Throwback Thursdays: So...Consistency is NOT my thing, Clearly...

Folks,  I have to apologize for not updating this page in TWO MONTHS! As a result, my updates make this post appropriate for Throwback Thursdays.  

So...a quick update as I attempt to get myself together:

Tomorrow is my birthday, and my last day in Second Grade :( For those of you unaware, I worked as a teaching assistant for a local elementary school this year.  I was also supposed to be starting graduate school for elementary education, but after further research, I wasn't satisfied with the program I'd be studying under.  So...I took it as an opportunity to figure out if I really wanted to teach elementary school.  It was a good move, as I learned that, well...it ain't my thang, lol.

I love elementary school children, LOVE them! I just...cannot get with the "multi-subject teaching" it requires.  While attending a workshop on balanced literacy, I was advised to apply for a program at my alma mater.  I had no idea it existed! I applied, and well, I start my Masters in Secondary Education with a concentration in English and Special Education this coming Monday! High school, here I come!

Wanna know the topic of my statement of purpose? Feel free to check out my post on supporting and promoting literacy in your community. 

Tomorrow, in addition to it being my birthday, it is also the school's equivalent of a school fair/festival.  I'll have adventures from the dunk tank (as I promised to participate) and a night of sushi (compliments of the kids I babysit for). And of course...some kind of celebration, because who would I be if I weren't on the go? :)

PS- I've never been in a dunk tank before...I should have chosen the first shift so I wouldn't have 2 share water, LOL. ewwwww

The Avery Institute

Please excuse my amateur reporting, lol
I promise, I'll get better...

Motivated Mondays: Welcome to Low Country!

Hey folks,

You'll have to excuse me as I worked on improving this site- A LOT has happened!!

For one, I realized that writing in a blog every day is harder than I thought it would be, and that I needed to allow myself some time to plan and decide all the places I wanted to go and things I wanted to do a little better. I hope to, in the near future, to release a schedule so that you may join me on some of my adventures.

Secondly, [thanks to Expedia and Amtrak, and Student Advantage], one of my Wishlist Wednesdays posts became a reality when I arrived in Charleston, SC last night...LOWCOUNTRY! Tasty Tuesdays will be spent at Gullah Cuisine in Mt. Pleasant, SC, and Wednesday I'm going on a tour of the Gullah/Geechee islands!

A quick recap of what I was able to write on the train...

"I am less than two hours outside of Charleston, SC, my excitement on hold until I get some food in me. I refuse to go to the food cart, where “expensive” and “mediocre” collide. I mean…no disrespect…I’m sure as far as trains go, it’s top-of-the-line cuisine. I also know that if I eat it, I’m just going to be mad until I find some real food. The guy I sat next to, Keith, must have been hungry because he stayed in the food car, lol. He had been riding since 6:15 in the morning, coming from New York. That’s where he’s from, but he’s found home in North Carlina. Night and day if you ask me. He thought so too, and said that after he went to school down there, he lost his taste for living in NYC. I don’t know where I find all these cool Amtrak buddies, but I’m not complaining. Keith, do try to enjoy being home, even if the break was too short ☺

I was highly amused an hour or so ago when the attendants made us switch cars because they discovered ants. A guy stood right in the middle of the aisle as I tried to lug my suitcase behind me and into the following car. I looked at him for a minute, thinking for sure he would see me struggle and at least attempt to move over some. He wasn’t a large man. Then, I thought maybe he was looking for an invitation, so I politely said “excuse me.” He didn’t move. With people behind me, I knew I had to make some kind of executive decision around the fact that this dude was not going to make it any easier to get by him. A woman some rows down spoke up. “It’d be easier for people to get by if you’d MOVE out the way!” There was some talk, and then I heard the guy say “I know she wasn’t talking to me.” I decided that maybe he hadn’t heard me say excuse me so I said it again as I was forced to squeeze past him. Now, I’m not naïve. I’m just choosy on what I cloud my brain with. I have no space for rudeness ☺

I’m les than an hour outside of Charleston now, feeling even more blessed than when I first stepped on this train. My friend Edek reminded me of a quote from Marcus Garvey, which I think it most appropriate for this journey:

I may not come back knowing as much as I would like to about my origin, but the journey is far more important. "

When I got in last night, I ordered food, watched "Last Holiday" (which seemed so appropriate for the adverture I find myself in), and fell asleep.

