In another episode of "Raquel Is a Better Parent Than You," below is an email K sent to N's vice principal. It brought a (thug) tear to my eye. Pay special attention to the bold portion; that's where it is evident that she is my child.
Hello Mrs. [Vice Principal],
My name is K. I am N's older sister. I am a freshman at [fancy school that costs LOTS of money] studying Electrical Engineering and Sociology.
When I turned 18, N was very excited because she wanted me to chaperone one of her school trips. However, when I asked about her senior trips, for the only one she will have, chaperones must be over 21.
I don't understand why this age requirement is so high given that I am legally an adult now and I was hoping you could explain it to me. The only reason I would think it would be a problem was if alcohol was involved but this is an eighth grade trip to [typical local senior trip-type place].
I was also hoping that despite it, you would allow me to chaperone the trip anyway. I am very responsible and kids younger than me tend to obey me, so there wouldn't be an issue with that.
I also think that N deserves this, given the amount of ostracization and semi-bullying she has had to put up with for the past three years. I know N really wants to go on this trip but I fear just how much fun she will have when she is constantly excluded from any group activities. She deserves and should have at least one person to have fun with her, who wants to be with her and not just a buddy she's been paired up with. I can be that person since I will be home by then. This will be one of her last memories of this school and I want it to be an excellent one.
N told me that it was the Chancellor's rule though she couldn't explain; I understand if it may not be possible to allow me to chaperone but I am pleading with you to make this one exception.
I apologize for sending this email so late. I am in the last two weeks of classes before finals and as I'm sure you know, it gets very hectic around this time.
Thank you for hearing me out,
K
P.S. I cc'd my mother on this as well. She knows about this situation and will probably want to know what I said.
*smooches...resisting the urge to 'reply-all' with: SHE TOLD YOU!*
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after years of witnessing my "letters to corporate" K really went all in for her first one!
Showing posts with label School. Show all posts
Showing posts with label School. Show all posts
Friday, April 25, 2014
Thursday, August 22, 2013
I Swear I Wrote This BEFORE I Saw "The Matrix"
 |
| Cover art where my baby dwells |
But the gist of the assignment was repetition. There had to be an element of the story that kept repeating every few lines, if not every line. So there's a lot of mention of the red uppers and blue downers throughout the barely-two-thousand-word story.
On a deeper level, this story touches upon this girl's continuous habit of self-medication, which at the time was reflecting my own way of handling a crisis- that crisis, of course, being my grandmother's death, which was still painfully fresh in my mind in 2005.
Well this poor baby had been rejected from many a flash fiction contest. I would read it over and over and think What aren't people getting? This is a good fucking story! But alas, editors from here to LA didn't feel the same, until I met a young woman named Hannah Clayman who ran a zine for women in Brooklyn, You Should Be Here. She encouraged me to submit something and, with a few hours left until deadline, I sent off the story. I think she wrote me back the next day to say they "loved(!)" my story, and I was all FINALLY! SOMEONE GETS IT!
So now I can finally add another credit to my name: I've self-published a book on writing, I've been interviewed for a prominent Dominican news source online, and I've published two short stories--one online and one in print.
I say that deserves some fucking Shake Shack and Haagen Dazs this weekend!
*smooches...trying not to rest on my laurels*
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there's still so much I need to do, but I'm enjoying this journey so far.
Monday, January 16, 2012
The Hardest Talk I've Ever Had With My Baby
Just when I thought we had this school situation settled, N is bringing home zeros for missing homework, and had a 62 on a recent social studies test. This is January; it can't still be growing pains and frankly I'm sick of it.
Right now I need to face the fact that either she's not as smart as we thought or she's having some focus issues. Clearly my initial solution of spanking her for every zero has not been a good-enough deterrent in this case. It was in the beginning but now it's not working. And spare me your theories on spanking- I believe in it and nothing you say will change my mind.
So, in my attempt to reach her, I had to give N the straight story. I have strong suspicions that one or more of her teachers are straight up racist and/or do not like her. And it was hard for me to admit this because the race card is not one I've ever pulled on anything. And I've worked in education so I know how parents can overreact, but this is not the case.
I had to explain to N that this country that she's supposed to pledge allegiance to sees her as nothing more than a stupid, lazy little black girl, and as unfair as it may be, she has to work harder to make it. It was true way back in the day and is most certainly true now. I had to explain that with so many strikes against her- race, gender, socioeconomic background- she cannot afford not even one mistake. Not. Even. One. And that every homework she misses proves "them" right. Every test she fails proves "them" right. And every time she screws up it ruins her options in life. I wanted to transfer her out of what I feel is not a good middle school fit, but what new school or enrichment program is going to take a lazy student with sporadically good grades? The Prep for Prep's of the world don't want kids whose answer to "Why isn't your homework done?" is "I didn't know I had to do it." How is she going to make National Junior Honor Society with this "zero" bullshit?
I hated having to crush Ns life bubble like that but something has to get through to her. She cannot coast through this life thinking the world is fair and she has the same opportunities as the kid sitting next to her. We all know that's the propaganda served up to us but it isn't a reality.
Uncovering the man behind the curtain was the only weapon I had left in my arsenal and I don't even know if it will work. It might just be time to accept that she's chosen her path and it isn't an academic one.
*no smooches today...motherhood has killed my happy*
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I just wish I knew how to fix this already because the stress of it all is killing me slow.
Right now I need to face the fact that either she's not as smart as we thought or she's having some focus issues. Clearly my initial solution of spanking her for every zero has not been a good-enough deterrent in this case. It was in the beginning but now it's not working. And spare me your theories on spanking- I believe in it and nothing you say will change my mind.
So, in my attempt to reach her, I had to give N the straight story. I have strong suspicions that one or more of her teachers are straight up racist and/or do not like her. And it was hard for me to admit this because the race card is not one I've ever pulled on anything. And I've worked in education so I know how parents can overreact, but this is not the case.
I had to explain to N that this country that she's supposed to pledge allegiance to sees her as nothing more than a stupid, lazy little black girl, and as unfair as it may be, she has to work harder to make it. It was true way back in the day and is most certainly true now. I had to explain that with so many strikes against her- race, gender, socioeconomic background- she cannot afford not even one mistake. Not. Even. One. And that every homework she misses proves "them" right. Every test she fails proves "them" right. And every time she screws up it ruins her options in life. I wanted to transfer her out of what I feel is not a good middle school fit, but what new school or enrichment program is going to take a lazy student with sporadically good grades? The Prep for Prep's of the world don't want kids whose answer to "Why isn't your homework done?" is "I didn't know I had to do it." How is she going to make National Junior Honor Society with this "zero" bullshit?
I hated having to crush Ns life bubble like that but something has to get through to her. She cannot coast through this life thinking the world is fair and she has the same opportunities as the kid sitting next to her. We all know that's the propaganda served up to us but it isn't a reality.
Uncovering the man behind the curtain was the only weapon I had left in my arsenal and I don't even know if it will work. It might just be time to accept that she's chosen her path and it isn't an academic one.
*no smooches today...motherhood has killed my happy*
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I just wish I knew how to fix this already because the stress of it all is killing me slow.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
And Now For My Next Trick...
...I shall mull over my next academic endeavors in order to become a "doctor" before my 45th birthday!
Yes, now that my MFA thesis is in the hands of the program director I feel it's time I start looking ahead to what I want to study next. Oh, did you think I was done learning? Foolish mortals... I'll never be done learning. I'll probably be sitting next to your grandchildren in a literature course one day. We'll be BFFs and I'll tell them all about the ignorant comments you used to leave on my blog. And then we'll laugh and laugh and laugh. Trust.
This time around I decided to be frugal and see what CUNY had to offer in terms of interesting degree programs that will start me on the PhD road (seeing as my MFA is a terminal degree that I wanted for vanity's sake & to help get me started on my writing career). Hey, it's never too late to be what I could have been, right?
