you're not going to want to hear this--you'll probably just want to quit". "Ok, try me." She went on to say that my comment about asking if the player needed help taking off her warm-ups was taken in the wrong way. I was asked to write a statement about what happened. I was "invited" to attend a meeting with the Athletic Director for the college and the head coach. I was told to have no further contact with that player unless it related directly to the coaching of tennis ("follow through", "nice shot", etc.). I didn't quit. I wasn't fired. And, thankfully, a year or so after that, I had an opportunity to personally apologize to the player when I saw her at a tennis tournament.
Not the two proudest moments of my life, the ones I chronicled above. And, truth be told, yes--there are others! I am thankful for two things: one, that I am not "famous", and the press has not yet dispatched news vans to my home or place of employment, awaiting my every misstep and plastering the results all over the front page; and two, that I have friends and family that know me for more than my most famous mistakes, and love me in spite of them. When I am laid to rest, my hope would be that I would be remembered for more than just the negative things. It is human nature to think about, talk about, dwell on the negative things in life--whether it is about ourselves or other people.
This past week has been a difficult week for Penn State head football coach Joe Paterno (it is a given that the child abuse victims have had a much more difficult time--perhaps I will write a post about them one day; in the meantime, I will stay focused on Coach Paterno). Here is an 84-year-old man who, about a decade ago, made a fateful decision to not notify police, but instead the Penn State Athletic Director after being given information (it is till unclear as to exactly what information he was given) about an alleged child abuse incident. A major lapse in judgement? Yes, I believe the only thing to do is remove him from his coaching position. Done. At the same time, are we to completely discount the entire body of this man's life? That he has been one of the greatest college football coaches ever is a given. Far beyond "win-loss" records, however, people (current and former players, coaching staff, etc) are coming out of the woodwork saying things like "this man, over the decades, has been like a father figure to me--his influence has gone far beyond the football field in my life". I experienced much the same thing spending four years with Coach Verdieck on the University of Redlands tennis courts. Was he a perfect man who made all the right decisions? Of course not.
Final thought: if we, as onlookers to this tragic saga, end up characterizing Joe Paterno's life using a lens that sees and remembers nothing more than his failure in properly handling this one incident, a tragedy of another type will have occurred.
While coaching the women's tennis team for Cal State San Bernardino, I was called into the Athletic Director's office for comments I had made to one of my players. "Do you need some help with those?" Seven words--that's all it took. A player was attempting to take off her warm-ups after warming up in preparation for our match against UC San Diego. The head coach had taken the weekend off (she was pregnant) so it was Coach Smeby and a van full of female college players. If you have ever tried to take off your pants/warm-ups with your shoes on, sometimes you are hopping around, almost tipping over, in an attempt to balance yourself and remove the unwanted clothing. My question was in jest--the player was obviously having a difficult time with her warm-ups--it was comical to me. I was sitting on a bench one court away at the time. "Do you need some help with those?" We lost the match and headed home. The following week after practice, I was walking back to the office with the head coach and she said "Ok, I know you're not going to want to hear this--you'll probably just want to quit". "Ok, try me." She went on to say that my comment about asking if the player needed help taking off her warm-ups was taken in the wrong way. I was asked to write a statement about what happened. I was "invited" to attend a meeting with the Athletic Director for the college and the head coach. I was told to have no further contact with that player unless it related directly to the coaching of tennis ("follow through", "nice shot", etc.). I didn't quit. I wasn't fired. And, thankfully, a year or so after that, I had an opportunity to personally apologize to the player when I saw her at a tennis tournament.
Not the two proudest moments of my life, the ones I chronicled above. And, truth be told, yes--there are others! I am thankful for two things: one, that I am not "famous", and the press has not yet dispatched news vans to my home or place of employment, awaiting my every misstep and plastering the results all over the front page; and two, that I have friends and family that know me for more than my most famous mistakes, and love me in spite of them. When I am laid to rest, my hope would be that I would be remembered for more than just the negative things. It is human nature to think about, talk about, dwell on the negative things in life--whether it is about ourselves or other people.
