Sweeping the Corners with Juniper Brooms

These past few weeks have been incredibly rich. I feel like I am holding a musty shoebox full of Polaroids, shuffling around through their overwhelming and jumbled hues. One here of me slowly kneading the thick floss roots of one traditional corn seedling from another; another of me tearing through Little Children and Mr. Pip in our new circle chair named the Egg. Ah! Here's one of me processing up the aisle with my blue-and-gold corsage. I'm wearing a black dress instead of robes because central office returned my package bearing them (after giving their address to my father). There's a tumult of photos from the last day of school: happy, sad, frustrated, climactic, anti-climactic. Oh! One's a closeup of the letter I read to my students. It says:

Here we are on June 1^st, 2012. This morning I spaced out in the parking lot listening to “Pay Phone.” It was totally cheesy, so I didn’t bring in the song and make you listen to it. But I did have the line – where has the time gone? Truth, I have no clue. I was reminded of a time in September where I sat in the car on a Friday morning and tried not to cry. It’s Friday, I thought to myself, only one more day until the weekend and I can totally do it.

Because yeah, like or not – or really like it -, you guys have made me cry. To be fair, I’m a crier. It’s not a big deal. A cute ad can make me tear up and both Smoke Signals and Whale Rider made me cry all FOUR times I watched them with you. Your sharp words and apathy have hurt me; your kind or insightful words have moved me more than you know.

I know I’m a teacher. My job is to encourage you, keep in school, show you things to learn. But I don’t sugarcoat, not really. Sure, I may have said, “good job” when really I meant “keep trying,” but the comments were always accurate. Same thing in class discussions. When I said, “EXACTLY,” I meant, exactly. When I say, “That’s brilliant! You’ve got potential. What a great mind and great talent!” I meant exactly those things. I meant that you can articulate and beautifully craft – like a weaving or a painting or a prayer – you can beautifully craft ideas that I wouldn’t have ever thought of, that no one else would have thought of ever. That is the grace and great beauty of being a critical thinker.

I heard a couple of seniors yesterday say, “Why would anyone ever become a teacher?” On a lot of days this year, I thought the exact same thing. What have I gotten myself into? I thought. No one cares. Of course, this couldn’t be farther from the truth. You care, I care, and together we can make something incredible. I live for your analyses of Mr. Hooper, Tom Shiftlet, Janie and Frederic and Paikea. I live for your thoughts about where birds go for school and the color of the sky, the ducks like Black Hawks and your life symbolized by a loaf of oven bread.

I treasure these gems; my memory, like a student once said regarding Walt Whitman, like the fitful flame of the bivouac.

Most of all, however, I’d like to thank you. I know you weren’t 100% every day; heck, I wasn’t 100% every day. But overwhelmingly, what I saw was a dedication to me, to school, and most importantly, to literature. So thank you.

And nurture it! This summer, take time to breathe in the air and sink your toes into the red earth. Read a book that you’ve never seen before but looks interesting. Listen to NPR. Write a story, write a poem, write a 5-page persuasive essay on something that makes you angry. Revel in your good mind and your good soul and your good self.

I will miss you. I will miss every single one of you. But it’s just a summer. Live it up! And in one way or another, I’ll see you next fall.

Cheers, and best of luck in all your endeavors!

And, as Garrison Keillor says on his Writer’s Almanac poems, “Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.”

Perhaps here too are a couple of pictures of my students applauding and a collective sigh of summer and community. To accompany, of course, some fraught pix of department head nonsense and a student or two who chooses to be a turkey even on the last day. 

Oh! Another closeup. This one's of my book log for the 2011-2012 school year. Here are the titles, at least:

Ina May's Guide to Childbirth 

Love that Dog 

Giving My Body to Science

 Big Mouth & Ugly Girl

The Poisonwood Bible

Esperanza Rising

Keeping You a Secret

My Name is Memory

 Angela's Ashes

Fahrenheit 451

The Light in the Forest

The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating

Saving CeeCee Honeycutt (GROSS!) 

Sources of Light

 Our Babies,Ourselves

Operating Instructions

Room (*****)

Red Scarf Girl

 Matched

 The Hunger Games

Best American Short Stories of 2011

Catching Fire

Mockingjay

Midwife, Monster

 Giving Birth

A Farewell to Arms

Their Eyes Were Watching God

 Feed 

Hanna's Daughters

Everything is Illuminated

Kissing Kate

Protector of the Small: First Test

Geography of the Heart

A Girl Named Zippy

The Hobbit

Luv Ya Bunches

The Scrapbook of Frankie Pratt

This is shared mostly so you, dear readers, can exhort recommendations on any of them if you so choose. The summer list has 6 titles, and I'm currently gnawing away happily at 1491 and dutifully on King Lear. The latter is for my AP conference next week, and so I'm trying to really delve into the text. My first time round, I found it (sorry! sorry!) boring. This time, I find it perplexing so far. I have yet to see why Goneril and Regan are the "bad guys." I'm also irritated that Edmund, who had such a beautiful don't-discriminate-because-I'm-illegitimate speech, has turned out to be a. . . bastard.