I have a very tough decision ahead of me, though- do I stick with a literature-based course of study or go back to the sciences? Both are so interesting and alluring! And most importantly, both can help me devote the rest of my life to language, literacy and environmental science, and eventually, apply all of that to my overall life's mission of SAVING THE WORLD!
I think the Nerd Girl in me just had ten orgasms...
But in all seriousness, I have a Big Picture in my mind's eye and all of the graduate programs I'm considering are the stepping stones along that journey.
Pray for me, y'all. I'm gonna email the powers that be at CUNY and get some insight. I'll report back after I've chosen a program and am accepted.
*smooches...looking forward to my next degree*
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these things are addictive... like tattoos!
Yes, now that my MFA thesis is in the hands of the program director I feel it's time I start looking ahead to what I want to study next. Oh, did you think I was done learning? Foolish mortals... I'll never be done learning. I'll probably be sitting next to your grandchildren in a literature course one day. We'll be BFFs and I'll tell them all about the ignorant comments you used to leave on my blog. And then we'll laugh and laugh and laugh. Trust.
This time around I decided to be frugal and see what CUNY had to offer in terms of interesting degree programs that will start me on the PhD road (seeing as my MFA is a terminal degree that I wanted for vanity's sake & to help get me started on my writing career). Hey, it's never too late to be what I could have been, right?
I have a very tough decision ahead of me, though- do I stick with a literature-based course of study or go back to the sciences? Both are so interesting and alluring! And most importantly, both can help me devote the rest of my life to language, literacy and environmental science, and eventually, apply all of that to my overall life's mission of SAVING THE WORLD!
I think the Nerd Girl in me just had ten orgasms...
But in all seriousness, I have a Big Picture in my mind's eye and all of the graduate programs I'm considering are the stepping stones along that journey.
Pray for me, y'all. I'm gonna email the powers that be at CUNY and get some insight. I'll report back after I've chosen a program and am accepted.
*smooches...looking forward to my next degree*
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these things are addictive... like tattoos!
Monday, July 18, 2011
I Just Pressed SEND.
Ladies and gentlemen, the moment we've ALL been waiting for...
Please proceed in an orderly fashion to the emergency room at Methodist Hospital where Raquel is currently being treated after suffering from multiple panic attacks. And please, no photographs; her hair is unkempt.
News at 11.
*smooches...not sure what to feel*
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I suppose I'll write THAT post after I get the sensation back in my left arm...
Raquel has emailed her MFA Thesis edits to her professor.
Please proceed in an orderly fashion to the emergency room at Methodist Hospital where Raquel is currently being treated after suffering from multiple panic attacks. And please, no photographs; her hair is unkempt.
News at 11.
*smooches...not sure what to feel*
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I suppose I'll write THAT post after I get the sensation back in my left arm...
Tuesday, May 03, 2011
36 Soon Come: 10-Year Plans
A bit ago, I read an article in the New York Times Magazine that featured 21 high school seniors’ plans for the next 10 years of their lives and many of the answers made me sad. It also made me rush home and ask my 15-year-old what her 10-year plan was, to make sure she has a realistic hold on this world. Hey, she’s my kid so you never know.
When I was 18 all I wanted was to get out of Brooklyn, out from under my mother’s over-protective hold and just away from everyone and everything that was familiar. Oh, and I wanted to be a groupie for Guns N Roses- following them from show to show. That was, of course, in 1993 when the band was still together (shakes angry fists at Axl’s ego). Once I stepped onto Alfred’s campus and began classes, all I wanted to do was drink as much cheap and/or free liquor as I could get my hands on and maybe attend a class here and there. By my sophomore year, after having to convince the school to not kick me out, I was determined to really buckle down on my studies- Environmental Science- so that I could intern at the US Environmental Protection Agency and save the world. No more groupie dreams, just straight-up geology and statistics and socio-political classes. Then I got pregnant.
In my senior year I really, truly could give nan one fuck about the environment, but it was too late to change majors. My new 10-year plan involved living in sin with my child’s father someplace nice and making ends meet as best I could. Sexy, right? Sometime in 1998 I was already back in the NYC area, working a desk job at a SoHo publisher (fancy!), degree-less and severely unhappy with my marriage and life. Five years out of high school and nothing to show for it except some Fiestaware dishes I bought from eBay, a daughter and a fake marriage.
The next five years found me changing jobs at least three more times, having another daughter, adding vintage cameras to the items I was hoarding off of eBay and finally getting my BA in 2003. Ten years out of high school and I hadn’t saved the world, followed Guns N Roses anywhere and was STILL in a bad, fake marriage with a going-nowhere job.
I tell you all this because many of you probably have a similar story to tell- you were hyped up by your parents and teachers and told you could do anything and be anything and have it all…by 30. It’s so unrealistic and unfair to put that on a child. I beg of you not to perpetuate this myth with any of the children in your life.
You can have many things by the age of 30: two degrees; the beginnings of a kick-ass career; maybe a budding family; maybe a starter home or a nice apartment; and if you work really hard, some money stashed away for a rainy day. But you will not have this mysterious “all” by 30. You may not even get it by 40. If you look at most of the people with real financial wealth or successful careers, or any semblance of an “all” they’re old as fuck. Like, knocking on 60s door old. And they’ve put in eons of hard work.
In that New York Times Magazine article, one high school senior said that in 10 years, he’d be a pediatric surgeon with a house and enough bank to get his parents out of debt.
May the Lord be with him and his pipe dreams…
*smooches...teaching my kids better*
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I wish someone had been more honest with me back then... it would have saved me so much heartache and bad feelings.
When I was 18 all I wanted was to get out of Brooklyn, out from under my mother’s over-protective hold and just away from everyone and everything that was familiar. Oh, and I wanted to be a groupie for Guns N Roses- following them from show to show. That was, of course, in 1993 when the band was still together (shakes angry fists at Axl’s ego). Once I stepped onto Alfred’s campus and began classes, all I wanted to do was drink as much cheap and/or free liquor as I could get my hands on and maybe attend a class here and there. By my sophomore year, after having to convince the school to not kick me out, I was determined to really buckle down on my studies- Environmental Science- so that I could intern at the US Environmental Protection Agency and save the world. No more groupie dreams, just straight-up geology and statistics and socio-political classes. Then I got pregnant.
In my senior year I really, truly could give nan one fuck about the environment, but it was too late to change majors. My new 10-year plan involved living in sin with my child’s father someplace nice and making ends meet as best I could. Sexy, right? Sometime in 1998 I was already back in the NYC area, working a desk job at a SoHo publisher (fancy!), degree-less and severely unhappy with my marriage and life. Five years out of high school and nothing to show for it except some Fiestaware dishes I bought from eBay, a daughter and a fake marriage.
The next five years found me changing jobs at least three more times, having another daughter, adding vintage cameras to the items I was hoarding off of eBay and finally getting my BA in 2003. Ten years out of high school and I hadn’t saved the world, followed Guns N Roses anywhere and was STILL in a bad, fake marriage with a going-nowhere job.
I tell you all this because many of you probably have a similar story to tell- you were hyped up by your parents and teachers and told you could do anything and be anything and have it all…by 30. It’s so unrealistic and unfair to put that on a child. I beg of you not to perpetuate this myth with any of the children in your life.
You can have many things by the age of 30: two degrees; the beginnings of a kick-ass career; maybe a budding family; maybe a starter home or a nice apartment; and if you work really hard, some money stashed away for a rainy day. But you will not have this mysterious “all” by 30. You may not even get it by 40. If you look at most of the people with real financial wealth or successful careers, or any semblance of an “all” they’re old as fuck. Like, knocking on 60s door old. And they’ve put in eons of hard work.
In that New York Times Magazine article, one high school senior said that in 10 years, he’d be a pediatric surgeon with a house and enough bank to get his parents out of debt.