This past week has been a difficult week for Penn State head football coach Joe Paterno (it is a given that the child abuse victims have had a much more difficult time--perhaps I will write a post about them one day; in the meantime, I will stay focused on Coach Paterno). Here is an 84-year-old man who, about a decade ago, made a fateful decision to not notify police, but instead the Penn State Athletic Director after being given information (it is till unclear as to exactly what information he was given) about an alleged child abuse incident. A major lapse in judgement? Yes, I believe the only thing to do is remove him from his coaching position. Done. At the same time, are we to completely discount the entire body of this man's life? That he has been one of the greatest college football coaches ever is a given. Far beyond "win-loss" records, however, people (current and former players, coaching staff, etc) are coming out of the woodwork saying things like "this man, over the decades, has been like a father figure to me--his influence has gone far beyond the football field in my life". I experienced much the same thing spending four years with Coach Verdieck on the University of Redlands tennis courts. Was he a perfect man who made all the right decisions? Of course not.
Final thought: if we, as onlookers to this tragic saga, end up characterizing Joe Paterno's life using a lens that sees and remembers nothing more than his failure in properly handling this one incident, a tragedy of another type will have occurred.
Friday, April 15, 2011
My Birthday
Yesterday I celebrated another birthday. It was the perfect day!
I arrived at school and waiting for me with a colorful bouquet of balloons and a cupcake were Arvonique and Arvon. At my school, we really don't do a lot of staff "celebrations" like we used to, so until 2:11, things were pretty much as usual at Golden Valley.
After school Arvon and I picked up Dre from the house and began our mission: get them a haircut. Arvon was first: pretty sure when he walked into Great Clips on University, the ladies on the other side of the counter were contemplating taking their break a little early. One brave soul stepped up and actually took the job. (not sure how many years it had been since his last cut)
After a brief stop at Farmer Boys (if you haven't tried the Oreo shake, I highly recommend it), we dropped Arvon off at the house, where Tolano asks if he can get in the action. Next stop--a hole-in-the-wall barber shop on Sierra Way. 6 barber chairs, one "stylist"--we waited for about 20 minutes watching "cage fighting" on the big screen, before walking out.
One of Tolano's friends who was along for the ride, Treshawn, suggested a place over by Bakers near Shandin Hills. Now THIS was a place right out of the movie ("Barbershop"). Didn't mind the wait, because the conversation was beyond entertaining. After about 30 minutes, Dre was in the chair. During Tolano's turn, two guys brought in these mouth-watering dinners from 3 shops down--fresh soul food. We decided to ditch Tolano (he doesn't like chicken, anyway) and check out what was cookin'. We ordered one 4-piece meal--$10.99. She started dippin the chicken pieces in the flour right before our eyes. We got to pick 2 sides: mac n cheese and spaghetti--and she threw in a large peach cobbler on the house (fairly certain it was because I kept commenting what a lovely smile she had). Unbelieveably delicious . . .and enough food for me, Dre, Tolano and his two friends.
On the ride home they spotted some ballers at the church around the corner, so dropped them off for some hoops action. Auntie texted me to see if I could pick Nemesia up from class (she gets out at 8:20 on Thursdays) so Arvonique and I took a road trip to Valley College. We arrived a bit early, opened the moonroof and listened to praise music until she came out. One last stop at the Carl's Jr. drive-thru before calling it a day (ok, night). Arrived back in Yucaipa about 10:00 pm, called my friends Brian and Elisa, and went to bed.
Tomorrow night, I will be celebrating at Andrew's house (his grandma and I will share a party) after a full day of tennis in the afternoon, and one week from tomorrow my family in Rancho Santa Fe will wrap-up this year's birthday celebration with dinner, and possibly a movie the night before Easter . . . .
Lately, I am feeling beyond blessed!
I arrived at school and waiting for me with a colorful bouquet of balloons and a cupcake were Arvonique and Arvon. At my school, we really don't do a lot of staff "celebrations" like we used to, so until 2:11, things were pretty much as usual at Golden Valley.
After school Arvon and I picked up Dre from the house and began our mission: get them a haircut. Arvon was first: pretty sure when he walked into Great Clips on University, the ladies on the other side of the counter were contemplating taking their break a little early. One brave soul stepped up and actually took the job. (not sure how many years it had been since his last cut)
After a brief stop at Farmer Boys (if you haven't tried the Oreo shake, I highly recommend it), we dropped Arvon off at the house, where Tolano asks if he can get in the action. Next stop--a hole-in-the-wall barber shop on Sierra Way. 6 barber chairs, one "stylist"--we waited for about 20 minutes watching "cage fighting" on the big screen, before walking out.