I woke up this morning around 5:30 in the morning. I don't know why...I don't get up then at home...I'm on vacation...whatever, I couldn't fall back to sleep. A couple hours after watching a few episodes of "Saved By the Bell," I decided to get change from the lobby so I could get some snacks.

I went to the lobby this morning looking for change. The woman at the front couldn’t find the key to the register, but said that there was a Scotchman next door. I didn’t know what a Scotchman had to do with change...but figured it was a dude who made change. I hoped he wasn’t a drunk (hehe). Come to find out it’s not a dude at all, but a convenience store chain.

Should I have known that? Maybe...I had never seen a Scotchman before...

After talking with a friend of my Uncle's (who lives down here), it was recommended that I visit the Avery Institute, where they have tons of information regarding African American Culture, specifically in this region. While I received so much valuable information in only a couple hours, the best advice came from a Ms. Leila Potts- Campbell, who was kind enough to sit with me for a long time and go through the information I did have (which was hardly any). She told me that it was imperative that I find the plantation that my great grandfather was a slave on, a plantation named after the family that enslaved him. Mind you, this is, of course, how I acquired my last name as well.

Anyhow, tomorrow I will call my Grandfather and and Aunt to get any other information they think might help me. Then, I will go into town, where I plan to visit The Historical Society, The Slave Market Museum, and some other places that have been recommended to me. I'll finish off the night with Gullah Cuisine at a local restaurant and...Wednesday I'm going on a Gullah tour.

Words cannot express how blessed I feel to be on this trip, and how glad I am that I can share it with all of you.

Stay tuned!

Mindless Mondays: OTGGirl, the Hairstylist Polygamist

I stepped into the hair salon a couple weeks ago, my hair hungry for a deep conditioning and a new hairstyle. Most who know me know that I am notorious for changing my hair like babies change diapers.
Ok, so maybe that wasn't the best analogy.

Most women I know who frequent the beauty salon have the same philosophy: you find a good stylist and stick to him/her. The relationship that stylists share with their clients can be compared to that of [un]holy matrimony. There is an unspoken level of commitment and loyalty that most stylists come to expect from regular clients. In return, you are treated better than the average walk-in. You may spend 3 hours in the salon instead of 7. You won't be put under the dryer as often for endless, unnecessary amounts of time as your stylist fits in extra appointments. No, the stylist takes care of you, and in return, you keep coming back and abandon any other hopeful stylists/courters that linger in your past. Most women I know wouldn't DARE to let their eyes wander to the shop across the street with longer hours. Did I mention they're open on MONDAYS?!

Well, I must admit...my eyes do wander. In fact, so do my feet. I double- take hairstyle shops while driving through the city as if they're fine men I feel the need to further examine. I investigate prices, and check out do's of loyal clients. I collect business cards, and fliers with coupons . I know what shop to go to when I need a walk-in appointment. I know what hairstyle looks the same but is cheaper at what shop. I cheat on my hairstylists...

I can't help it. I'm a sucker for a good price, less waiting, and normal dryer time. And my stylists know it.

Returning to my most recent trip to the hair salon, I only received a half-smile from my stylist when I walked through that familiar door last week. I thought it was because I hadn't called ahead of time. Then, like a man who has discovered a minute too late that he has lipstick on his collar, I remembered that I was wearing the style of another stylist. BUSTED.

Unfortunately when you're caught cheating, you risk the chance of getting the shaft from your best gigs. But I cannot ignore that a hairstyle in one shop can be a monstrosity in another. Maybe, one day, I will find a stylist that fulfills my insatiablility for hairstyles. Until then, I will continue to live my life in [sin].

UNDER CONSTRUCTION

Hey folks- The site/ posts are undergoing a fierce edit!
Expect me back with lots of [more consistent] stories no later than next Monday, March 23rd!!!

Peace!

Motivated Mondays: Literacy

A boy used to sit towards the back of my history class every day in high school. A shy, thin boy, he was a kid who could have been mistaken for his own shadow. A couple months into school was the first I learned his name. My teacher paired us together for a project. We were to use our textbooks to answer some questions about a part of the unit we were learning at the time. I do not remember the topic. Before we began the assignment, my teacher took me aside and told me she had paired me with him because she wanted me to help him with looking up the information. She told me that he was functionally illiterate.

