I got up extra early on Tuesday morning in order to get to school and knock out some work that had magically collected . As I drove along, watching out for the fools in the morning traffic, I listened to the latest details of the attack during the Boston Marathon. The reporter had just read a description about the bomb when I ran over something that made a loud metallic scraping. Since I was in the left lane, I put my hazard lights on and entered the turning lane. I saw the that the driver’s back tire had a flat.
I didn’t inspect any further, but instead I popped the hatchback and started digging out the spare tire along with the tools to change the flat. As I was bent over, I heard a car pull up behind me. Without even turning around, I knew that the cavalry had arrived to help me change the flat. The guy, Carlos, took off the hubcap and reminded me that I needed to get the bolt key in order to remove the tire. He then asked me had I seen what had caused my flat. I told him no.
I could not believe my eyes. The scrap metal, which was more than likely from a recent car accident, looked just like an ax sticking out of my tire. This after hearing about the bomb and shrapnel from the Boston Marathon attack. As Carlos continued to change the tire, I texted my boss to let her know what had happened. Then it dawned on me…I’d still be on time for work! So much for coming in early.
After changing my tire, Carlos asked me if I was a personal trainer. I told him that I was a HS Physics teacher, but I did train capoeira. I handed him one of my Tribe of One T-shirts as a thank you gesture for helping me change the tire. He accepted the T-shirt and said that it was his pleasure to help me out. He also added that the black and brown don’t mess around, meaning that we have to do whatever we can in order to get ahead in this world.
As I drove away, I thought about his question about me being a personal trainer. I was wearing capri pants at the time and so I imagined the visual of me bent over getting out the spare. Once again, having a well-toned “Brazilian butt” pays off!
Once again, the wonderful city of Austin has not let me down! I signed up to volunteer for an annual art show as a “floater,” which I prayed would not find me in the blazing Southern sun carrying a bunch of heavy shit. I got so lucky. The volunteer ahead of me was placed in the kids’ corner, which would’ve been the second worse fate and I was immediately recruited to work one of the ticket booths.
I didn’t realize that the art fest shut down at 6pm, which was when my three-hour shift was supposed to end. Plus, my street parking would expire at exactly 6:01; so I already knew that I would have to leave my shift a few minutes later or face yet another infamous parking ticket. Again, my luck held.
I spent the majority of my shift greeting people, taking their money, stamping the back of their hands and talking to an interesting guy who worked for the organization that ran the festival. I worked a little over an hour when he suggested that I should walk around the festival since the ticket lines had died down.
Although I had an hour and a half to peruse everything, the only thing I was truly interested in was getting some jewelry. Once I looked at all the real jewelry, I ended up buying some costume jewelry that was within my budget, but still a little pricey for what it was. Nonetheless, I needed a little “Spring Cleaning” bling to go with my attire for today’s Austin Writers Roulette.
As a matter of fact, I made sure to tell my ticket booth companion and the woman who I bought jewelry from about the upcoming roulette and gave them a flyer. If nothing else, I’m now on another volunteer list in order to rub elbows with artists, attend their events for free and perhaps expand my fan base.
This is definitely the grassroots promotions that I need more of!
One thing I love about Austin is that there’s seemingly a festival or three every week. This past Saturday, I actually caught one, which caters to marching bands. Although there were many local marching bands, some came as far away as Louisiana. I’d signed up to volunteer for four hours, explaining to people about local farmers markets around town, gardening classes, community gardening opportunities, cooking and nutrition classes and kids programs.
Just behind me was one of the locations where marching bands would entertain the crowds, including me. As well placed as my table was, most people just viewed it as an obstacle to go around to get closer to the performers. At least I had a great view of the fun-dressed crowd. In between chatting with my fellow volunteer and reading culinary trivia, I actually talked with inquiring minds about food sustainability and nutrition.
Apparently, this was the third year for the marching band festival, but the first time I’d ever heard of it was through my volunteering network. And what a perfectly warm, sunny day to hang out, listen to good music, meet new people and see some friends.