But back to my figurative photo box. There's another snapshot of my AP Literature kids requesting to be in my course next year and receiving their copy of Catcher in the Rye and their quest to find a good free-read book. 

And then, for last, two of my fondest images since the beginning of the summer. The first is the brightly-colored group prenatal room at the Zuni IHS Hospital. I am presenting a short workshop on labor support and we are all trying greeting breaths as a group. There's one of an expectant mom's sister, grinning with surprise at the double-hip squeeze, another of a devoted dad massaging his wife's back. Oh! And great. My figurative paparazzo did a great job with closeups. Here's the last, which is the handout (three-hole punched, notes scribbled in the margins) for the session:

LABOR SUPPORT & DOULAS

What is a Doula?

·      The word "doula" comes from the ancient Greek meaning "a woman who serves." It is now used to refer to a helper who provides continuous physical, emotional, and informational support to the mother before, during, and just after birth.

·      A doula is not a doctor or a midwife, just as she is NOT a replacement for your family or partner. She seeks to affirm the dignity and involvement of all you have chosen to attend your birth.

Models of Care.

·       Sometimes, a doula is on call with a birth center or hospital and just comes for the birth.

·       Sometimes, a doula has a more long-term schedule with an expecting mother. In that model, she usually has 1-2 prenatal visits to go over introductions and hopes, concerns and plans. She assists at the birth, often coming to the mother’s home for early labor and then transitioning to the birth center or hospital. The doula also often makes one visit one or two weeks postpartum.

All Doulas Provide Support With:

·      Relaxation:

-Visualization: centering on a physical or mental picture.

- Breathing (with the flow): yoga, down your back, greeting, full chest, butterfly, sheep’s.

- Music: do you want a birth playlist? Any songs to be sung?

- Mantras: think of phrases or prayers in Zuni or English that you can 

  repeat over and over again.

- Massage: back, shoulders, thighs, feet, hands

·      Energy Maintenance:

-Positions: Standing, squatting, kneeling, leaning, lying, swaying, with

    the Kaya stool ... see the Labor section of your notebook!

-Eating / Drinking: hydration is essential! Think of light, high-energy

     snacks to have during labor: honey sticks, soup, crackers, fruit,  

     cereal…

-       Cow noises / Opening: focus on opening your whole body. Low sounds – “cow sounds” – help open more than high-pitched ones, which can constrict.

- Resting in labor: Remember: if you and Baby are well, labor should go at YOUR pace. Follow your body’s rhythms. If you can, it’s often helpful to rest in early labor to prepare for the hard work ahead.

·      Communication:

-       With family members

-       With healthcare providers

-       Doulas never speak FOR you, but act as advocates for what YOU have expressed you want.

·      Immediate Postpartum:

-       Breastfeeding: positions, good latch-on, signs of hunger

-       Chores: cleaning, organizing, etc.

-       Pictures

-       Anything else

Remember:

It’s your body and your labor. You choose what is best for you!

This sounds appealing during labor:

My birth partner(s)	Their role

Yesterday brought a whole album of mental photographs - some carefully composed, others hurriedly shot. I, along with Emily, headed to a friend's house and helped bake 60-some loaves of oven bread for the rain dances. We fed the fire in the hornos and watched the creation of the juniper brooms (long poles with bunches of juniper branches trimmed and bound to the pole with nylons. "Careful, Ladies," one woman said as we untied the nylons. "Don't put a run in those. We use them for graduation." and we all laughed). We ate and ate and ate and then grabbed the apple-bobbing-size-buckets of dough. We kneaded, our rounds and loaves sadly bumpy and wrinkled compared the shining beauty of the other ladies'. As soon as we had laid them all on the boards, it was time to knead them again, and this time fold and cut them into their shapes. Roses, rabbits, mesas, mountains, twin peaks rose from the dough. Then, they swept the ash from the ovens with their juniper brooms, their clay sides still radiating an air-rippling heat. We were quiet, except for the hiss of the wet juniper fronds cleaning the oven's brown floor and the shovel of charcoal into the metal barrels. They were "tested" for their heat (a mysterious process involving handfuls of tossed flour) and then we were put to work hauling the boards of bread to the ovens. In they went, with large paddles resembling 10' pizza paddles. Midway through, they were rotated. Then, the air a riot of juniper and smoke and fresh bread, Audrey paddled them back out into their buckets. We lay them on blankets on the floor and took one loaf, saying it was clearly "going to break soon any way." We grinned and placed the fresh bread, still steaming, in our mouths.

