We´re not going to write much now. Our trip is winding down and we´re in our last city: Barcelona, Spain, where Celeste served her mission. Spain is incredible. The Mediterranean is warm and inviting, and the weather is perfect.
We fly home on Wednesday. Check back then for a proper synopsis of the last week of our trip and many, many pictures to accompany it.
We love you all, Marta.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Europe Week 1
Well, we've only been in Europe for 4 days and we've already had plenty of adventures. Far too many adventures to share with you now on limited internet time with extreme jet-lag still plaguing us on a daily basis.
To sum it up very briefly, I almost got ran over by a car just minutes after landing in Dublin. Weirdest thing: they drive on the wrong side of the road here. Silly Europeans. We saw the Northern coast of Ireland, and yes, it is as green and beautiful as you could possibly imagine. We spent the majority of yesterday afternoon picking our jaws off the ground while we toured castles, ruins, and the greenest coast God ever made.
After 3 wonderful days in Ireland with sister Mandy and brother-in-law Bryan, we headed to London, which is where we currently are. We've only been here a day, but have already seen the Tower of London, Westminster Abbey, St. Pauls Cathedral, and the inside of a pay toilet. Pretty amazing stuff. Also, I'm constantly tempted to bust out my Irish/British/Scottish accent (it all kind of blurs into one). Dangerous, right? I'm just waiting for myself to slip up and get punched in the face by a drunk Brit bitter about England's rubbish performance at the World Cup.
Anyway, that's all for now. So much happening. So much to come. Including pictures that will make you jealous.
Cheers!
Anyway, that's all for now. So much happening. So much to come. Including pictures that will make you jealous.
Cheers!
Sunday, June 13, 2010
The Last Day of School
I wasn’t prepared for this.
All year long, I’ve been thinking (and sometimes daydreaming) about the last day of school. It seemed as though it would never come, like a carrot luring a donkey on the end of a stick. It didn’t seem to matter how many plans we made or events we scheduled for the summertime, it felt as though the school year would never actually release its kung-fu grip on our lives.
Then, very suddenly, it did.
I knew it was coming, too. For the last several weeks, I’ve been administering end-of-year tests, attending promotion/retention meetings, and cleaning out my classroom – all signs that the end was near, and that my time with these kids was quickly drawing to a close. So how did I get blindsided?
Thursday was the last day of school. Kids came in wielding yearbooks with grins plastered onto their faces. There was a generally jovial spirit about the hallways. Kids sat where they wanted to for the first time all year, and laughed and talked through much of the day. They watched a movie in one class; made ice cream in another; they played a review game in mine. All in all, it was a low-key, low-stress day for everybody.
My last class ended at 1:30. The bell rang (just as it had all year) and kids began to file out of the classrooms and into the hallway on their way to their next class (just as they had all year). At this point, the reality of the school year ending still hadn’t hit me, and I stood at my door, watching students walk (and run) away from me.
I knew something was different, however, when students started coming up to me to say goodbye. Goodbye? This was new. Some threw their arms around me, some just yelled, “See you Mr. Olsen!” as they walked by my room. As these goodbyes occurred one after another, I finally started to realize that I wouldn’t see most of these kids ever again. And while I probably would have rejoiced at this news back in September, it was June now, and part of me wasn't ready for goodbye.
Then came Antonio. He had been one of my favorite students throughout the year. He was the kind of kid that said very little, but when he did, it was worth remembering. True to form, Antonio didn't disappoint:
“It has been a pleasure to have had a teacher like you.”
He accompanied these words with a bashful grin and an outstretched hand. I shook it, and responded, “Antonio, it has been a pleasure to have had a student like you.”
With that he walked away, disappearing behind a corner down the hallway. By this point, I could feel the emotion welling up inside of me. I quickly retired to my classroom and closed the door behind me.
I started breathing heavily and staggered towards my desk in the back of the room as images of my students faces flashed in front of me. I turned off the lights so that passers-by would think I was away from my room.
Soon my heavy breathing gave way to a sustained weeping that went on for longer than I care to admit. I was a broken man at that moment, and there was nothing I could do to fend of the tidal wave of raw emotion. My body shook as I cried. I dropped to the floor and sat with my back against the wall in the back corner of my classroom. My door didn’t have a lock, which meant anyone could have walked in at any moment. I was in no mood to be seen, so I sat on the floor, hiding behind my desk, crying like a child in the lap of my mother.