May the Lord be with him and his pipe dreams…
*smooches...teaching my kids better*
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I wish someone had been more honest with me back then... it would have saved me so much heartache and bad feelings.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
I'm That Student You Were Warned About In Teacher's College
Since my undeserved unemployment began, I've been looking into teaching again- on the grade school, HS and college level- and, well, it's funny that I should keep coming back to the one profession that I really never wanted to pursue. I mean, I do but I don't. Does that make sense? Like, I want to help learners of all ages do better, but I wish there were a little pill I could give them, something called INSTA-SMART, that they could just take once a day for a month and be smart for life. Because remember that the Waco School for Girls and the online teaching gig were disastrous and this current language instruction gig is alright but still...UGH...like I care about the preterite or the future conditional tense? WTF are those things anyway?
I was also reminded of the type of student I was, and wondered what my teachers must have thought of me. I don't mean in grades k-8 because I was an absolute DOLL; I did all my work and earned high marks and never talked back. The only time I ever had detention was for chronic lateness (SURPRISE! SURPRISE!). Well, maybe there was that ONE TIME I tried to get smart in Religion class, only to have Mr. Coughlin shut me down. But that hardly counts. It was Religion class. No one takes that shit seriously.
But once my freshman year of high school was over I started to cross over into the dark side of missing homework assignments, cutting classes and straight up not caring about grades. But to show you what a nerd I was, MY idea of not caring was getting Bs. Senior year, tho? LAWD... however did I manage to graduate?! I'll tell you what- if it wasn't for the fact that I test extremely well, I would have had to repeat a few classes. That's how often I skipped out and disregarded assignments. Once I had that college acceptance letter I basically phoned it in.
How FRUSTRATING it must have been for my teachers! I know for a fact my Civil Engineering teacher, Mr. Peemoeller, was DONE with me. D-O-N-E. Because he told me so on a daily basis. And my wood shop teacher TOLD MY MOM that I was getting the boys in my class to do my work for me. BITCH, WHAT?!?! Talk about HATERRRRRR! And please- in that class where we were using AutoCAD? Pssshhhhhh! My days were pretty much spent torturing the instructor and leaving subliminal messages in hidden layers on others' projects. Muahahahahahahha!
And then college. Let's have a moment of silence for all my potential...
...
...
...
Yeah, in college I went to a few classes, looked over a few books, turned in an assignment here and there, but mostly I napped in the back of the lecture halls and PARTIED like everyday was 1999. And when I say partied, I mean PAR-TEEEEED. Basically I borrowed thousands of thousands of dollars from Uncle Sam to go to keggers and drop acid. FUN TIMES. I can only imagine my professors in the lounge, talking shit. "You have Raquel in your Intro to World Religions class? Well good luck seeing an assignment from THAT one!" smh... I was the WORST!
So I'm looking back at all this and think- am I ready to deal with students like me? Smart kids with the ability to go far who piss it all away for one dumb reason after another? Will I be able to resist the urge to strangle these lazy mofos? Or will I go off on them in the hallway, like Mr. Peemoeller did to me that time he told me I should just skip college because I'm not disciplined enough for it?
I'm almost afraid to get callbacks...
*smooches...wondering if education is really ready for JADED*
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or should I just steer clear of other peoples' kids altogether??
I was also reminded of the type of student I was, and wondered what my teachers must have thought of me. I don't mean in grades k-8 because I was an absolute DOLL; I did all my work and earned high marks and never talked back. The only time I ever had detention was for chronic lateness (SURPRISE! SURPRISE!). Well, maybe there was that ONE TIME I tried to get smart in Religion class, only to have Mr. Coughlin shut me down. But that hardly counts. It was Religion class. No one takes that shit seriously.
But once my freshman year of high school was over I started to cross over into the dark side of missing homework assignments, cutting classes and straight up not caring about grades. But to show you what a nerd I was, MY idea of not caring was getting Bs. Senior year, tho? LAWD... however did I manage to graduate?! I'll tell you what- if it wasn't for the fact that I test extremely well, I would have had to repeat a few classes. That's how often I skipped out and disregarded assignments. Once I had that college acceptance letter I basically phoned it in.
How FRUSTRATING it must have been for my teachers! I know for a fact my Civil Engineering teacher, Mr. Peemoeller, was DONE with me. D-O-N-E. Because he told me so on a daily basis. And my wood shop teacher TOLD MY MOM that I was getting the boys in my class to do my work for me. BITCH, WHAT?!?! Talk about HATERRRRRR! And please- in that class where we were using AutoCAD? Pssshhhhhh! My days were pretty much spent torturing the instructor and leaving subliminal messages in hidden layers on others' projects. Muahahahahahahha!
And then college. Let's have a moment of silence for all my potential...
...
...
...
Yeah, in college I went to a few classes, looked over a few books, turned in an assignment here and there, but mostly I napped in the back of the lecture halls and PARTIED like everyday was 1999. And when I say partied, I mean PAR-TEEEEED. Basically I borrowed thousands of thousands of dollars from Uncle Sam to go to keggers and drop acid. FUN TIMES. I can only imagine my professors in the lounge, talking shit. "You have Raquel in your Intro to World Religions class? Well good luck seeing an assignment from THAT one!" smh... I was the WORST!
So I'm looking back at all this and think- am I ready to deal with students like me? Smart kids with the ability to go far who piss it all away for one dumb reason after another? Will I be able to resist the urge to strangle these lazy mofos? Or will I go off on them in the hallway, like Mr. Peemoeller did to me that time he told me I should just skip college because I'm not disciplined enough for it?
I'm almost afraid to get callbacks...
*smooches...wondering if education is really ready for JADED*
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or should I just steer clear of other peoples' kids altogether??
Friday, July 09, 2010
"The Time Will Come One Day"
I've been hit in the face with a few setbacks in the last few weeks, the kind that make me want to throw up my hands in defeat and scream NO MAS. I QUIT. YOU WIN. And just take any old stupid job, become another cog in the wheel, if I may.
Actually, I've had some major setbacks all year but whatever, those are major ones that are never ending. I'm specifically talking about some new ones that decided to creep in and really mess with my head.
First, you all know about the ex and his foolish decision to quit his job. That was a major blow to my patience. A whole lot of me wants to beat his ass, but the side of me that's afraid of jail is keeping me calm.
Then, work dried up. Not at the language center- that's going well. It could be better but eh, I'll take what I can at this point. But freelancing for the PR firm (which I hated anyway) is at a standstill and new projects? What new projects? Because I can't find any paying gigs in my field. I should have stayed in the sciences because this writing bullshit is just that- bullshit.
But the latest in a long line of GRRRRR moments was and is that my little writing group, La Pluma y La Tinta, has fallen apart; my Letters I'll Never Send blog ceased getting submissions, and my Jaded Takes On “web series” seems to be on permanent hiatus. And I'm frustrated. It almost feels like everything I create just turns to shit. And yes, that may be a little dramatic but that's how I feel right now.
It is extremely hard to be my own cheerleader. I'm just not that peppy GO GET EM type of gal. And when I start something with the expectation that there will be others to help keep things moving along (as opposed to just me doing everything) and suddenly I'm the only one there...it's just really disheartening. And it's making me want to just shrivel away into the obscurity from whence I came. I already have issues motivating myself- if those around me are ALSO unmotivated then shit will just never get done.
Same as it's not getting done now.
In the meantime, I'm trying so hard not to crumble. So if y'all don't mind, cease from asking me how anything is going these days. This post is to tell you: IT'S NOT GOING WELL. I DON'T KNOW WHEN MY NEXT READING IS SCHEDULED OR WHEN THE NEXT LETTERS POST WILL GO UP. I DON'T KNOW WHEN I WILL BE ABLE TO FILM ANOTHER SPORTS SEGMENT AND IF YOU ASK ABOUT MY THESIS OR JOB PROSPECTS I WILL KILL YOU.
The End.
*smooches...truly sick of all these reminders of my failures*
--------------
and please don't try to be funny in the comments. I'm being serious. In fact, I'm closing comments because a lot of you don't know how to act...