Emily and I headed home after watching the Zuni pilgrims return, feeding the ancestors, and watching the welcoming ceremony in the plaza. The rest of the women returned to feed their pilgrim a meal and begin to prepare the stew. The stew, and some of the bread, will be brought to the Halona Idiwanna today. The women, dressed traditionally, will bear the vessels on their heads.

Anyone who doubts traditional "women's" roles as less important or less sacred has clearly never baked oven bread.

***

Enough, enough. The lid goes back on the shoe box. But now, I'm ready to take some more summer snapshots! Onto the garden, onto Albuquerque.

Happy summer.

Over and out ~

Luv Ya Bunches!

The following is a review I wrote up for Lauren Myracle's book, Luv Ya Bunches. It's part of a series entitled "Where Are the Gay Parents in YA?" hosted on http://krisasselin.blogspot.com/. Look there for more info and some excellent books in the field! 

From Lauren Myracle regarding her first installment of the "Flower Power" series:

“A child having same-sex parents is not offensive, in my mind, and shouldn’t be ‘cleaned up.’… Over 200,000 kids in America are raised by same-sex parents, just like Milla. It’s not an issue to clean up or hide away… In my opinion, it’s not an ‘issue’ at all. The issue, as I see it, is that kids benefit hugely from seeing themselves reflected positively in the books they read. It’s an extremely empowering and validating experience.”

After trolling through the internet, searching for a good YA book with gay parents, this quote struck me. In October of 2009, Scholastic threatened to ban her tween novel, Luv Ya Bunches, from its book fairs. Its complaints? Language (instances of "geez," "crap," and "[oh my] God"). . . and Camilla's parents. Camilla, one of the four protagonists, has two moms, Mom Abigail and Mom Joyce. So, I sought to find out just what kind of objectionable portrayal Myracle had wrought in this novel.

When the book arrived at the Post Office in a package from Amazon - (unrelated, but) along with The Scrapbook of Frankie Pratt and Marisol - my jaw dropped. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but 335 pages of flower power was not it.

"Oh, Gosh," I thought to myself (lest Scholastic censor this review for language). I was willing to commit to 150 pages of goofy tween drama, but 300+? Ay. All the same, I curled up on the sofa and opened to the first orange, swirly-curly flowery page. Some four hours later, I turned to the last orange, swirly-curly flowery page. As is Myracle's trademark, the writing not so much compels as gale-force-wind whirls you through it. Much of the novel is IM, or takes place on the "Flower Box" chat platform that Yasaman, one of the four, creates. This internet narrative, as well as the school scenes, were initially baffling to me. 

I teach high school English on a Pueblo reservation in New Mexico; my housemate teaches fifth grade. Though many of our students are avid texters, the virtual reality seemed utterly alien to reservation life. The privilege - Katie-Rose with her new yellow camera, the liberty of classroom instruction with the Potato Olympics, all four girls with their bedroom PCs - was odd and read as unrealistic. All the same, I kept reading. And despite the trite facade of these girls' lives, I found there were very real issues at work.

The best quality of the book, however, was that these real-world problems NEVER demand whole-hearted attention. To a critic, this could be criticized as trivializing these themes. I think, however, Myracle does a lovely job of normalizing. In fact, this is normalization at its best. As her above quote reflects, she is clearly seeking to empower her readers. Instead of puffs from publishers or professional reviewers, she has quotes posted on her website from tween readers. 

A look at the four flower girls:

Yasaman comes from a very traditional Turkish family. She wears a hijab and fears her kindergarten-age sister Nigar will be teased. At the same time, Yasaman is a computer whiz and has designed the very cool BlahBlahSomethingSomething.com. Never fear, as the fabulous four come together, it is renamed luvyabunches.com. (check it out!)

Katie-Rose is half Chinese, half Anglo. She is the videoing whiz, has a quick quirky wit, and is widely regarded as an eccentric nerd. 

Violet is the African American new girl. Her family moved to California so they could be close to her mother, who is in a mental institution. 

And Camilla, who at the beginning of the novel is wildly popular, but can't decide whether she likes her queen bee compadres. She also has two moms.

With a cast like this, the text could easily be bogged down by the melodrama and hurt of prejudice based on: race, ethnicity, religion, sexuality, and mental illness. But for these girls, while their differences aren't ignored, the main conflict is finding Camilla's Tally the Turtle and thwarting the mean queen bee Modessa. Myracle chooses, rather than having her protagonists struggle against larger issues of homophobia or racism, affirm acceptance by having their differences lead to a far stronger result. Separate, they are all lorded over by Modessa and Quin. Together, they are - at least by 5th-grade standards - UNSTOPPABLE.