Many of the tears were happy ones. I rewound many of my favorite moments of the school year and played them back in my mind. I thought about Christmas cards my kids had made me, about our field trip to Washington, DC, and about the time I came back to school after missing a day of work because of sickness to Gabrielle’s “Thank you, Jesus! Mr. Olsen’s back!”
Of course, many of the tears were born of grief. I couldn’t help but think about how many of them will never outgrow their poverty, and how even now some of them hardly have a place to call home. Some of them have already started their lifelong and life-ending careers in drugs and crime and violence, and it hurt because I wasn’t able to change that.
It took me awhile to regain my composure. I eventually did, returned to my feet and started to clean up the mess my kids left as they hurried out of my class. What a year it had been.
All year long, I’ve been thinking (and sometimes daydreaming) about the last day of school. It seemed as though it would never come, like a carrot luring a donkey on the end of a stick. It didn’t seem to matter how many plans we made or events we scheduled for the summertime, it felt as though the school year would never actually release its kung-fu grip on our lives.
Then, very suddenly, it did.
I knew it was coming, too. For the last several weeks, I’ve been administering end-of-year tests, attending promotion/retention meetings, and cleaning out my classroom – all signs that the end was near, and that my time with these kids was quickly drawing to a close. So how did I get blindsided?
Thursday was the last day of school. Kids came in wielding yearbooks with grins plastered onto their faces. There was a generally jovial spirit about the hallways. Kids sat where they wanted to for the first time all year, and laughed and talked through much of the day. They watched a movie in one class; made ice cream in another; they played a review game in mine. All in all, it was a low-key, low-stress day for everybody.
My last class ended at 1:30. The bell rang (just as it had all year) and kids began to file out of the classrooms and into the hallway on their way to their next class (just as they had all year). At this point, the reality of the school year ending still hadn’t hit me, and I stood at my door, watching students walk (and run) away from me.
I knew something was different, however, when students started coming up to me to say goodbye. Goodbye? This was new. Some threw their arms around me, some just yelled, “See you Mr. Olsen!” as they walked by my room. As these goodbyes occurred one after another, I finally started to realize that I wouldn’t see most of these kids ever again. And while I probably would have rejoiced at this news back in September, it was June now, and part of me wasn't ready for goodbye.
Then came Antonio. He had been one of my favorite students throughout the year. He was the kind of kid that said very little, but when he did, it was worth remembering. True to form, Antonio didn't disappoint:
“It has been a pleasure to have had a teacher like you.”
He accompanied these words with a bashful grin and an outstretched hand. I shook it, and responded, “Antonio, it has been a pleasure to have had a student like you.”
With that he walked away, disappearing behind a corner down the hallway. By this point, I could feel the emotion welling up inside of me. I quickly retired to my classroom and closed the door behind me.
I started breathing heavily and staggered towards my desk in the back of the room as images of my students faces flashed in front of me. I turned off the lights so that passers-by would think I was away from my room.
Soon my heavy breathing gave way to a sustained weeping that went on for longer than I care to admit. I was a broken man at that moment, and there was nothing I could do to fend of the tidal wave of raw emotion. My body shook as I cried. I dropped to the floor and sat with my back against the wall in the back corner of my classroom. My door didn’t have a lock, which meant anyone could have walked in at any moment. I was in no mood to be seen, so I sat on the floor, hiding behind my desk, crying like a child in the lap of my mother.
Many of the tears were happy ones. I rewound many of my favorite moments of the school year and played them back in my mind. I thought about Christmas cards my kids had made me, about our field trip to Washington, DC, and about the time I came back to school after missing a day of work because of sickness to Gabrielle’s “Thank you, Jesus! Mr. Olsen’s back!”
Of course, many of the tears were born of grief. I couldn’t help but think about how many of them will never outgrow their poverty, and how even now some of them hardly have a place to call home. Some of them have already started their lifelong and life-ending careers in drugs and crime and violence, and it hurt because I wasn’t able to change that.
It took me awhile to regain my composure. I eventually did, returned to my feet and started to clean up the mess my kids left as they hurried out of my class. What a year it had been.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
The Finish Line
For the record, I tried to get the "Chariots of Fire" theme song imported onto our blog. I was unsuccessful, as you can see, so please read the following post with that song in mind. You know: Dun dun-dun, dun dunnn, dun, symbol crash, etc...
It's finally here: the last week of school.
Looking back, there was a time when being at this point of the school year was unimaginable. Back in September and October, when we were battered and bruised by the day to day of teaching, we didn't even allow ourselves to think of June, for fear that its false hope and promised triumph would only depress us and further encumber our work.