One of Tolano's friends who was along for the ride, Treshawn, suggested a place over by Bakers near Shandin Hills. Now THIS was a place right out of the movie ("Barbershop"). Didn't mind the wait, because the conversation was beyond entertaining. After about 30 minutes, Dre was in the chair. During Tolano's turn, two guys brought in these mouth-watering dinners from 3 shops down--fresh soul food. We decided to ditch Tolano (he doesn't like chicken, anyway) and check out what was cookin'. We ordered one 4-piece meal--$10.99. She started dippin the chicken pieces in the flour right before our eyes. We got to pick 2 sides: mac n cheese and spaghetti--and she threw in a large peach cobbler on the house (fairly certain it was because I kept commenting what a lovely smile she had). Unbelieveably delicious . . .and enough food for me, Dre, Tolano and his two friends.
On the ride home they spotted some ballers at the church around the corner, so dropped them off for some hoops action. Auntie texted me to see if I could pick Nemesia up from class (she gets out at 8:20 on Thursdays) so Arvonique and I took a road trip to Valley College. We arrived a bit early, opened the moonroof and listened to praise music until she came out. One last stop at the Carl's Jr. drive-thru before calling it a day (ok, night). Arrived back in Yucaipa about 10:00 pm, called my friends Brian and Elisa, and went to bed.
Tomorrow night, I will be celebrating at Andrew's house (his grandma and I will share a party) after a full day of tennis in the afternoon, and one week from tomorrow my family in Rancho Santa Fe will wrap-up this year's birthday celebration with dinner, and possibly a movie the night before Easter . . . .
Lately, I am feeling beyond blessed!
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Paying it Forward
During breakfast yesterday with a good friend at McDuff's in Redlands (best omlettes west of the Mississippi), we arrived at this conclusion: yes, the economy is horrific; perhaps because of this fact, many people are stepping up and helping other people in amazing ways.
I shared about a few articles I have read recently: one, about a woman who owns a small business with about 8 employees. When it became apparent that this woman would need to lay someone off in order for the business to survive, she simply could not get herself to do it. She had come to love and respect too much the people who had helped her build the business. Her solution: she basically fired herself. "You are more than competent and capable to run this show, and you will. I will check in periodically when I can." She stepped into something part-time, earning a fraction of what she had made running the company. Most important to her was that those who had been so loyal to her--her employees--would not be affected by the economy.
This morning, I read of a woman who lost her only son in Iraq 7 years ago. She was so consummed with grief she didn't really think she could go on. While he was serving she would send him care packages on a monthly basis. She began to send care packages to some of his comrades--especially those who never received mail or support from home. People heard about her efforts and started donating goods, time, a truck, etc. A few years ago a philanthropist from Orange County pledged 1.5 million dollars to help support her efforts. She has been sending literally hundreds of boxes monthly overseas to servicemen in Iraq and Afghanistan who otherwise might not receive anything from "home". "You have become like a mom to us" one thank you note read. This doesn't really have much to do with the economy, but it is a great story.
Another article I read recently chronicled how often times when someone receives a donated kidney (giving them a new lease on life), someone in their family--or a close friend--ends up deciding that they want to "pay it forward" and donate a kidney. Hospitals report that when this happens, the "links in the chain" often times goes up to 7 after an initial kidney donation. This, to me, is amazing. I was in the Starbucks drive-thru a couple months ago, pulled forward to pay for my coffee, and the barista said "Not necessary--the person ahead of you paid for your drink". Here was this random person I didn't know who just decided they'd put a smile on someone's face. "Ok, that's pretty cool--can you do that for the person behind me?" Who knows how long that "chain" had been going--or how long it would last--but it was a very refreshing way to start the day. Sure, donating a cup of coffee is a far cry from donating a kidney--understood. But it really is the thought that counts.
I was an unwanted child. I was adopted--as an infant--by two people who wanted to have children. My parents had adopted my sister two years prior to "finding" me. If you know anything about the parents who found me, you know that I (and my sister) are two of the most blessed children in the world. Nearly two years ago, after losing both my mom and dad, I was "readopted" by my good friends the Reynolds, who live in Rancho Santa Fe. I spent Thanksgiving with my new family, and will--for the second year in a row--be in the family Christmas card photo. Again, how much more blessed can a guy become?!? Well, once again, it is time to "pay it forward". If you scroll down to the blog I wrote a few weeks ago about a family in San Bernardino, you will read about a Target gift card. Frankly, at this point, that doesn't even come close to where the story is leading. Let's just say that in the truest sense of adoption--beyond gift cards--it is now time for this adopted son to step up to the plate. 'Tis the season . . . .