As you can see, this book is a highly offensive piece of smut. 

A closer look on how artfully Myracle handles Camilla's two mothers. Mostly, the references are a kid's to a parent. Mom will pick her up, give her advice in the car, Mom Abigail and Mom Joyce gave her her beloved Guatemalan bobble-head wooden turtle, Tally. Her friends ask casually about her moms in the some way someone would ask a question of any parents. 

There are only two instances of the book where Milla reflects on her lesbian moms. The first is on page 55, when Milla is experiencing inner turmoil about her summer friendship with Katie-Rose (the "weirdo") and her school identity as a Mean Girl. She thinks, "Sometimes Milla feels different from the other girls at school because of having two moms. Sometimes MIlla feels different from her two moms because of being. . . well, just a plain old normal girl, the sort who would rather be the same as everyone else than different." The first sentence is one of occasional alienation, but the next idea is admiration of her mothers. Here are strong women who aren't afraid to be themselves!

The second is on page 255 when Milla and Mom Joyce are driving to school in her convertible:

"Getting caught in rainstorms and having to put the top up are two of the many reasons Mom Abigail teases Mom Joyce about owning a convertible. Mom Joyce counters that Mom Abigail is a soccer mom in her bright red minivan, which isn't true, because Milla doesn't play soccer. She takes dance. 

But Mom Abigail says pff to mom Joyce's soccer mom comments, reminding Mom Joyce that a minivan is exactly what she needs for her catering business. 'Anyway, I love my bright red minivan,' Mom Abigail says breezily. 'It reminds me of cherries.' 

Her moms are so different - and yet they fit together perfectly.

Just like people can be different and still be friends, Milla thinks. They can be different and still. . . click."

Luv Ya Bunches is not a Newberry Honor Book. It does not transcend issues or shift paradigms in artful prose. What it does, however, is capture beautifully the nature of what friendship and love should look like in America today. It's a fast, easy read that has aesthetic and narrative appeal to kids both younger and older than our fictional heroines. For girls (and boys, given context) struggling with difference, it's ideal. It is a book that teaches us to not make assumptions (about a person or the caliber of a book by its cover). It also teaches us, through Milla's moms, that differences make us stronger. 

What a Week!

It's a sunny day in Zuni land!


To be fair, 95% of the time it is a sunny day in Zuni land. It seems the earth is finally catching up with the skies, for it feels like summer: a street ball tournament at the nearby playground, our little garden growing, the breeze in the 70s, and even a handful of little leggy yellow flowers peering upwards towards our living room window.


I have two weeks left of the school year, which seem as unbelievable as the fact that I still have 9 days left to teach. It's May NINETEENTH, which seems impossibly late in the year. It's hard to figure out what seems more surreal - the fact that a year ago last Wednesday, I was spraying champagne at my fellow class of 2011, dancing on tables and living, for the afternoon, carefree . . . or the fact that last Wednesday, I was celebrating Native American Day at my school, speaking broken Zuni and watching my students perform the deer dance and living, for the day, carefree.


Another bit of cognitive dissonance came with our periodic CC alumni newsletter:

Of course, it's not the CC garden today. . . it's the CC garden almost 2 years ago. I'd like to defend my (anonymous) position in the newsletter, however, to say that if they saw our backyard, they wouldn't be too disappointed: a chicken run for which I dug the posts and strung up the wire, a chicken coop crafted from a dog house, cabbage, peppers, tomatoes (numbering 27 plants total) each planted in their separate waffle plot, a 3-sisters garden in potentia, and the beginnings of a raised bed for potatoes.

But enough about plants.

To the week: 

First off, I had NWEA testing MT-TF this week, so it was the after school schedule largely that was so demanding.

MONDAY: I presented at the School Board Meeting to try to get a drama class / 2 productions approved for the coming year. I was petrified; people make the false assumption that because my major was in the performing arts, and since I corral 100-some kids every day, I would be not nervous in situations like this. Incorrect! That being said, I do believe my presentation went well. I don't remember much, other than that I went into "I-Love-Theatre Dreamland." I remember twining my fingers together and speaking of the cultural relevance and richness to theatre. The board was thrilled, I am happy to report. When I was defining dramaturgy (the course is a semester survey in history, performance, and technical theatre), I used for example a production concept of doing Our Town in 19th century Zuni. They grew agog and smiling at this, trying to find ways to get me funding and help with the course. It was unanimously approved! As was my colleague's forensics course. 

All this, I may add, after the chair of my department opened the school board meeting by not-so-subtly telling the board to NOT approve our courses. She cited finances and the irrelevance of it. Too bad it's cost-neutral and wildly relevant. Needless to say, a big battle this week has been trying to be kind to her.