Actually, I've had some major setbacks all year but whatever, those are major ones that are never ending. I'm specifically talking about some new ones that decided to creep in and really mess with my head.
First, you all know about the ex and his foolish decision to quit his job. That was a major blow to my patience. A whole lot of me wants to beat his ass, but the side of me that's afraid of jail is keeping me calm.
Then, work dried up. Not at the language center- that's going well. It could be better but eh, I'll take what I can at this point. But freelancing for the PR firm (which I hated anyway) is at a standstill and new projects? What new projects? Because I can't find any paying gigs in my field. I should have stayed in the sciences because this writing bullshit is just that- bullshit.
But the latest in a long line of GRRRRR moments was and is that my little writing group, La Pluma y La Tinta, has fallen apart; my Letters I'll Never Send blog ceased getting submissions, and my Jaded Takes On “web series” seems to be on permanent hiatus. And I'm frustrated. It almost feels like everything I create just turns to shit. And yes, that may be a little dramatic but that's how I feel right now.
It is extremely hard to be my own cheerleader. I'm just not that peppy GO GET EM type of gal. And when I start something with the expectation that there will be others to help keep things moving along (as opposed to just me doing everything) and suddenly I'm the only one there...it's just really disheartening. And it's making me want to just shrivel away into the obscurity from whence I came. I already have issues motivating myself- if those around me are ALSO unmotivated then shit will just never get done.
Same as it's not getting done now.
In the meantime, I'm trying so hard not to crumble. So if y'all don't mind, cease from asking me how anything is going these days. This post is to tell you: IT'S NOT GOING WELL. I DON'T KNOW WHEN MY NEXT READING IS SCHEDULED OR WHEN THE NEXT LETTERS POST WILL GO UP. I DON'T KNOW WHEN I WILL BE ABLE TO FILM ANOTHER SPORTS SEGMENT AND IF YOU ASK ABOUT MY THESIS OR JOB PROSPECTS I WILL KILL YOU.
The End.
*smooches...truly sick of all these reminders of my failures*
--------------
and please don't try to be funny in the comments. I'm being serious. In fact, I'm closing comments because a lot of you don't know how to act...
Thursday, April 22, 2010
"Paruparo, Palaka, Baka, Isda."
Those are the very first Tagalog words I learned on Tuesday as part of my training to become an English and Spanish instructor at a language center in the Wall St. area. That's right- I'm giving the teaching thing another try but with a twist.
At first I was nervous about it. My English is awesome but my Spanish, wellllllll, let's just say I speak an "ebonics" version of Spanish, and it's fast and at times, incomprehensible. But the ad asked for native speakers and that's me- a native Spanish speaker.
It was my first language, and even though I spent most of my life perfecting my "White" voice and my English grammar, it has never left me. Sometimes I doubt my ability to communicate with another Spanish speaker but as soon as the situation arises the words formulate in my brain and roll off my tongue the way they're supposed to.
Not to say that I can't use some help with my spelling, grammar and pronunciation; that's a given. I've already contacted Mari for tips on improving all that stuff before I get a student, and being the awesome little sister that she is, I received in my gmail a wealth of information that will help me along.
So I'm excited about this new opportunity, not only because it will improve my teaching AND language skills, but because I will be at a place where languages and cultures are revered. You don't even understand how the NERD GIRL in me woke up and paid attention during all of the demo lessons the other potential instructors gave. I now have some French, Czech, Arabic, Portuguese, Albanian and Tagalog in my arsenal and I can't even quiet the little butterflies tingling all over my body at the prospect of being back in an institution of learning.
And the bonus? I heard them playing some Gypsy Kings in the lounge the other day.
I'm totally going to LOVE this place!
*smooches...con un poquito de español*
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yeah, so, if we're talking and all of a sudden I bust out with some Albanian on your ass don't be alarmed...it's just The Voices digesting all this new information.
At first I was nervous about it. My English is awesome but my Spanish, wellllllll, let's just say I speak an "ebonics" version of Spanish, and it's fast and at times, incomprehensible. But the ad asked for native speakers and that's me- a native Spanish speaker.
It was my first language, and even though I spent most of my life perfecting my "White" voice and my English grammar, it has never left me. Sometimes I doubt my ability to communicate with another Spanish speaker but as soon as the situation arises the words formulate in my brain and roll off my tongue the way they're supposed to.
Not to say that I can't use some help with my spelling, grammar and pronunciation; that's a given. I've already contacted Mari for tips on improving all that stuff before I get a student, and being the awesome little sister that she is, I received in my gmail a wealth of information that will help me along.
So I'm excited about this new opportunity, not only because it will improve my teaching AND language skills, but because I will be at a place where languages and cultures are revered. You don't even understand how the NERD GIRL in me woke up and paid attention during all of the demo lessons the other potential instructors gave. I now have some French, Czech, Arabic, Portuguese, Albanian and Tagalog in my arsenal and I can't even quiet the little butterflies tingling all over my body at the prospect of being back in an institution of learning.
And the bonus? I heard them playing some Gypsy Kings in the lounge the other day.
I'm totally going to LOVE this place!
*smooches...con un poquito de español*
----------
yeah, so, if we're talking and all of a sudden I bust out with some Albanian on your ass don't be alarmed...it's just The Voices digesting all this new information.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
It's More Than Fundamental, It's Essential
Y'all know I love a good laugh, but you know what's not funny, at all? Illiteracy. I used to think it was a rip-roaring good time to point out people who couldn't read and make fun of them until I came across a 50+ year-old man who honestly asked me:
"Does 'tidy' mean you're always on time for stuff?"
Really? REALLY? That made me so sad. How do you not know what TIDY means? It's not a super-difficult SAT word like facetious or ephemeral or venerable. Fucking TIDY. Why doesn't he know that oh-so-simple word?
Is this why the unemployment rate is so high? What school let you get through without knowing what TIDY meant? Don't you read? CAN YOU READ? The questions that started to fill my head gave me such a migraine I can't even explain it. Because when stuff like that happens all I can think is "what can I do to keep this from happening again?"
What can I do?
How many volunteer hours at inner city community centers will it take? How many READ A BOOK blog posts must I write? Should I just start my own literacy program? How do I do that? Will I have to get ANOTHER degree to accomplish it?
Honestly I cannot imagine my life without words- reading them, writing them, knowing what they mean. That episode of The Twilight Zone with the dude who just wants to be alone with his books but then his reading glasses break? That's my worse fucking nightmare! Of all my senses I cannot live without my eyes. Or rather, I wouldn't want to.
Knowing your way around words opens SO MANY doors- didn't anyone ever take the time to give this man this crucial bit of information? Words are how The Man tries to keep us down with his legal jargon and mumbo-jumbo. You gotta KNOW what he's saying before your rights are taken away and you die penniless and freedomless. Didn't anyone take the time to tell him?
What can I do? Tell me what to do to prevent this from happening again because really, it hurts my heart to know there are more men and women and children like him all over the world. Just tell me what I can do...
*smooches...NOT OK with illiteracy*
----------
seriously- if you know of a program or organization or charity or ANYTHING, let me know. I can't sleep now thinking about this shit.
"Does 'tidy' mean you're always on time for stuff?"
Really? REALLY? That made me so sad. How do you not know what TIDY means? It's not a super-difficult SAT word like facetious or ephemeral or venerable. Fucking TIDY. Why doesn't he know that oh-so-simple word?
Is this why the unemployment rate is so high? What school let you get through without knowing what TIDY meant? Don't you read? CAN YOU READ? The questions that started to fill my head gave me such a migraine I can't even explain it. Because when stuff like that happens all I can think is "what can I do to keep this from happening again?"
What can I do?
How many volunteer hours at inner city community centers will it take? How many READ A BOOK blog posts must I write? Should I just start my own literacy program? How do I do that? Will I have to get ANOTHER degree to accomplish it?