I shared about a few articles I have read recently: one, about a woman who owns a small business with about 8 employees. When it became apparent that this woman would need to lay someone off in order for the business to survive, she simply could not get herself to do it. She had come to love and respect too much the people who had helped her build the business. Her solution: she basically fired herself. "You are more than competent and capable to run this show, and you will. I will check in periodically when I can." She stepped into something part-time, earning a fraction of what she had made running the company. Most important to her was that those who had been so loyal to her--her employees--would not be affected by the economy.
This morning, I read of a woman who lost her only son in Iraq 7 years ago. She was so consummed with grief she didn't really think she could go on. While he was serving she would send him care packages on a monthly basis. She began to send care packages to some of his comrades--especially those who never received mail or support from home. People heard about her efforts and started donating goods, time, a truck, etc. A few years ago a philanthropist from Orange County pledged 1.5 million dollars to help support her efforts. She has been sending literally hundreds of boxes monthly overseas to servicemen in Iraq and Afghanistan who otherwise might not receive anything from "home". "You have become like a mom to us" one thank you note read. This doesn't really have much to do with the economy, but it is a great story.
Another article I read recently chronicled how often times when someone receives a donated kidney (giving them a new lease on life), someone in their family--or a close friend--ends up deciding that they want to "pay it forward" and donate a kidney. Hospitals report that when this happens, the "links in the chain" often times goes up to 7 after an initial kidney donation. This, to me, is amazing. I was in the Starbucks drive-thru a couple months ago, pulled forward to pay for my coffee, and the barista said "Not necessary--the person ahead of you paid for your drink". Here was this random person I didn't know who just decided they'd put a smile on someone's face. "Ok, that's pretty cool--can you do that for the person behind me?" Who knows how long that "chain" had been going--or how long it would last--but it was a very refreshing way to start the day. Sure, donating a cup of coffee is a far cry from donating a kidney--understood. But it really is the thought that counts.
I was an unwanted child. I was adopted--as an infant--by two people who wanted to have children. My parents had adopted my sister two years prior to "finding" me. If you know anything about the parents who found me, you know that I (and my sister) are two of the most blessed children in the world. Nearly two years ago, after losing both my mom and dad, I was "readopted" by my good friends the Reynolds, who live in Rancho Santa Fe. I spent Thanksgiving with my new family, and will--for the second year in a row--be in the family Christmas card photo. Again, how much more blessed can a guy become?!? Well, once again, it is time to "pay it forward". If you scroll down to the blog I wrote a few weeks ago about a family in San Bernardino, you will read about a Target gift card. Frankly, at this point, that doesn't even come close to where the story is leading. Let's just say that in the truest sense of adoption--beyond gift cards--it is now time for this adopted son to step up to the plate. 'Tis the season . . . .
Monday, December 6, 2010
Adopting a Family for Christmas
I am adopting a family this Christmas, and this is their story.
The family is made up of one auntie and 6 of her neices and nephews (5th grade thru senior in high school). The 6 kids have 3 different fathers, all deceased. Their mother lives in Los Angeles, and is unfit to care for any of them (has been that way for the past 7 years, and may never change).
This auntie works at one of our San Bernardino city schools providing clerical support. For the past 7 years, she has been raising 6 kids in a 3 bedroom apartment a few blocks from the middle school where I work.
All are good students. The senior and the youngest are musicians; one is a cheerleader, two are basketball players (one plays varsity in high school) and one is a football player (Jr. All-American league--he gets a scholarship from the coach).
The auntie receives Section 8 housing assistance and food stamps. Through her work, she is able to provide health insurance for the kids. There is no phone or internet access at the apartment. She is a woman of faith, and her faith has not been broken.
I know her personally, and I know each of her neices and nephews. And, frankly, I have no clue how she has been able to do what she has done with these kids, day after day (one car), year after year. She is an unsung hero--an angel.
If you have ever watched Extreme Home Makeover, this is one family who could easily qualify to be on that program.
My "adoption" idea is a bit less ambitious. I would like to give the auntie a gift card from Target next week before we go on our holiday break. She could use it to buy food, clothing, linens, gifts for the kids--whatever.
I know we all have our financial obligations this time of the year. If you would like to help put a smile on 7 faces (let's include yours and mine--that makes 9), I am inviting my Facebook friends to join me in contributing to this Target gift card. I will be matching (up to $500) whatever amount is sent my way.