It's been a tough year. There were days when I honestly had to ask myself, "What am I doing?" There were days for both of us when we were pushed to - and nearly over - the edge. We can both still remember the first time we were threatened by a student, the first time we felt unsafe at school, or those memorable moments when they call you things you wouldn't feel comfortable repeating in front of Satan himself.
Of course, it wasn't all bad. For every student I had tell me they hated me, I had 10 that told me they loved me. For every kid we had to throw out of our classrooms, we had 20 that stayed and listened and learned. It's impossible to paint a rosy, unblemished picture of our first school year as teachers, but looking back over the last 10 months, we can't help but be happy for our victories, for the success of many of our students, and for the learning experience this grand social experiment has been.
This week we reach the finish line. In August, we start the race all over again.
It's finally here: the last week of school.
Looking back, there was a time when being at this point of the school year was unimaginable. Back in September and October, when we were battered and bruised by the day to day of teaching, we didn't even allow ourselves to think of June, for fear that its false hope and promised triumph would only depress us and further encumber our work.
It's been a tough year. There were days when I honestly had to ask myself, "What am I doing?" There were days for both of us when we were pushed to - and nearly over - the edge. We can both still remember the first time we were threatened by a student, the first time we felt unsafe at school, or those memorable moments when they call you things you wouldn't feel comfortable repeating in front of Satan himself.
Of course, it wasn't all bad. For every student I had tell me they hated me, I had 10 that told me they loved me. For every kid we had to throw out of our classrooms, we had 20 that stayed and listened and learned. It's impossible to paint a rosy, unblemished picture of our first school year as teachers, but looking back over the last 10 months, we can't help but be happy for our victories, for the success of many of our students, and for the learning experience this grand social experiment has been.
This week we reach the finish line. In August, we start the race all over again.
Asheville Vacation/New camera
I thought I'd just include some pictures from our Memorial Day Weekend vacation to Asheville, NC. We just bought a brand new Canon Rebel SLR camera for our trip to Europe, and Asheville was the testing grounds for our new toy. Click on the pictures to enlarge.
The Biltmore is the largest house in America, with 200+ bedrooms, 60-something bathrooms and 4 acres under roof. It was built by the Vanderbilt family in the late 19th century.
These pictures were taken just off the Blue Ridge Parkway that runs straight through the Blue Ridge Mountains. It was refreshing to see mountains again, small as they were.
The Biltmore is the largest house in America, with 200+ bedrooms, 60-something bathrooms and 4 acres under roof. It was built by the Vanderbilt family in the late 19th century.
These pictures were taken just off the Blue Ridge Parkway that runs straight through the Blue Ridge Mountains. It was refreshing to see mountains again, small as they were.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Freeze Flame!
There is no justice.
This week in Jackson's classroom the temperature ran into the 90's. No joke, 91 degrees in a classroom while end of year testing was taking place. Kids were sweltering, stifled by the heat escaping from the vents. Windows were opened, but were of little use as the temperature outside was barely cooler than it was indoors, and heavy with humidity. Jackson has been a champ, still wearing a long sleeve shirt and tie every day even though it's been warm enough to teach in swim wear.
Over at Northern Vance, temperatures in my classroom have plummeted into the 60's. High-powered air conditioning has sent my students into a learning coma. You know, the kind of coma that forces their arms are inside of their T-shirts, huddling against their desks trying to muster any form of body heat in order to survive. I've become a layering queen, arriving to school looking like I'm ready to teach in the tundra. By looking at my wardrobe you would have no indication that the temperature outdoors is regularly in the 80's. I even keep an extra sweater at school and lend it to students as they try to stay focused on the class and not on the cold.
For those of you who know us well, the irony of this situation is cruel. I am perpetually cold, running about 10 degrees cooler than the normal human. Jackson is a human heater, radiating warmth reminiscent of the sun, or at least a distant star.
We battle our temperature demons by day and in the evening I wrap myself up in a blanket (usually a stylish snuggie given to me by my adorable mother-in-law, Norma), while Jackson stands under the air conditioner as we stabilize our temperatures and prepare to face another day.
This week in Jackson's classroom the temperature ran into the 90's. No joke, 91 degrees in a classroom while end of year testing was taking place. Kids were sweltering, stifled by the heat escaping from the vents. Windows were opened, but were of little use as the temperature outside was barely cooler than it was indoors, and heavy with humidity. Jackson has been a champ, still wearing a long sleeve shirt and tie every day even though it's been warm enough to teach in swim wear.
Over at Northern Vance, temperatures in my classroom have plummeted into the 60's. High-powered air conditioning has sent my students into a learning coma. You know, the kind of coma that forces their arms are inside of their T-shirts, huddling against their desks trying to muster any form of body heat in order to survive. I've become a layering queen, arriving to school looking like I'm ready to teach in the tundra. By looking at my wardrobe you would have no indication that the temperature outdoors is regularly in the 80's. I even keep an extra sweater at school and lend it to students as they try to stay focused on the class and not on the cold.
For those of you who know us well, the irony of this situation is cruel. I am perpetually cold, running about 10 degrees cooler than the normal human. Jackson is a human heater, radiating warmth reminiscent of the sun, or at least a distant star.
We battle our temperature demons by day and in the evening I wrap myself up in a blanket (usually a stylish snuggie given to me by my adorable mother-in-law, Norma), while Jackson stands under the air conditioner as we stabilize our temperatures and prepare to face another day.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Race to the Finish
Sorry we haven't updated our blog for a couple weeks. The world around us is abuzz with end-of-school fever, and it's making our lives busier than usual.
Tomorrow our kids will begin their end of year testing. It's basically the tests to determine whether or not they get promoted to the next grade (or in some cases, graduate). Our superiors have been talking about this week since the first day of school, emphasizing its importance to us (the teachers) and to the students at every opportunity. In a way it kind of reminds me of the tests that the kids had to take in the movie "Lean on Me" with Morgan Freeman. The state is watching very closely, and a lot is riding on these kids to pass. Sometimes I pretend that I'm in the movie "Lean on Me" and go through my workday with an awesome old school hip-hop soundtrack. Speaking of which, they ought to make a movie about Celeste and I being teachers. They could call it "Double Trouble" with a tagline like "The students of Vance County thought they could run the show. Till they met..." I'm going to talk to some people about that. I think it's magic in the making.
In other news, Celeste and I have been gearing up for some major traveling. We're going to the mountains of NC over Memorial Day weekend to do some mountain biking and to see the Biltmore Mansion (which, if you haven't seen or heard of, just take a look: http://biltmore.com/ It's incredible).
Of course, this trip will pale in comparison to our version of European Vacation, for which we depart in exactly one month from today. We're starting to finalize our plans, buy our necessary items (like cool matching fanny packs, Hawaiian shirts, straw hats, etc.), and study our history to make this trip as memorable as possible. Right now our itinerary calls for Ireland, London, Paris, and Spain. We'll see everything from Buckingham Palace to Notre Dame, and we'll do everything from float the Seine River to swim in the Mediterranean. And all this is just the cake. The icing on top is that we're still collecting paychecks through the summer - we're just not working.
Well, that about does it for this week. Check back next week for more fun stuff and an update on "Double Trouble"'s productions plans.
Cheers!
Tomorrow our kids will begin their end of year testing. It's basically the tests to determine whether or not they get promoted to the next grade (or in some cases, graduate). Our superiors have been talking about this week since the first day of school, emphasizing its importance to us (the teachers) and to the students at every opportunity. In a way it kind of reminds me of the tests that the kids had to take in the movie "Lean on Me" with Morgan Freeman. The state is watching very closely, and a lot is riding on these kids to pass. Sometimes I pretend that I'm in the movie "Lean on Me" and go through my workday with an awesome old school hip-hop soundtrack. Speaking of which, they ought to make a movie about Celeste and I being teachers. They could call it "Double Trouble" with a tagline like "The students of Vance County thought they could run the show. Till they met..." I'm going to talk to some people about that. I think it's magic in the making.
In other news, Celeste and I have been gearing up for some major traveling. We're going to the mountains of NC over Memorial Day weekend to do some mountain biking and to see the Biltmore Mansion (which, if you haven't seen or heard of, just take a look: http://biltmore.com/ It's incredible).
Of course, this trip will pale in comparison to our version of European Vacation, for which we depart in exactly one month from today. We're starting to finalize our plans, buy our necessary items (like cool matching fanny packs, Hawaiian shirts, straw hats, etc.), and study our history to make this trip as memorable as possible. Right now our itinerary calls for Ireland, London, Paris, and Spain. We'll see everything from Buckingham Palace to Notre Dame, and we'll do everything from float the Seine River to swim in the Mediterranean. And all this is just the cake. The icing on top is that we're still collecting paychecks through the summer - we're just not working.
Well, that about does it for this week. Check back next week for more fun stuff and an update on "Double Trouble"'s productions plans.
Cheers!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)