Honestly I cannot imagine my life without words- reading them, writing them, knowing what they mean. That episode of The Twilight Zone with the dude who just wants to be alone with his books but then his reading glasses break? That's my worse fucking nightmare! Of all my senses I cannot live without my eyes. Or rather, I wouldn't want to.
Knowing your way around words opens SO MANY doors- didn't anyone ever take the time to give this man this crucial bit of information? Words are how The Man tries to keep us down with his legal jargon and mumbo-jumbo. You gotta KNOW what he's saying before your rights are taken away and you die penniless and freedomless. Didn't anyone take the time to tell him?
What can I do? Tell me what to do to prevent this from happening again because really, it hurts my heart to know there are more men and women and children like him all over the world. Just tell me what I can do...
*smooches...NOT OK with illiteracy*
----------
seriously- if you know of a program or organization or charity or ANYTHING, let me know. I can't sleep now thinking about this shit.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
All Kinds Of Minds Indeed
When I worked at the Waco School for Girls in Pottersville, New Jersey, the lunatic in charge head of school, David Koresh Jenifer, had all the faculty participate in some ol' bullshit this professional development program called All Kinds of Minds. This program was geared towards kids who were not succeeding in a traditional school environment (i.e. ALL of the girls at Waco) and the tools we as educators (and parents) needed to change all that.
At first I was all rolling my eyes and not in the mood to personalize all of my classroom lessons to 15 different learning styles. I mean really- if you can't learn the regular way then go work at McDonald's because every time I go there I have to wait all day for fresh fries so clearly they're understaffed! Haven't these people ever heard, the world needs ditch-diggers, too?
It wasn't until after I left that awful, horrible, no good place that I realized that program was onto something because I, too, have trouble succeeding academically in a traditional classroom setting. Not that I've ever been tested or diagnosed, but even with my little bit of teaching experience and my extensive background in being a student, I could tell the idea behind this program was not a sham.
Everyone does learn differently, and need different things to help them do well in school. Me, I'm what's considered a cross between a visual & interactive learner. This means my brain has trouble processing information that I hear, but if I'm shown this information in a hands-on way I'm able to grasp it better. The reason? My mind will hear something, and in that something one to two words will trigger a thought unrelated to what's going on and next thing you know it's been five minutes and I've missed everything you've just said.
Is there medication for this? Hell- they've got medication for the pins and needles you feel in your leg when you've been sitting on it too long, I'm super sure there are meds for this. But a better, drug-free solution, in my opinion, is to help a child learn in a fashion that their brain is able to handle. Is this costly and unavailable in many schools? Yes. Are there kids that genuinely need medication? Eh, maybe. My point is, there's an alternative.
As much as I LOATHED my time at Waco it really helped me when dealing with my own children, whether we're dealing with academic or behavioral matters. K seems to be rather auditory in her learning; I can tell her something, she'll say "got it" and keep it moving. N, on the other hand, seems to be more in tune with my style of learning where if you talk at her too much you will lose her. Even when I discipline her I keep my reprimands short, sweet, to the point and always try to preface it with "look at my face" and end it with "what did I just say?" (see, if you make them repeat it you can gauge if your point got across)
Why are we talking about this? Because some really nice people offered to talk me through my computer problems and I had to abruptly shut them down. Not because I'm a lazy ungrateful bitch but because you TELLING me how to fix my computer, short of saying "unplug it and start over" is not going to work and take twenty times as long than someone sitting at the desk, showing me how it needs to be fixed. Guaranteed I'll know how to fix it on my own from then on.
It's the basic "give the man a fish..." situation. Writing instructions, to my brain, is like giving me a fish. Coming over here and SHOWING me is, well, showing me how to fish. It may sound backwards to you, but I think we already knew that about my brain, no?
*smooches...for all those with special learning needs*
----------
part of being a great student is knowing your learning style and being vocal about it. It's the only way I was able to get through all the schooling I got through.
OH SNAP! look at me being all teacherly n shit! *poses*
At first I was all rolling my eyes and not in the mood to personalize all of my classroom lessons to 15 different learning styles. I mean really- if you can't learn the regular way then go work at McDonald's because every time I go there I have to wait all day for fresh fries so clearly they're understaffed! Haven't these people ever heard, the world needs ditch-diggers, too?
It wasn't until after I left that awful, horrible, no good place that I realized that program was onto something because I, too, have trouble succeeding academically in a traditional classroom setting. Not that I've ever been tested or diagnosed, but even with my little bit of teaching experience and my extensive background in being a student, I could tell the idea behind this program was not a sham.
Everyone does learn differently, and need different things to help them do well in school. Me, I'm what's considered a cross between a visual & interactive learner. This means my brain has trouble processing information that I hear, but if I'm shown this information in a hands-on way I'm able to grasp it better. The reason? My mind will hear something, and in that something one to two words will trigger a thought unrelated to what's going on and next thing you know it's been five minutes and I've missed everything you've just said.
Is there medication for this? Hell- they've got medication for the pins and needles you feel in your leg when you've been sitting on it too long, I'm super sure there are meds for this. But a better, drug-free solution, in my opinion, is to help a child learn in a fashion that their brain is able to handle. Is this costly and unavailable in many schools? Yes. Are there kids that genuinely need medication? Eh, maybe. My point is, there's an alternative.
As much as I LOATHED my time at Waco it really helped me when dealing with my own children, whether we're dealing with academic or behavioral matters. K seems to be rather auditory in her learning; I can tell her something, she'll say "got it" and keep it moving. N, on the other hand, seems to be more in tune with my style of learning where if you talk at her too much you will lose her. Even when I discipline her I keep my reprimands short, sweet, to the point and always try to preface it with "look at my face" and end it with "what did I just say?" (see, if you make them repeat it you can gauge if your point got across)
Why are we talking about this? Because some really nice people offered to talk me through my computer problems and I had to abruptly shut them down. Not because I'm a lazy ungrateful bitch but because you TELLING me how to fix my computer, short of saying "unplug it and start over" is not going to work and take twenty times as long than someone sitting at the desk, showing me how it needs to be fixed. Guaranteed I'll know how to fix it on my own from then on.
It's the basic "give the man a fish..." situation. Writing instructions, to my brain, is like giving me a fish. Coming over here and SHOWING me is, well, showing me how to fish. It may sound backwards to you, but I think we already knew that about my brain, no?
*smooches...for all those with special learning needs*
----------
part of being a great student is knowing your learning style and being vocal about it. It's the only way I was able to get through all the schooling I got through.
OH SNAP! look at me being all teacherly n shit! *poses*
Thursday, November 12, 2009
In Case You Thought I Was Exaggerating...
Here is a paper one of my grown-ass students handed in:
Can you please understand my pain and suffering now? And buy me a big ass motherfucking drink???
*smooches...kicking myself daily for taking this job*
----------
at least it will all be over in 5 weeks!
The “Black Sox Scandal” is about the 1919 World Series and the Chicago White Sox fixing the game.
In the 1919 World Series it was the Chicago White Sox against the Cincinnati Reds. Wight players on the Chicago White Sox were accused of Throwing the game. In 1919 the White Sox had played better than every other the team but they were still an unhappy team, because they were paid so poorly. Most people believe if it were not for Charles Comiskey being so stingy it probably would have never happened. Comiskey would constantly make promises he did not plan on keeping. He told the players that they would get bonuses if they won pennant. After they won they got cheap bottles of Champaign instead.
People familiar with the case agree Chicago’s first baseman Chick Gandil was the ringleader. He told Joseph Sullivan, a small time gambler, that for $100,000, Gandil and several of his teammates would make sure the White Sox would lose. Gandil then went to get cooperation of his teammates. He knew he would need 2 of his pitchers Ciccotte and Williams.
Ciccotte had his own grudge against Comiskey. Comiskey had promised him that if he won thirty games he would get a $10,000 bonus. Ciccotte won twenty-nine games then Comiskey benched him. Saying he needed to rest up for the pennant games and since he only twenty –nine games he never got a bonus. Williams was interested in the money along with the other teammates who went along with it.