If you are moved in any way by the story of these 6 kids and their auntie, could you take 3-4 minutes to write a check (of any amount) and address an envelope?
John Smeby
985 Kendall Dr., #A256
San Bernardino, CA 92407
I will be purchasing the gift card this weekend. This is my mailing address (I still live in Yucaipa). Your gift won't be tax-deductible, and if you're like me, that's not why you give. This season, it's all about smiles . . . .
The family is made up of one auntie and 6 of her neices and nephews (5th grade thru senior in high school). The 6 kids have 3 different fathers, all deceased. Their mother lives in Los Angeles, and is unfit to care for any of them (has been that way for the past 7 years, and may never change).
This auntie works at one of our San Bernardino city schools providing clerical support. For the past 7 years, she has been raising 6 kids in a 3 bedroom apartment a few blocks from the middle school where I work.
All are good students. The senior and the youngest are musicians; one is a cheerleader, two are basketball players (one plays varsity in high school) and one is a football player (Jr. All-American league--he gets a scholarship from the coach).
The auntie receives Section 8 housing assistance and food stamps. Through her work, she is able to provide health insurance for the kids. There is no phone or internet access at the apartment. She is a woman of faith, and her faith has not been broken.
I know her personally, and I know each of her neices and nephews. And, frankly, I have no clue how she has been able to do what she has done with these kids, day after day (one car), year after year. She is an unsung hero--an angel.
If you have ever watched Extreme Home Makeover, this is one family who could easily qualify to be on that program.
My "adoption" idea is a bit less ambitious. I would like to give the auntie a gift card from Target next week before we go on our holiday break. She could use it to buy food, clothing, linens, gifts for the kids--whatever.
I know we all have our financial obligations this time of the year. If you would like to help put a smile on 7 faces (let's include yours and mine--that makes 9), I am inviting my Facebook friends to join me in contributing to this Target gift card. I will be matching (up to $500) whatever amount is sent my way.
If you are moved in any way by the story of these 6 kids and their auntie, could you take 3-4 minutes to write a check (of any amount) and address an envelope?
John Smeby
985 Kendall Dr., #A256
San Bernardino, CA 92407
I will be purchasing the gift card this weekend. This is my mailing address (I still live in Yucaipa). Your gift won't be tax-deductible, and if you're like me, that's not why you give. This season, it's all about smiles . . . .
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Middle school counseling in San Bernardino
I was at Subway for lunch today, and was talking with the girl making my sandwich. I told her there was no way I could do her job, and she agreed she probably couldn't do mine. When people ask where I work, I usually respond with something like "if you call sitting around talking with kids all day work, then fine", but this is actually a tounge-in-cheek response. It is that, but it is much more.
When I first left the English classroom at Cajon about 8 years ago to become a middle school counselor, I really had no idea what I was getting into. I remember the first week a 6th grade girl came into my office in tears (she was like, what, 11 years old?). I was thinking to myself her grandma must have just passed away or something. But no. "I thought I knew who my best friend was, but now I'm not really sure, because she has a different best friend". This hit me like a ton of bricks, because, like so many things I would (and continue to) encounter, I was not prepared for this in my counseling classes. So I had to "get into" the world of a 6th grader REALLY fast.
Since that first week, I can truly say that every day (unlike teaching high school English) has been different from the next. Many days are fairly non-eventful, and I am thankful for those. Because the ones that are "eventful"--they are not always pleasant. Like the year I had a 7th grade girl come in my office telling me that her mother just died from AIDS, and her father was in the hospital--with AIDS. Then later that year, she informed me that yes, her father, too, had joined her mother in death. And toward the end of last year, when an 8th grade boy attempted suicide. I found this out from a note a teacher confiscated. I called the boy in, and he nodded his head--yes, this was true, but apparently he did not take enough pills. When I was on the phone with his guardian (step-dad--mom had disappeared two years ago, and never did find out about biological dad), informing him that his stepson attempted to take his own life earlier that week, the best he could come up with was "Dammit, I am so sick and tired of that kid--he was caught with weed a couple weeks ago. I'm through with him--might as well send him back to his mom". And then a couple weeks ago a 7th grade girl was in tears on my couch because both parents have been out of work, they just sit at home drinking away their depression.