TUESDAY: Two words: Sports Banquet. Again, fighting the odds, we had another successful evening. They put me at the end of the coach's long table, so I sat next to no one and across from the Ranch dress - no matter! They forgot to print my non-lettering girls' certificates - no matter, I'll take the time for supper to print my own. They put the wrong girl's name on my Most Spirited award - oh, geez, I guess I'll just make a joke to poor L.L. and get it fixed tomorrow. But on the bright side, I made the crowd laugh pretty uproariously when I retold my story of becoming the cheer coach. (". . . and they said, 'Will you please be our cheer coach? and I said, '. . . sure?'") 6-9pm. But there were cheese enchiladas!

WEDNESDAY: As I've mentioned, my Native American Day was a blast. Instead of showcasing my fearsome sunburn, I'll show this:

1-3 periods were my ever-popular Nature walks. I began first with a little blurb about my culture - a tough enough job, in my entitled culture of power / Western European mutts, which I communicated to them. I did, however, wear my mother's feedsack dress that my grandmother had made for her at the end of the 1950s. 1. I look more than a little cute in it and 2. I could say, "it represents a culture that wasted as little as possible and had a deep connection to the earth." These values, I know transfer through to this culture. . . generally, it was a lovely segue into nature + book talk: "in my family's culture, the two most precious things you can give someone are an appreciation for nature and appreciation for the written word as a means to understand and change art and the world."

Then, I gave them the middle handout. I bet you have NEVER handed out a similar sheet. On it, painstakingly searched in a dictionary and run by my savant student En.T., are a list of local plants and critters in Zuni. I set them loose - suffice it to say, by the end of third hour, I knew more of the words than a good deal of the students. My thrilling COMPLETE sentence I can say in Zuni: Ho' k'ets'iłdo t'sana u:lakkya. (I saw a small cricket.)

5th hour we met up with Iralu's class and traipsed to the Eagle Sanctuary. Yes, we have an Eagle Sanctuary full of golden & bald eagles within walking distance. Don't you? The speaker was obsessed with us knowing every facet of these birds - including the coloration of the pinion feathers of the juvenile birds - but was quite knowledgable. Standing in the sweltering in my off-the-shoulders dress (reader, here is where the sunburn enters), I would've preferred more time actually studying the birds. All the same, it's a really cool project - the Zuni traditionally practiced eagle husbandry, and so they're bringing that back with non-releasable birds given to them from the US Department of Fish and Wildlife (as opposed to euthanasia). The rest of the day was watching our students, in full regalia, doing their social dance performances and presenting the Zuni Native Ambassadors for the following school year. If you're interested in what the dance clothing looked like, these aren't my students (obviously), but the costumes are the same: (buffalo dance) https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfEXFVm_y8_2JYH8fCVFQS4SPITxznjy3o3ErMJRiwrFeoYfgCztyPJSAMWTnUeRMAEr-oRBxxMHCaNlVn5lgzAYu-4DooWp3BJBzatMU9UDLHTx7MNSyzPZNoIWSkLcLmkNtbG7ChTIU/s1600/IMG_9686.JPG and (deer dance) http://blankinship-web.com/intertribal/Zuni_Deer_Dance_017.jpg.

When the bell rang for the end of the day, they all processed down the hall, the deer dancers moving their heads in the uncanny way of seeming actually animal. In their wake were the drummers and proud parents. I took a picture with my cellphone. If it hadn't been so blurry, I think I would've sent it to a few friends with the message: "how we end every school day in Zuni Pueblo."

THURSDAY: I judged 8 5th-grade portfolios. Enough said. It was delightful! AND we got fed chips + delicious salsa and a GIANT bowl of guacamole. YUM. Of the presentations, most were alternately sweet, impressive, fidgety, moving, and adorable. I got home, again, about 9pm. I sat on the porch steps in the dark, processing that sweet early summer air.

I've already been writing more than I've intended to, so I'll leave off fairly soon. But first, the mandatory book update:

I finished Geography of the Heart. It was my birthday gift from Ms. Lyl, and it was exactly the moving portrait of love and loss I hoped it would be. For a great blurb from NPR: http://www.npr.org/2012/03/29/146866399/love-isnt-all-you-need-3-relationship-building-reads. I'm plowing through The (delightful) Hobbit, which my sophomores are ACTUALLY reading and ACTUALLY enjoying. Some fun monomyth / archetype study about heroes! And, as of today (and on the recommendation of my Indiana Read judge father), I'm more than halfway through A Girl Named Zippy. Talk about a delight of reflection, pith, and general Hoosier affection! I heartily recommend it for anyone in need of a laugh, a think, or a reconsideration of small-town, Midwest life. Ina May's Spiritual Midwifery continues to be a nice bedtime read.