The players were told they would get $20,000 for throwing the games. Chicago lost the first game 9-1. They did not receive the money they were promised. They agreed to lose the second game if the money came the next day. They lost 4-2. After the game, Gandil looked up Abe Attell ,another gambler involved, to collect the $40,000 owed him and his teammates for throwing two games. He received only $10,000. The players were upset and began to have second thoughts about continuing to lose.
Chicago won the third game and many of the gamblers betting on individual games lost a great deal of money. It was Attell's turn to feel betrayed and he refused to pay any more. Sullivan came up with $20,000 before the fourth game and at least some of the traitors were still willing to lose. Cicotte made several errors, and the Reds won 2-0. Chicago lost game five, as well, with a final score of 5-0.
By now the gamblers had missed another payment, and the players had decided there was no reason to lose. At least if they won the Series, they would collect $5,000 each. Chicago won the sixth game 5-4 and the seventh 4-1. The players all seemed to play to the best of their abilities, and the national championship was within their grasp. Unfortunately, any chance of winning was ruined by Arnold Rothstein. Instead of betting individual games, he had bet on Cincinnati to win the series. With his investment at risk, Rothstein sent one of his henchman to visit Williams, who was pitching in the eighth game. He explained to Williams that Rothstein wanted the Series to end the next day. He threatened Williams and his wife. Chicago lost 10-5.
Can you please understand my pain and suffering now? And buy me a big ass motherfucking drink???
*smooches...kicking myself daily for taking this job*
----------
at least it will all be over in 5 weeks!
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
The Stories That Became A Novel
As many of you know, my MFA thesis, the creative part anyway, is comprised of various short stories and a script for a short film. For as long as I can remember, although I devour novels like extra hot Buffalo wangs (yes- WANGS) with blue cheese dressing, the short story has always been my preferred method of storytelling. My reasoning was always something along the lines of, "I have Adult ADHD and it won't allow me to concentrate on anything longer than a short story."
But on Monday one of the women in my Writing Workshop called bullshit on my whole plan and said the thing I've been avoiding forever and ever and a day: "These aren't short stories; these are snippets of a novel."
What. The. Fuck.
As soon as she said that to me, with a little smirk and a glimmer in her eye, I knew she was right. This is why the stories weren't coming together the way I wanted them to. The details were jumbled. The flow was off. The meat and potatoes of it needed more sazón. All because I was trying to keep them apart when CLEARLY they belong together. Enfermos is not a collection of short stories, it's a *GASP* novel. So I need to start treating it as such.
This epiphany, for as much as it solves some key problems in the stories, creates a whole new set of issues: Which story goes first? How do I mesh them? Do I have to pick only ONE narrator or can I have many?
*pulls out hair*
Should I go in chronological order or take the reader on a crazy ride into the past, then to the future, before letting them settle into the present? And my script, I suppose, needs to part ways with this new incarnation of my tales. A divorce of sorts. Learn to stand on its own 25 minutes.
*sigh*
I was totally fretting over this Monday night and all of Tuesday; I got very little sleep and have been irritable to the nth degree. I've lost all desire to eat, leave the house, think, write, breathe. All because my stories have evolved without me, because I still see them as stories and really, all they want for me to know is that they've metamorphosed into a novel while I was busy not paying attention.
Maybe I'm feeling a little betrayed by my words, that they would reveal themselves to Theresa and not to me, their mother. Perhaps this is what I need to come to terms with before I dive in and restructure the entire thing?
Whatever it is, I'm warning y'all- this shit right here? This is worse than PMS. Take cover.
*smooches...overwhelmed but ready to do the work*
----------
I feel like my stories are teenagers, asserting their independence and shit. maybe I should give them the "THIS HOUSE IS NOT A DEMOCRACY" speech I gave my babies...
and I dare one of you heifers to talk shit about my writing tools... DARE. YOU.
But on Monday one of the women in my Writing Workshop called bullshit on my whole plan and said the thing I've been avoiding forever and ever and a day: "These aren't short stories; these are snippets of a novel."
What. The. Fuck.
As soon as she said that to me, with a little smirk and a glimmer in her eye, I knew she was right. This is why the stories weren't coming together the way I wanted them to. The details were jumbled. The flow was off. The meat and potatoes of it needed more sazón. All because I was trying to keep them apart when CLEARLY they belong together. Enfermos is not a collection of short stories, it's a *GASP* novel. So I need to start treating it as such.
This epiphany, for as much as it solves some key problems in the stories, creates a whole new set of issues: Which story goes first? How do I mesh them? Do I have to pick only ONE narrator or can I have many?
*pulls out hair*
Should I go in chronological order or take the reader on a crazy ride into the past, then to the future, before letting them settle into the present? And my script, I suppose, needs to part ways with this new incarnation of my tales. A divorce of sorts. Learn to stand on its own 25 minutes.
*sigh*
I was totally fretting over this Monday night and all of Tuesday; I got very little sleep and have been irritable to the nth degree. I've lost all desire to eat, leave the house, think, write, breathe. All because my stories have evolved without me, because I still see them as stories and really, all they want for me to know is that they've metamorphosed into a novel while I was busy not paying attention.
Maybe I'm feeling a little betrayed by my words, that they would reveal themselves to Theresa and not to me, their mother. Perhaps this is what I need to come to terms with before I dive in and restructure the entire thing?
Whatever it is, I'm warning y'all- this shit right here? This is worse than PMS. Take cover.
*smooches...overwhelmed but ready to do the work*
----------
I feel like my stories are teenagers, asserting their independence and shit. maybe I should give them the "THIS HOUSE IS NOT A DEMOCRACY" speech I gave my babies...
and I dare one of you heifers to talk shit about my writing tools... DARE. YOU.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Of Writerly Things...
I'm really getting into this WRITER role I've decided to finally accept. And when I say writer I mean someone who lives, breathes, shits, EVERYTHING the written word, because I had to slap the realization into myself that the only way to get better and hold onto my MASTER OF FINE ARTS title is to do writerly things.
Like joining the ACENTOS Writing Workshop at Hostos Community College in the Bronx on Sundays. And even though they are dealing primarily with poetry, a genre with which I've never been comfortable, I'm challenging myself to follow through on all the assignments. No matter how difficult they may seem. Or how crappy the poems I end up writing are.
Or the free screenwriting class I attended held by the Gotham Writer's Workshop in Lower Manhattan. Listen, I have a script and it's HAWT but it needs work. Lots of work. This class helped light a fire.
Or participating in the upcoming blogging event, Blog Cafe 1.0, a networking event on October 2nd for bloggers that is my attempt on spreading the word on MY words instead of hiding them:
Or the fiction writing group I co-founded in Park Slope that meets twice a month at a fellow writer's home, and where we help improve each others writing projects. Our goal? To produce the best possible manuscripts we can with the support of like-minded creative types.
Or the upcoming get-together with The FDU Writers on Saturday in New Jersey; my beautiful classmates and fellow MASTERS OF FINE ARTS. We try and meet once a month to chat, inspire one another and catch up on the wonderful world of literary fiction.
Or my fall project, The Artist's Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity by Julia Cameron. I've had this book on my shelf for years, and it wasn't until a fellow writer and blogger Demetria Irwin of Love Is Dope, wrote about completing the 12-week workshop that I was motivated to finally dust off this gem and try it for real.
Or the writer's group I joined in BedStuy, Write in BK, which meets the first Wednesday of the month at Brownstone Books. I've only been to one meeting so far but I really enjoyed the cool vibe from my fellow Brooklyn Literati and plan on being there every month from now on!
Or the near completion of my MFA Thesis (for the 100th time)... slow and steady wins the race, people. And you can ask Irene- these stories need WORK, as does the essay, so it's been overwhelming to get and stay motivated enough to just DO IT.