These (true) stories are often times balanced with remarkable students doing remarkable things both in and out of the classroom, or on the athletic field, etc. It is not all bad, and I am thankful that even in the desperate situations I shared above, there is often times a positive resolution, healing, etc. But often times, unfortunately, there is not.
This morning began with not one, but two teachers stopping by my office seeking assistance in filing a CPS report. I also placed a call to one of my students' parole officers. This 8th grade boy has been in juvy for about a week or so for breaking into a house to steal some video gaming equipment. I was inquiring about receiving clearance to visit him while he was locked up. I then met with a 7th grade girl and her parents who claimed a student had sexually harrassed their daughter. My day ended around 5:15 when our boys softball team lost in the championship game to Cesar Chavez MS by one run.
Tomorrow I will be visiting 3 7th grade science classrooms to show a 25 minute DVD about the Columbine shootings, and how bullying and harrassment can lead students to tragic measures. It is unfortunate I should even have to spend time going over this message with students--but it is real, and it is essential they are confronted with the concept of tolerance, acceptance and understanding those who are different.
Tomorrow is also Friday. Friday is a very special day . . . .
When I first left the English classroom at Cajon about 8 years ago to become a middle school counselor, I really had no idea what I was getting into. I remember the first week a 6th grade girl came into my office in tears (she was like, what, 11 years old?). I was thinking to myself her grandma must have just passed away or something. But no. "I thought I knew who my best friend was, but now I'm not really sure, because she has a different best friend". This hit me like a ton of bricks, because, like so many things I would (and continue to) encounter, I was not prepared for this in my counseling classes. So I had to "get into" the world of a 6th grader REALLY fast.
Since that first week, I can truly say that every day (unlike teaching high school English) has been different from the next. Many days are fairly non-eventful, and I am thankful for those. Because the ones that are "eventful"--they are not always pleasant. Like the year I had a 7th grade girl come in my office telling me that her mother just died from AIDS, and her father was in the hospital--with AIDS. Then later that year, she informed me that yes, her father, too, had joined her mother in death. And toward the end of last year, when an 8th grade boy attempted suicide. I found this out from a note a teacher confiscated. I called the boy in, and he nodded his head--yes, this was true, but apparently he did not take enough pills. When I was on the phone with his guardian (step-dad--mom had disappeared two years ago, and never did find out about biological dad), informing him that his stepson attempted to take his own life earlier that week, the best he could come up with was "Dammit, I am so sick and tired of that kid--he was caught with weed a couple weeks ago. I'm through with him--might as well send him back to his mom". And then a couple weeks ago a 7th grade girl was in tears on my couch because both parents have been out of work, they just sit at home drinking away their depression.
These (true) stories are often times balanced with remarkable students doing remarkable things both in and out of the classroom, or on the athletic field, etc. It is not all bad, and I am thankful that even in the desperate situations I shared above, there is often times a positive resolution, healing, etc. But often times, unfortunately, there is not.
This morning began with not one, but two teachers stopping by my office seeking assistance in filing a CPS report. I also placed a call to one of my students' parole officers. This 8th grade boy has been in juvy for about a week or so for breaking into a house to steal some video gaming equipment. I was inquiring about receiving clearance to visit him while he was locked up. I then met with a 7th grade girl and her parents who claimed a student had sexually harrassed their daughter. My day ended around 5:15 when our boys softball team lost in the championship game to Cesar Chavez MS by one run.
Tomorrow I will be visiting 3 7th grade science classrooms to show a 25 minute DVD about the Columbine shootings, and how bullying and harrassment can lead students to tragic measures. It is unfortunate I should even have to spend time going over this message with students--but it is real, and it is essential they are confronted with the concept of tolerance, acceptance and understanding those who are different.
Tomorrow is also Friday. Friday is a very special day . . . .
Friday, July 23, 2010
Cayucos
Bad news: my school district has shortened our summer vacation to 6 weeks--we go back Friday, July 30. Good news: winding down summer with some pretty cool excursions--just returned from spending a couple days with my youngest cousin Deb, husband Garth and their dog Mia in Cayucos. Next week, headed to Colorado with Andrew and his mom for regional ("zonal") tennis competition (a pretty big honor for Drew to be invited), which is being held on the grounds of the National Air Force Center in Colorado Springs.