On that note, both the prenatal group moderating doctors at the Zuni Hospital are thrilled at the prospect of having a doula  attend / help out / etc. Alllllllll right!

And, to wrap up this monolith of a week, another "you know you live in Zuni when:"

You pet sit for three periods when a student / cheerleader brings you a kitten she found abandoned that morning. Some cute pix to thank you for reading this far:

Over and out ~

Commitment

Today, while my students were watching part of the (odious) 1932 version of A Farewell to Arms, I looked around at my 7th hour. They were watching intently, some annotating their Venn diagram of novel vs. film. One student was fighting sleep, until Catherine whopped Frederic across the face and everyone laughed at the overblown sound effects. I was then reminded of a quote from someone while I was visiting up in Colorado Springs for spring break. I was telling her (I think it was a her?) about TFA, and she said, "Oh, it's two years?"

I replied, "Yeah. It's two years - but you can stay longer if you want to."

"Wow," she said, "That's a big commitment."

Geez, it is. I am realizing it more and more. Far more than a big commitment to myself, it is such a commitment to a region, to a kid, to a people. But, looking at them, who wouldn't try to give them your absolute best? Your absolute, absolute best?

 Lest you think I am going soft in the head or being undone by sap:

* Today I said, "you are wasting time with your talking of stupidity!"

* Today I said, "ew. stop playing ear footsie or whatever the heck that is."

* Today I put the following picture on their vocab powerpoint:

(it was the perfect example of decoy! to be fair, I did say: "you objectify women, this is what happens!")
* Today we just named our toaster Tea Cake, due to his endearing, yet occasionally histrionic (read: hydrophobic) behavior

Okay, phew! Now I feel entitled to enjoy a little more sweetness and light.

First, I got to see some of my cheer girls after school. I have to do uniform inventory and was having them vote for Team Awards. It was delightful to see them as an excited, enthusiastic group. I heard several "I miss cheerleading!"s and I was glad to feel a similar sentiment. I am happy to coach again next year, but I had been dreading the time commitment. Again, I realize this is a commitment I am bound and happy to make.

Journalism was an excited mess. Let the record show that for the final issue, my kids wanted to write two articles (as opposed to one). I said, "How will we make this work?" And one of my editors said, "We should make a mega big 16-pager." The class cheered.

Finally, Ninja Doula is back again! One of my students is out on maternity leave, and the paper came requesting the work for her "homebound status." I had thought about this before, and so, instead of trying to paraphrase the lessons we are doing in class, I took the same objectives (writing to invoke emotion and crafting a research paper) and applied them differently. Here is the cover letter:

Hello, A____!

I hope you are having the most beautiful time with little Ryan Alexander. J

I know your first priority is on your little one, so my makeup work is focused on the same topic.

The two things I would like you to do:

·       I would like you to keep a journal of your baby’s first days. First, write an account of the birth: what you remember, what you’d like to share with Ryan when he’s old enough. Write a little every day: how are you feeling, what new things have you noticed / is he doing, what are your thoughts about being a mother or being you or whatever? Ideally, you’ll continue this journal the whole first year – or beyond! J (I will only check this off. It is, of course, yours to keep.)

·       Read the attached articles. They are from Peaceful Parenting websites, which promotes gentle mothering and disagrees with some popular ideas in our culture. After reading all of them, write a reflection paper on what you liked and / or disliked and / or have more questions about. Make sure to address: What is the birth culture in the US / Zuni? Also, how do you feel about self-soothing, breastfeeding, co-sleeping, and even babywearing?

Let me know if you have any questions, comments, concerns: 765-376-5786.

Come back to school when you are ready. You’re embarking on a big, lifelong journey, so make sure you have your foundation when you return. We miss you in class! J

Sincerely,

Ms. H.

Attached, then, was a 9-page packet of the benefits (including, of course, copious amounts from Meredith Small's Our Babies, Ourselves) of these different practices. 

This reminds me of a paper I've written recently in my Issues in Secondary Ed class. Right. Am I allowed to say I have been SWAMPED from my three classes at UNM this semester? It's been manageable, but really only barely. Anywho, sometimes I'm allowed to really explore my passions with teaching. First, it was a 10-pager on the benefits of theatre in the ELA classroom (entitled "Those Glee Kids Must Be On To Something") and now "Hush Little Baby: an inquiry into student mothers and an educator's dearth of resources." Largely, I wrote about exactly that - how there are myriad pregnancy prevention programs (as there should be!), but very little prescriptive guidance for teenage mothers. This is an excerpt from the paper:

What I want to do – and have talked to the school nurse and need to start talking to my moms about – is get them to start an advocacy group for young parents at Zuni High School. I know they are frustrated and tired so much of the time, and I think it may take an organized effort on their behalf to secure the rights they are properly deserving of under Title 9. They should fight for a longer maternity leave, alternative schedules, and, most of all, recognition by the faculty. Schoolwide policy should guarantee these students such accomodations (not modifications). I feel too often the attitude is “it’s their problem and their responsibility.” It’s funny that in one sentence, such educators can denigrate their students as “children” and then, apparently, “responsible” adults. Young parents are forced to straddle a strange, liminal space between childhood and adulthood.