It hurt to watch as he stumbled over four and five letter words, words I could pronounce in kindergarten or first grade. It made me so angry. How many teachers had just passed him through the system? How does a kid make it to high school without being able to read?

It inspired me to do some research involving literacy in DC. What I discovered broke my heart: nearly a third of our residents are illiterate. We live in one of the most powerful cities in the world, and still we have one of the highest rates of illiteracy in the country.

This is why it is so important to support programs that promote literacy, no matter where you are. As you read this, you probably take that ability for granted. Think for minute on the simplest tasks, and how complicated they would be without the ability to read.

It is not enough to recognize your ability, but to share it with others. Maybe you volunteer at a school library, or read a book to a child in your neighborhood every now and then. Maybe you join a walk or literacy, or host your own read-a-thon. Do something.

What became the boy who sat in the back of class? He worked with an in-school specialist, learned to read, graduated from high school, and went on to college. While I cannot say that this is the average story of a boy who was failed by so many of his educators, I can say that I am glad. I'm glad he was finally surrounded by a community who said "No more. This child deserves better." I'm glad to have known him. He continues to inspire me.

Check out DC LEARNs for more on literacy in DC.

Spiritual Sundays: Divine Order

Last night after babysitting, I headed over to Bohemian Caverns to see some friends perform. To my surprise, afer searching forever for a parking space, I found out that they were at a different club altogether. I was livid at the night, that, at midnight, was supposed to be just beginning for me. Unable to reach my friend via phone, I drove home. Then, also, to my surprise, the shrine house down the street threw a Valentines Day bash that parked up my whole neighborhood. Unable to squeeze into the only space on my side of the street, I felt my nails digging into my steering wheel. It just seemed as though the universe was working against me. I hadn't asked for a Valentine. I hadn't asked for asked for a date. I just wanted to spend it with friends, hoping Maggie Moos cheesecake-flavored ice cream would somehow be involved! I love Maggie Moos...

Anyhow I was blown to the highest level of Atari. I parked up the street, took my behind in the house, and got in the bed. I had church in the morning, so I figured if anything good could come from my flop of a night [aside from the awesome kids I babysat], it would be getting a full night's sleep before the 10am service.

That morning, I wiped the sleep from my eyes, dressed for church, and drove the three blocks to church in fear that I would be late. I wasn't surprised that the church lot was full. I pulled ou and turned the corner twice before I saw a car that had found a spot for two. I pulled in front of her, and she kindly directed me as I backed into the space. We were clearly going to the same place. I greeted and thanked her as I got out of the car. We chatted for a second before the nice church lady recognized another church lady. She had been looking for this woman and was happy to see her. She said "Oh! Everything is in Divine Order this morning, because I just called you!" I don't remember much more of the conversation, as I excused myself and ran up the hill separating my car and the church. Afraid I would forget what this woman said, I repeated it over and over until I reached the doors of my church. "Everything is in divine order...everything is in divine order...everything is in divine order..." She had not said it to be profound. In fact, I imagine it was something she said often. Yet, it resonated with me this morning.

While I know that the word "divine" suggests otherwise, I do not believe that you need to be religious to believe in a divine order. It's just another way of saying "things happen for a reason," the way I see it. I recognize it as a recurring life lesson because it often takes different forms given the circumstance. The "reason" is often hidden, not to be discovered until it almost seems irrelevant. In tragedy, there doesn't seem to be a reason at all. Still, there is something to be gained from everything that happens in your life, even if it is [just] knowledge. As I choose to adopt the belief of a divine order, it seems rather silly to sweat the small things. And furthermore, I shouldn't be mad if I'm not specific and I get what I want.

As I wrote this, it seems preposterous that I had grown so mad when I had asked and expected nothing special to come of Valentines Day, and gotten it. In asking that it be like any other day, I forgot to acknowledge how special "any other day" is. I am young [and healthy], and I imagine one of my biggest flaws is calling any day ordinary if it is mine to have. Who knows why the events of our life go awry when they do. Without those events, the fabulous ones would seem less perfect. That, I believe, is divine order.

So, my day had an unexpected ending. Another day began, and I had something to write about. And that, I am thankful for.

That's it for Spiritual Sundays.

Peace.