Cayucos--at first glance, this might sound like some town one would find on the coast of Peru--but it is actually just north of Morro Bay--roughly half way up the coast between LA and SF. It is one of those small, lazy, stereotypical California beach towns full of local flavor. It is also where Debbie (a landscape architect) and Garth (an architect/builder) currently reside. A little over two years ago, they broke ground on a home on a hillside overlooking Morro Bay/Cayucos/the Pacific ocean. Three levels with huge picture windows to take in the scenery--from the living room or deck, a constant stream of activity--surfers, dive-bombing pelicans, dolphins, sailboats--just an unbelievably beautiful 180 degree view of God's creation at it's finest.
Thursday Deb took the day off and turned into tour guide. First we drove up to this look-out place where people can watch elephant seals lazing on the sand and playing in the water. Years ago there was free access down to the beach; apparently, humans (and dogs) didn't exactly respect these creatures as they should, so there is now a wooden railing between us and them. This is the season where the females were all out in the ocean hunting for food, so just the males were on display. Big, ugly creatures--but cool to watch.
Then she took me to this "town" called Harmony. Population: 18. Yup--has its own zip code/post office (which was closed), and boasts not one, but two stores: a pottery store, and a store where they have glass blowers in the back making really cool stuff they sell in the front part. There used to be other stores, but--who knows--the economy?!?
Headed back to downtown Cayucos, walked along the pier and then across the street to the Brown Butter Sea Salt Cookie shop. Opened by two sisters a couple years ago, it has become this huge success story. They are now shipping their cookies all over thru their web site, and after tasting those things, it's no surprise. Calling them "cookies" really doesn't do them justice--they cost $1 each, and come in 3 flavors: cocoa, espresso and plain. I had the plain and cocoa, and both were simply the best cookie I have ever tasted. Melt-in-your-mouth, sorta like a combination of candy/fudge/cookie dough. Go online and order some . . .take the taste test!
To round off the day we took Mia for a walk along the beach looking for sea glass. This was something new to me--Debbie explained that people collect pieces of glass that have come from old broken bottles left behind by beach goers who don't take care of their trash. Over time, the action from the tide, the sand and other natural occurrences polish these pieces, and not only do people collect them, but they also have sea glass Festivals all over the world. Deb is on the committee for the first annual Cayucos Sea Glass Festival March 5th, 2011!
Cayucos--at first glance, this might sound like some town one would find on the coast of Peru--but it is actually just north of Morro Bay--roughly half way up the coast between LA and SF. It is one of those small, lazy, stereotypical California beach towns full of local flavor. It is also where Debbie (a landscape architect) and Garth (an architect/builder) currently reside. A little over two years ago, they broke ground on a home on a hillside overlooking Morro Bay/Cayucos/the Pacific ocean. Three levels with huge picture windows to take in the scenery--from the living room or deck, a constant stream of activity--surfers, dive-bombing pelicans, dolphins, sailboats--just an unbelievably beautiful 180 degree view of God's creation at it's finest.
Thursday Deb took the day off and turned into tour guide. First we drove up to this look-out place where people can watch elephant seals lazing on the sand and playing in the water. Years ago there was free access down to the beach; apparently, humans (and dogs) didn't exactly respect these creatures as they should, so there is now a wooden railing between us and them. This is the season where the females were all out in the ocean hunting for food, so just the males were on display. Big, ugly creatures--but cool to watch.
Then she took me to this "town" called Harmony. Population: 18. Yup--has its own zip code/post office (which was closed), and boasts not one, but two stores: a pottery store, and a store where they have glass blowers in the back making really cool stuff they sell in the front part. There used to be other stores, but--who knows--the economy?!?
Headed back to downtown Cayucos, walked along the pier and then across the street to the Brown Butter Sea Salt Cookie shop. Opened by two sisters a couple years ago, it has become this huge success story. They are now shipping their cookies all over thru their web site, and after tasting those things, it's no surprise. Calling them "cookies" really doesn't do them justice--they cost $1 each, and come in 3 flavors: cocoa, espresso and plain. I had the plain and cocoa, and both were simply the best cookie I have ever tasted. Melt-in-your-mouth, sorta like a combination of candy/fudge/cookie dough. Go online and order some . . .take the taste test!
To round off the day we took Mia for a walk along the beach looking for sea glass. This was something new to me--Debbie explained that people collect pieces of glass that have come from old broken bottles left behind by beach goers who don't take care of their trash. Over time, the action from the tide, the sand and other natural occurrences polish these pieces, and not only do people collect them, but they also have sea glass Festivals all over the world. Deb is on the committee for the first annual Cayucos Sea Glass Festival March 5th, 2011!
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