            How I can begin, then, is by renewing my commitment to my mothers (and fathers). Some mothers are on top of their game, but most I find highly capable writers (above average) but highly overwhelmed. It will do them no good to pity her and drop assignments / grade too easily just as it does no good to treat her as a student with the average number of commitments. I need to make sure I’m helping them figure out a time to do schoolwork, timelines for turning work in late (planned before a  large assignment is due), or alternative projects if need be. I want to make sure, especially in Native communities where young motherhood is so prevalent (and not necessarily unusual), that those students have the resources and rights they should.

There it is again, that powerful word.
Yes, it seems I'm committed.

Ninja Doula!

. . . I'm not so sure what Rush Limbaugh would make of me. I'm hoping for "scarlet woman" because "slut" is so last week. We were comparing HD's "Pear Tree" and the symbol of Janie's nascent sexuality in Their Eyes Were Watching God, Sir, nothing funny about women's rights. Off to the right is a diagram of a Greek theatre for my 5th block class; let's talk about society-ordained condemnation of women!


But, seriously, hello! I'm sorry for my poor writerly habits; I suppose I'm going to play the I'm-a-first-year-teacher-with-3-UNM-classes-and-just-finished-coaching card. I've been journaling better the past week or so, and I'm glad Res to Rez followed suit.  It's a Friday, and Checkers and I look roughly like this:

It's more than impossible to summarize two months of teaching and craziness and such, so I'll just provide a snapshot or two.

FIRST, my literary snapshot. Yesterday I finished Feed, the devastating technocratic dystopia by MT Anderson. Well written? Yes. Enjoyable? No. Anderson captures the voice of a "null bro" at the end of the 21st century, and very likely the end of the world. The YA novel hits a little too close to home (especially having read about the "Google glasses" and the new iDoodad in the past week); the America of the future is one where the majority of Americans have chips implanted in their brains that broadcasts their "feed," or personalized internet stream. Think of it as Star Girl meets Fahrenheit 451 meets The Oresteia. The setting is Bradburyian, the characters / symbolism is Aeschylus, and Star Girl is Cassandra. Dang it!

For an even more riveting read that's less like a proverbial curb stomp? The Hunger Games. Yes, what they said is true. They are well written, the premise is disturbing and beautifully-imagined, yet the Romantic aesthetic of nature and pure emotion still has a prominent role (it is obliterated in Feed). Let's just say my grading, sleep, teaching, coaching, homework, and social skills suffered the 5 days in which it took me to read the trilogy. They come STRONGLY recommended.

My current baby reading is Ina May's Spiritual Midwifery. Classic, groovy, and great! I'm enjoying the birthing stories, rife with rushes and smooches and spiritual highs, but especially look forward to the advice for parents and midwives section. However, I came across two other FABirth reads, and where else but in the biblio-Mecca of Gallup Goodwill? (The best part of the past sentence is that I'm completely serious) The first is simply called Midwife by Jennifer Worth; it is a memoir about her experiences as a midwife with the House of Nonnatus (yes, midwife nuns) in the impoverished East End of London in the 1950s. Compellingly written, but the stories are the true incredible portion. It pushes no agenda, but makes a strong gentle birth message just by recounting her history. I also just finished Catherine Taylor's Giving Birth. Also great! It was made sweller by taking place in New Mexico, where Taylor herself lives. She very meticulously wove together field experience, her own doula training, research, and her own second pregnancy. It's a very satisfying read that tracks her own dawning self awareness as a powerful being in agency of her own body.

SECOND, my cheerleading snapshot? My girls' season wrapped up beautifully, and all had a lovely time at our supper at Chu-Chu's. They also produced this for homecoming: http://youtu.be/16SWObNNw-c . Yes, I know they're wonderful.

THIRD, my UNM snapshot. Cor. Overwhelmed. I got a bit behind when I missed a couple of classes for cheerleading and coaching / judging at the State Speech and Debate meet in Santa Fe two weeks ago (that's a whole story within itself), so I have 9 assignments for ONE of my classes. 2 assignments for another, and 2 for the third. Um, ridiculous? Qué sí.