Or the book I'm asking you all to read for an upcoming discussion on Monday Musings- Beautiful Boy: A Father's Journey Through His Son's Addiction by David Sheff. One of The FDU Writers had recommended it a while ago, and Mari read it this summer. Both ladies sang its praises, and since I'm such a NERD about addictions these days I'm choosing it. You have until October 18th to finish!
Or most importantly, by the way I defended my writing talent/ability to someone who had the audacity to try and take the wind out my sails about my words. The old Raquel would have sat around for HOURS reading everything she'd ever written doubting herself something awful. The new Raquel wrote this person off as a hatin' negative nelly and kept it moving.
*does a double-tuck somersault ending in a dutty wine split*
I'm a writer, y'all. I'm a freakin' WRITER!
*smooches...hoping you enjoyed these words I wrote for you today*
----------
and if anyone is interested in ANY of the activities I mentioned above, let me know and I'll send you the info ASAP, from one writer to another. After all, we have to stick together!!
Like joining the ACENTOS Writing Workshop at Hostos Community College in the Bronx on Sundays. And even though they are dealing primarily with poetry, a genre with which I've never been comfortable, I'm challenging myself to follow through on all the assignments. No matter how difficult they may seem. Or how crappy the poems I end up writing are.
Or the free screenwriting class I attended held by the Gotham Writer's Workshop in Lower Manhattan. Listen, I have a script and it's HAWT but it needs work. Lots of work. This class helped light a fire.
Or participating in the upcoming blogging event, Blog Cafe 1.0, a networking event on October 2nd for bloggers that is my attempt on spreading the word on MY words instead of hiding them:
Who: Bloggers and Site owners
What: Networking event for bloggers/site owners and their readers.
Where: Katwalk NY* | 2 west 35th street, corner of 5th Avenue
When: Friday, October 2, 2009 6pm-9pm
Why: Because sometimes we can all use a little break from our Macs and PCs to network and mingle in person.
The FIRST 50 guests to show up with their Business Cards will receive a gift bag, courtesy of the participating Bloggers and site owners.
What: Networking event for bloggers/site owners and their readers.
Where: Katwalk NY* | 2 west 35th street, corner of 5th Avenue
When: Friday, October 2, 2009 6pm-9pm
Why: Because sometimes we can all use a little break from our Macs and PCs to network and mingle in person.
The FIRST 50 guests to show up with their Business Cards will receive a gift bag, courtesy of the participating Bloggers and site owners.
Or the fiction writing group I co-founded in Park Slope that meets twice a month at a fellow writer's home, and where we help improve each others writing projects. Our goal? To produce the best possible manuscripts we can with the support of like-minded creative types.
Or the upcoming get-together with The FDU Writers on Saturday in New Jersey; my beautiful classmates and fellow MASTERS OF FINE ARTS. We try and meet once a month to chat, inspire one another and catch up on the wonderful world of literary fiction.
Or my fall project, The Artist's Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity by Julia Cameron. I've had this book on my shelf for years, and it wasn't until a fellow writer and blogger Demetria Irwin of Love Is Dope, wrote about completing the 12-week workshop that I was motivated to finally dust off this gem and try it for real.
Or the writer's group I joined in BedStuy, Write in BK, which meets the first Wednesday of the month at Brownstone Books. I've only been to one meeting so far but I really enjoyed the cool vibe from my fellow Brooklyn Literati and plan on being there every month from now on!
Or the near completion of my MFA Thesis (for the 100th time)... slow and steady wins the race, people. And you can ask Irene- these stories need WORK, as does the essay, so it's been overwhelming to get and stay motivated enough to just DO IT.
Or the book I'm asking you all to read for an upcoming discussion on Monday Musings- Beautiful Boy: A Father's Journey Through His Son's Addiction by David Sheff. One of The FDU Writers had recommended it a while ago, and Mari read it this summer. Both ladies sang its praises, and since I'm such a NERD about addictions these days I'm choosing it. You have until October 18th to finish!
Or most importantly, by the way I defended my writing talent/ability to someone who had the audacity to try and take the wind out my sails about my words. The old Raquel would have sat around for HOURS reading everything she'd ever written doubting herself something awful. The new Raquel wrote this person off as a hatin' negative nelly and kept it moving.
*does a double-tuck somersault ending in a dutty wine split*
I'm a writer, y'all. I'm a freakin' WRITER!
*smooches...hoping you enjoyed these words I wrote for you today*
----------
and if anyone is interested in ANY of the activities I mentioned above, let me know and I'll send you the info ASAP, from one writer to another. After all, we have to stick together!!
Monday, June 08, 2009
Where I Failed As A Mother
Most of you already know K is on her way to one of the Specialized High Schools in New York City. She took the test, scored well and gained admission. It wasn't her first choice but she's happy with the outcome. She's not a conscientious student (she gets it from both me AND her dad) but she's very intelligent.
However, I hate to even think about where she'd be going to school next year if she weren't naturally smart. Not just because her study habits suck ass, but because I am convinced her junior high school did a piss-poor job of academically preparing her for what comes next.
Let me give you the backstory...
When I moved back to NYC in 2005, K started 5th grade at a school in Jamaica, Queens because I was still living with my mom at the time. In January of 2006 we moved into our own place in Brooklyn and she switched to the local school, the one that N attends now (which, by the way, I ADORE).
K's guidance counselor approached me in the spring about where we should send her for JHS, and mentioned this new charter school that he felt would be a good fit for her. We (me, my ex and Mari) went to an info session, K interviewed and was accepted. I was excited for her and thought we'd hit the jackpot.
Until she started going there.
My grievances with them are too many to itemize, but they range from sloppy administrative practices to downright wasting my kids time in the classroom. If you remember this post, I had to complain about their atrocious disciplinary methods and most recently, a bogus "class trip" had my panties in such a bunch that I had to write another "stern letter to corporate."
And while it is easy to sit here and tell you about how bad this school is and how I'll NEVER EVER send my kids to a new school ever again (sorry, but I'm going to need to see at least a decade of successful graduates before you get a hold of MY child!) I have to take ownership on my part in all this.
I never transferred her out.
I've loathed this school since K was in the 6th grade but didn't do anything except complain to my friends, family, blog readers and anyone else who would listen. And for that I'm a bad mommy.
Next year, K is in for an eye opener because the HS she's attending is no joke with the academics: it will challenge her until she curls up into a ball and cries herself to sleep. How do I know? Because it's my alma mater, and I experienced the same thing. My JHS, a parochial school that wasn't concerned with whether or not you could count as long as you loved Jesus, did not prepare me for the rigors of a specialized high school. I feel as though I did K a disservice by not pulling her out of her school in the 6th grade and transferring her elsewhere and now it's June.
All I can do now is hope for the best and stay on her ass about homework even more than I do now.
*smooches...wondering if this ruins my chances at mother of the year*
----------
or- wait- I WAS in the running, right? RIGHT? Hello? Is this thing on???
However, I hate to even think about where she'd be going to school next year if she weren't naturally smart. Not just because her study habits suck ass, but because I am convinced her junior high school did a piss-poor job of academically preparing her for what comes next.
Let me give you the backstory...
When I moved back to NYC in 2005, K started 5th grade at a school in Jamaica, Queens because I was still living with my mom at the time. In January of 2006 we moved into our own place in Brooklyn and she switched to the local school, the one that N attends now (which, by the way, I ADORE).
K's guidance counselor approached me in the spring about where we should send her for JHS, and mentioned this new charter school that he felt would be a good fit for her. We (me, my ex and Mari) went to an info session, K interviewed and was accepted. I was excited for her and thought we'd hit the jackpot.
Until she started going there.
My grievances with them are too many to itemize, but they range from sloppy administrative practices to downright wasting my kids time in the classroom. If you remember this post, I had to complain about their atrocious disciplinary methods and most recently, a bogus "class trip" had my panties in such a bunch that I had to write another "stern letter to corporate."