Originally, I’d looked forward to the volunteer after party, but realized after my shift was over that there was a good two-hour window between when my shift ended and that party began. I was already starving; so I went to the nearby TexMex restaurant and sat at the bar, avoiding a wait list and getting a 10% discount. With that little task taken care of, I walked over to the parking lot where the last band of the night were playing. Even after their last song and an encore with some other musicians joining in, the crowd was still hyped and ready for more.
Nonetheless, the musicians took a break and I walked with them into the theatre that was set up for the “after party.” Although I had volunteered and I knew two people there, I felt like a gate crasher. They had been snacking away on some potluck food and the energy was present, but exclusive. Most of those people had been together and partying since Friday; so they mingled and broke off into groups and I felt more like an outsider. I would have had to make more of an effort to introduce myself than normal. With my luck, the people I would have talked to would not have lived in Austin anyway.
If some musicians would have returned to the parking lot after 30 minutes or so, I would have stayed and enjoyed the jam session, but there was too much down time for my blood. I always joke about being middle aged, but I never felt so middle aged as when returned home and to read rather than mingling and waiting for the music to start up again!
On Saturday, February 23rd, I woke up much earlier than I intended to because of my excitement to march in the Save Texas Schools event. So much of what makes teaching my high school science students a challenge occurs in the Capitol. Although there a multitude of issues surrounding public education, what I looked forward to was marching to put an end to the newest, punitive high-stakes test, the STAAR and to demand that the $5.4 billion dollars that was cut from education be reinstated–with interest!
I arrived at the Austin-Statesman entrance on S. Congress about an hour early and there were already a throng of energetic people chanting, networking, and passing out colored circular stickers in order to get an official attendance tally.
I felt empowered just being present. As I absorbed the moment, both taking pictures and observing the scene without a camera, I realized that I had not prepared any catchy signs.
Catacorner to where I stood was the Occupy AISD group. Since I had attended a couple of their meetings, I volunteered to hold one end of the banner, which called for an end to high-stakes testing, vouchers and charters.
The Kashmere marching band from Houston led the crowd to the Capitol.
I walked behind the Eastside Memorial marching band, but eventually, we slowed down in order not to be so crowded together so people could read our banner. Although we chanted a variety of things on our way to the Capitol, my favorite was “Education is a right! Not just for the rich and white!” That struck a cord with me on a few levels.
First of all, rich parents have the resources to provide their children with an excellent education. One where the classroom size is less than 35-40 students and the teachers are forced to narrow down what they are teaching in order to drill the things that are found on the standardized test.
Secondly, I would appreciate teaching at a school that has majority minority students that wasn’t run like a prison. Again, expectations should be that we’re preparing them to do a variety of things once they graduate from high school–not telling them in the middle of the school year that they can take a less rigorous academic “minimum plan” and receive a substandard diploma that no 4-year university recognizes.
Once we reached the Capitol, I listened to how a superintendent shook her fist in the face of the Texas Education Agency and refused anyone to administer STAAR. A former TEA chairman, Robert Scott said that he saw the tests spinning out of control and acknowledged that the drastic cuts had been made to the education budget at a time when schools were expected to reach even higher academic levels.
One thing the rally confirmed for me was that public schools are being purposely driven into the ground with the hopes of allowing corporate-run charters to come in and privatize schools to make even more money off the students, which brings to mind my second favorite chant: “Banks got bailed out. Schools got sold out!”
I even felt encouraged when Diane Ravitch predicted that since the high-stakes testing madness had begun in Texas, we’d be the ones to drive a stake in its heart.
After three quick weeks of rehearsal, carnaval finally arrived in all its Bacchanalian glory! Although I’ve attended carnaval three previous years in a row as “security” with my capoeira group to protect the samba dancers and musicians from the crowd, this was the first time that I’ve been an integral part of the show. Seven of us female capoeiristas practiced the maculele choreography along with our samba school counterparts.
This year’s theme was Peter Pan; so our characters were Tiger Lily’s tribe of Indians or as I like to think of it, warrior women. My capoeira group normally dances maculele with wooden sticks and grass skirts. All we really had to do was enhance the bling factor, learn the new choreography and be flexible with such a large-scale production.
Several of my fellow capoeiristas got together twice to work on their costumes. My too-busy schedule did not permit me to participate in either occasion, but I was so fortunate to get a lot of help via donated costume parts and ended up with an attractive Indian outfit. Most of us met up at a capoeirista’s apartment that’s in walking distance of the venue. I had help braiding my dreadlocks and putting feathers in the braids. We got partially dressed, walked over and spent the rest of the time getting ready. The longer we waited, the more makeup and bling we ended up adding to our look. In the end, one capoeirista did my eye makeup simply because we had time to do it.
I loved watching the samba women transform into pirates, mermaids and Rio-style samba dancers. We all went to the colorful lights outside of the venue and took pictures. Instead of doing one big group picture, they assembled us in different mini groups. Afterwards, we gathered along the service ramp, which I thought was a curious backdrop to take a group picture, but turned out that we were to “inconspicuously” enter, mix ourselves into the crowd and once we heard the band start playing toward the entrance, we were to start dancing flash mob style and gather in parade formation at our correct places. Only thing, we capoeristas weren’t exactly sure where our correct place was! We discovered on the fly that we were behind the other dancers, but in front of the drummers.
As usual, our part didn’t go as planned. We were supposed to follow a group of male capoeiristas who were doing acrobatics to entertain the crowd, but both times, they went on when the music had cued us to go on. We politely allowed them to do their thing, but then had to guess when to start our choreography. The first time around, I felt bad about what had happened, but apparently we looked good.
We returned to our second floor dressing room and partook in a samba school tradition of a celebratory drink right after our first performance. We snacked a little and I gave one capoeirista the leftover cornbread that I’d baked earlier that day. Then we returned downstairs with the intention of forging for more food. Instead, we joined the roda. I recorded some wonderful digital of our capoeiristas playing, but I must admit, my favorite was when several higher cordas ambushed a lower corda. It was all in good fun of course!
During the second performance, all the preshow gitters were gone and I danced full of energy on the sidelines. That time around, we maculele capoeiristas went out for a cameo run to support our leader, Tiger Lily. Again, that wasn’t something that we’d rehearsed before, but it went over rather well, considering I briefly ran amok.
After the second show came to a close, all capoeiristas, including those in the samba show, took a group picture and then I took off. I’d done what I’d come to do and felt absolutely fine about leaving “early” around one in the morning. It’s a good thing that I’d left at that time since I spent about 30 minutes getting all those feathers and elastic bands out of my dreads. Then I took another 30 minutes or so to scrub off all that sprayed on glitter. I know an hour to clean up is a much smaller amount of time than it took me to get all dressed up, but it’s seemed like forever when all I really wanted to do was shower, eat and fall into a blissful sleep…which I did eventually and still made it to my 10 o’clock yoga class.
Once again, I had the wonderful occasion to dress up. I used my previous Halloween costume, which was the Black Angel. Since my friends were throwing a Hollywood-themed birthday party, my Black Angel costume magically transformed into a Lady Gaga costume, but once I walked through the VIP stage door entrance, people added to the characters I could possibly be: Madonna, Cruella Deville, a hooker (suggested by one desperate man I wouldn’t have sex with even for money!) and Dennis Rodman (by some guy who obviously needs his eyes checked since I’m WAAAY more attractive!).
Only a handful of people actually dressed up as characters and I managed to take a picture with most of them. What I liked the most about the guy who dressed up as Pan, was his attractive tail; so I showed my attractive capoeira and bikram yoga toned ass.
I cornered the birthday girl in order to take a picture. I’m not sure which glamor doll she was dressed as, but soon after our picture, she and a woman dressed as Mata Hari, got too close to one another and experienced a wardrobe malfunction that took a few minutes to detach.
Next I posed with a friend who originally wanted to dress up as Erik Estrada from “Chips,” but at the last moment, the costume shop called him and said that the helmet had been misplaced. He quickly threw together an appreciable “Blues Brothers” costume.
Most of the party goers were salseros. Many who I recognized, but had forgotten their names. I used to be an avid salsera myself, but then I burned out on the whole scene and switched to tango. As a matter of fact, for my 40th birthday celebration, I created an all-day itinerary so that friends could choose which event(s) they wanted to attend. The birthday boy came during the beginning tango class and continued to take tango lessons long enough to meet the birthday girl. After dating for a few weeks, he introduced her to salsa and they both stopped dancing tango and pursued salsa!
Another friend, who looked like she was a sexy native American (I’m not sure which one) posed with me in my favorite shot of the evening. I normally don’t like having my picture taken from an upward angle, but this actually worked. I think the wig helped destroy any illusion of me having a double chin. Or the photographer was far away that I didn’t create one.
I don’t know if the pseudo-Oscars were given away at the end of the night for any special categories since I left around half past midnight. I normally don’t go out on Friday nights; so even though the party was jumping, I had already had full day of teaching high school Physics, followed by yoga. Besides, as wonderful as my costume was, my waterproof leather boots were not good for the lightining speed turns involved in salsa.
This past Saturday, I had the opportunity to speak out against something that has been one of my biggest challenges to educating my students here in Austin, the lethal effects of high-stakes testing. The Citizens United to Amend organized a rally in order to change the legislation that equated money with free speech and declared corporations as people. This action has far-reaching ramifications and the speakers at the rally came from vastly different organizations to encourage the crowd to call on their representatives to do away with this law.
As I approached the State Capitol, I saw a huge crowd of people gathered at the north side, which was the opposite location of where I expected them to be. As I came closer, I saw several banners with assault rifles on them. I walked slowly through the crowd of second amendment enthusiasts to the south side of the Capitol where a dramatically smaller crowd of about 100 people stood.
I felt inspired, listening to the other speakers encouraging us to do all we could to get big money out of politics. I knew that the president of Education Austin was scheduled to speak, but I did not realize that another teacher was also on the line up. I briefly worried that she’d say the things I’d planned to say, but her speech was dedicated to speaking against corporate-funded charter schools and their lobbying groups.
I was the third educator to speak and unlike my predecessors, I didn’t have my speech (pasted below in its entirety) memorized. Instead, I read my one-page, single-spaced speech off my smartphone, which wasn’t too smart an idea, given the fact that I was facing direct sunlight. Nonetheless, I delivered my speech with as much verve as I do my usual spoken word performance. As soon as I was done, the crowd applauded, several people congratulated me and a cute little blonde girl handed me a piece of paper, which I figured was an announcement for an upcoming education rally. I thanked her without reading it and folded it into my pocket for later.
Once “later” came, I remembered the paper, took it out of my pocket and much to my surprise, it was a flyer about the pro gun rally! I don’t know if her parents intentionally wanted their daughter to give a teacher a pro gun flyer or if they had encouraged her to hand them out indiscriminately. Either way, I’m glad she gave me the reminder to complain about the enthusiasm of arming educators.
Of all the crazy ideas that I’ve heard since living in Texas, intentionally putting weapons in the hands of educators is one that hits very close to home. Not only would that increase school shootings, but the increase in liability alone should make this bad idea undoable. Yet, if anyone actually figures out a way to make this bad idea cost-effective, public school will become one of the most dangerous places to send one’s child. The next “logical” step will be programs where future teachers could earn their combined teaching and gun license!
Over twenty years ago, one of the prevailing mantras that new teachers were told was that one did not go into education for the money. You entered the profession because you cared about kids. Today, we need to make sure that everyone, not just new teachers, hears that message.
With the growing number of corporations getting into the education business, we educators, parents and students need to be vigilant that the quality of education is not sacrificed for the sake of making big business even richer at the cost of our students.
Isn’t ironic that there’s always money to administer standardized tests, hire test coordinators, buy computers for students to take an electronic version of the test, but never enough money to hire more teachers to lower classroom size or even fund an adequate number of science experiments? The only hands-on activity that Texas public school students are absolutely guaranteed to do is bubble an answer document to a standardized test.
That’s because the state of Texas will have spent over a billion dollars from 2000 to 2015 to Pearson Education. With that much money directed to a standardized testing company, it’s no wonder why I’m forced to teach to the test. The truth is, for the most academically vulnerable students, the best strategy to improve their education is to lower the classroom size so that every student receives more one-on-one interaction with the teacher. Academic achievement is not accomplished through an increasing number of money-making high-stakes tests.
When corporations use their money to influence how public schools are run, they effectively silence us, the public. Our tax dollars that are earmarked for education should be used in a manner that best educate our students. As long as we remain silent, corporations will continue lobbying to safeguard their latest cash cow.
Over the past four years that I’ve been a teacher with AISD, I have watched my classroom size grow, the teaching staff shrink and more of my time consumed in preparing for and proctoring standardized tests. I’m forced to merely touch the surface of certain topics with the rationale that students only need to know enough to pass whichever standardized test that’s currently being bought.
The objectives should not be the limit of knowledge, but rather the basis of what students learn. I struggle to give my students more, but I’m confined by time constraints, assessment schedules and very limited resources.
What I can do, however, is speak up. I speak for my students who don’t realize how their education is being shortchanged. I speak up for parents who, whenever I call, they are always willing to do anything in their power to help their child be successful. And I speak for my fellow educators who give 110%, knowing full well that they will not be paid a cent more.
For this month’s Austin Writers Roulette, I dressed up as the Angel of Redemption, which worked because I introduced myself as such and then read my short story, “Renouncing the Devil.” Yet, when I put on the same costume yesterday to celebrate Halloween, my favorite holiday, I just told people that I was a death angel. Short sweet and no further explanation necessary…of course no one guessed that. Instead I was asked if I’d dressed as Lady Gaga or Nicki Minaj.
My first stop was at a friend’s apartment where many of us started our night. A group of them got together to be dress like lucha libre characters. Another was a power ranger and I was amazed to see the flamboyance of the Mad Hatter. That got me into the Halloween spirit.
Unfortunately, none of my friends from that party were going to the Zombie Ball with me. One of the days, I’m going to convince at least one other person to attend. Nonetheless, this being Austin, I was immersed into a friendly, creative crowd of Halloween revelers who enthusiastically posed, sometimes for multiple shots, given my shitty camera.
I had a great time dancing and watching groups of people strut their stuff down the red carpet to have their picture taken. I conveniently stopped them to take their picture as well. Some costumes were cleverly from the neck up like the fish head couple, but others were far more elaborate such as the samurai and geisha couple. The scariest couple was the zombie prisoner and a woman who just looked like voodoo incarnate.
When I finally went inside, a pole dancer was in the middle of her routine. Unlike last year, this performer entertainer wowed the crowd with her skills without taking her clothes off. At the risk of sounding prudish, I think it’s sexier to leave something to the imagination…
Unless you’re a burlesque performer! Those ladies cleverly worked in the big reveal after three or so minutes of singing, dancing and teasing the crowd. What was so refreshing was the confidence the women had strutting their stuff without a care in the world–or plastic surgery.
Then a three-member troupe of circus performers contorted their bodies, danced with twirling lights and hula hoops.
Around midnight, the costume contest commenced. The female winner was a skeleton showgirl and the male winner was a zombie, but he won not just for how well he did his make up, but he had the most impressive zombie walk, truly adding another layer to the whole costume.
In between pole dancing, aerial dancing, costume contest and burlesque, a couple of bands played. The first one I wasn’t too impressed with and went back out to the red carpet to oooh and aaah over the costumes, but the second band was edgy and threw in jazzy tunes and quick syncopated rap. The last band of the night were from Brooklyn and had lots of percussion. I listened to about half of their set before my age caught up with me, dreaming about what I want to be next year.
This is my favorite week of school: Spirit Week. Granted, I love celebrating Halloween; so this is almost the “warm up” to that. Monday was “Crazy Hair Day.” Most days, I fight with my hair to minimize its craziness. On this particular day, I upped the ante. Several Halloween celebrations ago when I still lived in Monterrey, Mexico, I had enough time on my hands to design and assemble several snake headds out of felt in order to be Medusa. Although I took a huge creative license, I did a great job conveying “snakeness.” Medusa needed her snakes in order to turn people into stone. I, on the other hand, with a close up of my morning face, can stop people cold in their tracks!
Tuesday was “Twins Day.” Last year, I wanted the other teachers in my academy to wear one of our academy Tshirts and I also asked if they would wear a dreadlock wig. I’m sure there was a collective laugh over that request. Well, this year, I loosened my net and invited the entire school to wear their HS rockets club Tshirts and dreads. This time, one other teacher took me up on my offer; so I had a twin this year!
Wednesday was “Wear Your Class Color Wednesday.” Students were quite enthusiastic, dressed in their assigned class colors: black, pink, yellow or green, depending on if they were a senior, junior, sophomore or freshman. I dug up on of my Class of 88 Westover Wolverines Tshirt. None of my students seemed to noticed that I graduated from HS before they were born.
Thursday was 80s Day. As much as I’d like to forget the horrible fashion of the decade, people still love to dress up like clowns. About the only thing I had to contribute to my look were the black spandex pants. A friend lent me the chain belts and for some funny reason, she also lent me several banana clips. As if I’d bother fighting with those things in my dreads. Instead, I spent far too much time, putting my locks into a series of elastic bands to form a ponytail. That was pretty authentic since I’d used to wear my hair like that in the 80s–predreadlock days.
Friday was School Spirit Day. This was the least creative day for me. All I wore was a school Tshirt that I would have normally worn on a Friday. Yet, something miraculous occurred. One of my students had hinted earlier in the week that he had a gift for me. This morning, he brought the gift. My jaw dropped when he handed me three Bob Marley LPs. Vinyl! I didn’t even know my students knew about vinyl. Over the years, thanks to technological advancements, my students barely know how to tell time, using an analog clock, the concepts of clockwise/counterclockwise and how to write in cursive. I hugged my student for gifting me the albums and said that I’ll now have to buy a record player at Goodwill. One thing’s for sure: I’ve now got more interesting art work for my walls at home.
Every birthday is special since I can measure where I was the previous year and where I currently am. It’s just amazing the things I’ve done and looking forward to doing since the last birthday. This time around, I scanned the paper and saw that one of my favorite Brazil bands was playing at a free venue. No need to plan an elaborate party…just go to where one would occur!
I took advantage of having Labor Day off to make my own birthday cake, white chocolate and pomegranate cheesecake. I was anxious to make it again since I had some improvements I wanted to try out the second time around. So, I’d eagerly look in on the cheesecake chilling in the freezer, waiting to be devoured on Friday’s celebration.
I only heard from one friend who was meeting me for dinner and dancing, but several others showed up and we started with dessert first. Half of my friends got up to forro. Nonetheless, everyone agreed that the band was very good even if they didn’t care to dance. I was amazed that none of them had ever heard of the band prior to this. In a way, I’m proud that I introduced them to a new band in this vast “live music capital of the world” sea.
After all was eaten, danced, and talked, I returned home to watch a movie. A little earlier than I’d cared to get up on a Saturday morning, I went to the capoeira studio to meet the guy who was dropping off the chairs for Sunday’s Austin Writers Roulette. I then returned home to take a mid-morning nap and get some other things done before returning to the capoeira studio to rehearse for our big show later Saturday night.
My capoeira teacher had an ambitious plan for the Brazil Independence Day celebration that took place at a downtown club. The event organizer had given us a 30-minute slot and the graduado students choreographed two dances, my capoeira teacher put together a capoeira choreography and then we ended the show, playing benguela, regional then solos. It was the most ambitious, impressive show we’d put together so far. I was so happy to be part of that community at large. The other members of the line up included five bands and the samba school.
A few capoeiristas complimented my playing ability, teasing me about how I avoided roda on Thursdays, but happily played during presentations. All I can say is that I’m attempting to avoid injury as much as possible. At my age, nothing heals like it used to!
Once again, I stayed up a little too late and had to wake up a bit earlier than I cared to, but I definitely needed to go to yoga this morning after missing it on Friday. So, rounding out my birthday weekend, I’m hosting the roulette and all I really want to do is take a nap. Yet, the show must go on. I’ve got a wonderful line up for the “Beauty in Other Cultures” event and I trust that this show is going to be the best of three that we’ve had so far. As a matter of fact, this show has the most diversity among the participating artists.
Thank goodness school’s on Monday…I need the rest.