***

But my true reason for writing - the namesake of my article - is this:

First, OMG am I cute or what?? Kidding, but I was thrilled about my outfits this past week. Last weekend I pulled out all the stops for my Ms. L - we're talking blue-corn crepes filled with ricotta & wild rice and topped with peach salsa, an appetizer of a butternut bisque, and manjar brownies for dessert here  - and I shaved my legs to top off the Beyonce look. (If you're confused, look up "Jay-Z & Beyonce's Baby" on SNL. Emily played "White Butler") So, for the first time since probably September, I could wear knee-length skirts without fear of more dyke accusations!

Ahem, ANYWAY - you can't see clearly in the picture, but I am holding up Ina May's Guide to Chilbirth, Penny Simpkin's The Birth Partner, my binder from my DONA conference, and Gentle Birth by Barbara Walters. This is because I was a NINJA DOULA! My 2nd and 3rd periods of English 11 had just finished Hemingway's A Farewell to Arms. Beautiful book? Yes. Troubling in terms of its portrayal of pregnancy? YES. 

A bit of background: When I was in high school, I was terrified of pregnancy and birth. I was convinced I would die in childbirth. By no fault of my family, I had been inundated by scary birth stories; A Farewell to Arms did nothing to assuage it. In fact, it worsened significantly. 

What IS the deal about the mother-dead-in-childbirth trope?? From "Cinderella" to "Whale Rider" it floods our collective unconscious. I know it's symbolic, but come on!

So I was determined - especially for the sake of my students who are moms (9) or currently pregnant (6 that I know of) - to make meaning and de-mystify Catherine's death. 

On Monday, then, we worked with the symbolic reasons for why she "had" to die. We traced the foreshadowing and looked at Frederic / Hemingway's life philosophy.

Tuesday, however, was my day. I made five groupings of the desks and called them "Birth Centers." (and then laughed about it heartily) Each had a theme: hemorrhage prevention, family present during labor, eating / drinking during labor, beneficial birthing positions, and dangers of cesarean sections. They had 7 minutes at each section to read the handout and take notes on the key points. At the end of the hour, then, they wrote up a paragraph on "Why did Catherine die? What could've been done better?" A lot of the guys cracked up about the nipple stimulation and turned in half-serious notes, but some were real gems! I must admit it was exceedingly edifying to read this one:

"Cat died because she bled too much after birth. If there was somebody there to comfort her, her delivery would have gone more comforting and more smoothly. If she had tried different positions and ate or drank during so that she would have more energy. After the delivery, she should have rubbed her lower abdomen by herself or had a midwife do it to her so it would have closed faster. This is also known as fundal massage. I still say it would have been better if someone was also in there comforting her."

Ninja doula!

Seeing that 5th block (my sophomores in their drama units) were working on their Conceptualization projects for Antigone and my 6th and 7th block juniors were doing a "moving blue book" (three questions, one at each clump of desks) about Their Eyes Were Watching God, it was a pretty good day.

Wednesday too, since it was my self-proclaimed "Why We Love Literacy Day" with a book share, statistics on the value of independent reading, and a quote discussion - it too was swell. Ender's Game, Atonement, and Dante's Inferno were snatched up by the end of the day. Other excellent finds? Never Let Me Go, The Bean Trees, Animal Dreams, Silent Night, The Mists of Avalon, StarGirl, The Red Tent, Notes From a Small Island, and 10 more. Yes, the GoodWill workers have begun to notice me and give me discounts. 

To give you an idea of the average haul, I made a list of the books I got from my previous trip (February 12):

To Kill a Mockingbird (Harper Lee)

The Reader (Bernard Schlink)

Persuasion (Jane Austen)

All Quiet on the Western Front (Erik Maria Remarque)

Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (James Joyce)

One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich (Alexander Solzhenitsyn)

The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold)

Thurber Carnival (James Thurber)

A Great and Terrible Beauty (Libba Bray)

A Yellow Raft in Blue Water (Michael Dorris)

Izzy, Willy-Nilly (Cynthia Voigt)

Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (Ann Brashares)

Watership Down (Richard Adams)

Candide (Voltaire)

The Cloudy Patriot (Sarah Vowell)

The Dark Wind (Tony Hillerman)

"A Raisin in the Sun" (Lorraine Hansberry)

The Time Traveler's Wife (Audrey Niffenegger)

Bridget Jones's Diary (Helen Fielding)

The Van (Roddy Doyle)

Something Wicked This Way Comes (Ray Bradbury)

Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (Stieg Larsson)

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time (Mark Haddon)

In the Lake of the Woods (Tim O'Brien)

The City of Falling Angels (Berendt)

And that is that.

It's approaching 10, so I should hop off to write / read / perhaps watch Away We Go or Casa de los Babys. Tomorrow I have to wake early so I can knock off some of those wretched UNM assignments before the rest of the day is dedicated to celebrating old St. Pat! 

Yours in literacy, education, and empowered birth.

Over and out ~