And while it is easy to sit here and tell you about how bad this school is and how I'll NEVER EVER send my kids to a new school ever again (sorry, but I'm going to need to see at least a decade of successful graduates before you get a hold of MY child!) I have to take ownership on my part in all this.
I never transferred her out.
I've loathed this school since K was in the 6th grade but didn't do anything except complain to my friends, family, blog readers and anyone else who would listen. And for that I'm a bad mommy.
Next year, K is in for an eye opener because the HS she's attending is no joke with the academics: it will challenge her until she curls up into a ball and cries herself to sleep. How do I know? Because it's my alma mater, and I experienced the same thing. My JHS, a parochial school that wasn't concerned with whether or not you could count as long as you loved Jesus, did not prepare me for the rigors of a specialized high school. I feel as though I did K a disservice by not pulling her out of her school in the 6th grade and transferring her elsewhere and now it's June.
All I can do now is hope for the best and stay on her ass about homework even more than I do now.
*smooches...wondering if this ruins my chances at mother of the year*
----------
or- wait- I WAS in the running, right? RIGHT? Hello? Is this thing on???
Friday, June 05, 2009
I Was Told To Write A "Happy" Post
I've been having the shittiest of shitty weeks! I mean, so bad that I've cried, oh, no less than 6 times and as I write this it's not even Friday.
Smarty Jones suggested a write a happy post to make me feel better but you know what? I can't, because I'm right smack in the middle of this down cycle that sort of crept up on me when I wasn't looking.
Long story short- my thesis will take at least two weeks to a month to finish (I'm aiming for July 1st!) instead of being done by last Monday like I wanted, and it looks like I'll be out of a job by then, too.
>>>COINCIDENTALLY, if any of you know of a writing/editing/admin asst/McDonald's cashier positions available in NYC, I'd appreciate the head's up. I have 2.5 mouths to feed (I can always do without... you've seen my belly!) and a sizable monthly rent bill.<<<
Instead, I can tell you that while taking my evening shower yesterday I solved the character issues I had with my story Grey Matter... I loved the opening line but it was fucking up the rest of the story, so it occurred to me to change the SECOND line and POOF- story fixed. I can't tell you how relieved it was to finally have a solution for that story... it was slowly eating me alive!
I can also tell you that Jack sent me the cutestnote pad jotter and pen set for my birthday and I love him/miss him dearly!! I know I'm behind on my Thank You cards, people, but I'm getting to it, PROMISE!!
Also, Titi Gloris reminded me that I need to go pick up my birthday gift. How could I have forgotten that?? I'll be over there Sunday afternoon for sure!
And finally, I got an email from my favorite sweatbox in Williamsburg, and it informed me that DJ Medina is spinning this weekend. Forget my usual 1st Saturdays + Soda Bar routine... you can find me there! And I know he'll play at least TWO Juan Luis Guerra tunes for me if I ask nicely and YES, Smarty, that will, in fact, make me happy.
(y mira aqui who's all of a sudden tryna be down with Dominicans.. I see you Zoe!)
But not as happy as I'll be once I hand in my resignation!
*smooches...checking the calendar to see if it's PMS week*
----------
its the only reason as to why I've shed so many tears this week... but nope, that's next week. OH LORD! You mean it's about to get WORSE?!?!
(hope you enjoyed the Juan Luis medley... he is what makes me really, really happy, if not a little "homesick")
Smarty Jones suggested a write a happy post to make me feel better but you know what? I can't, because I'm right smack in the middle of this down cycle that sort of crept up on me when I wasn't looking.
Long story short- my thesis will take at least two weeks to a month to finish (I'm aiming for July 1st!) instead of being done by last Monday like I wanted, and it looks like I'll be out of a job by then, too.
>>>COINCIDENTALLY, if any of you know of a writing/editing/admin asst/McDonald's cashier positions available in NYC, I'd appreciate the head's up. I have 2.5 mouths to feed (I can always do without... you've seen my belly!) and a sizable monthly rent bill.<<<
Instead, I can tell you that while taking my evening shower yesterday I solved the character issues I had with my story Grey Matter... I loved the opening line but it was fucking up the rest of the story, so it occurred to me to change the SECOND line and POOF- story fixed. I can't tell you how relieved it was to finally have a solution for that story... it was slowly eating me alive!
I can also tell you that Jack sent me the cutest
Also, Titi Gloris reminded me that I need to go pick up my birthday gift. How could I have forgotten that?? I'll be over there Sunday afternoon for sure!
And finally, I got an email from my favorite sweatbox in Williamsburg, and it informed me that DJ Medina is spinning this weekend. Forget my usual 1st Saturdays + Soda Bar routine... you can find me there! And I know he'll play at least TWO Juan Luis Guerra tunes for me if I ask nicely and YES, Smarty, that will, in fact, make me happy.
(y mira aqui who's all of a sudden tryna be down with Dominicans.. I see you Zoe!)
But not as happy as I'll be once I hand in my resignation!
*smooches...checking the calendar to see if it's PMS week*
----------
its the only reason as to why I've shed so many tears this week... but nope, that's next week. OH LORD! You mean it's about to get WORSE?!?!
(hope you enjoyed the Juan Luis medley... he is what makes me really, really happy, if not a little "homesick")
Friday, May 08, 2009
Now The Babies Are In On The Act...
ME (upon opening a letter from FDU regarding graduation): Why is the president of the school writing to me about graduation? Doesn't he know I already graduated in 2007?
K: Maybe he heard you didn't finish your thesis...
*smooches...wondering if it's child abuse if I only slightly chop her in the throat*
----------
and with that, good people, I go on a two-week Blog Vacation. see you after the holiday.
BE SAFE, BE WELL, AND MAKE EVERY DAY COUNT
K: Maybe he heard you didn't finish your thesis...
*smooches...wondering if it's child abuse if I only slightly chop her in the throat*
----------
and with that, good people, I go on a two-week Blog Vacation. see you after the holiday.
BE SAFE, BE WELL, AND MAKE EVERY DAY COUNT
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Appreciation.
I just found out that it's Teacher Appreciation Week. Besides the fact that we should be appreciating the people who put up with our rass clot babies all the time, it's nice that a week is set aside to really, really show our gratitude.
Y'all know that I'm a Class-A nerd who, up until my grad school graduation in 2007, was in school since the age of 5, so OF COURSE I have many memorable teachers in my academic memory bank.
Like Mrs. Geasor, my 2nd Grade teacher, who really wanted to skip me to the 3rd grade but I didn't want to go. Those 3rd graders looked scary, and my classroom had the cutest lil loft play area. I wasn't ready to give up play time. (Damn... I was a lazy genius even in the 2nd grade? For SHAME!)
Or Mrs. Alt, my JHS Spanish teacher, who let me write this little skit for a project for extra credit. Or was it just a regular project? I can't remember, but I had fun writing it and she was lovely!
And the Myriad of BTHS Teachers that shaped my life:
>>Mr. Greenberg, Dr. Cocchiarelli & Ms. Reiss- wonderful English teachers that encouraged my reading & writing habit
>>Ms. Schreiber- who introduced me to the beautiful Italian language
>>Mr. Peemoeller & Mr. Honor- who, despite my classroom shenanigans, taught me to appreciate engineering
>>Ms. Sais & Mr. Mirer- who, bless their hearts, TRIED to make Social Studies interesting
>>Mr. Curulli- who let me hang out in the guidance office when I didn't feel like eating lunch or going to class
>>Mr. Ferdinand- who had the FUNNEST metal shop class this side of the Mason-Dixon line, I swear!
Plus the few, the proud, the Alfred U. professors who worked hard so I could (finally) graduate: Prof. Trice, Dr. Hluchy, Carol Burdick (R.I.P.) and Dr. Godshalk
And last but definitely not least, My FDU mentors, who really, truly helped me find my voice: Renee Ashley, Jeffery Renard Allen, Thomas E. