One of my favorite upscale grocery stores that has weekly live music groups and performances also sponsors a weeklong special, featuring foods from a particular country.  In the past, they’ve had the spotlight on France and Argentina.  This year, they highlighted Brazil. 

I sacrificed a yoga workout in order to rehearse on Monday and Tuesday for the Wednesday performance. I knew that I wasn’t going to play capoeira, but I still needed to learn the latest maculele routine and practice singing the lyrics for “Puxada de Rede.”  One silver lining I had while proctoring the science TAKS Wednesday morning was going over the choreography and lyrics in my head.

So by the time I left school and went straight to the venue, I felt pretty confident. Of course, one oversight was that I forgot to pack my capoeira pants. Small detail…at least I had plenty of time to enjoy my Brazilian-style thinly sliced beef sandwich, a glass of malbec and as few fries as I could stop myself from eating.

I thought we were a little unfortunate that on the coldest day of the week, we were outside dancing in sports bras and a grass skirt. Yet, that was refreshing during our first performance.  The second performance was a little colder, but just as exhilarating.

Afterwards, five pizzas and some huge salads were promptly brought out for us. I’d originally thought that I wouldn’t be around in order to eat any of it, but the guy in charge was on top of things. The food was fantastic and I had to restrain myself from going treasure hunting through the salad to get all the delicious cherry tomatoes.

Even though I’m not a “hardcore” capoeirista, I truly enjoy that I still have a viable contribution to make in helping share Brazilian culture.

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.

I’m going to start gathering wood.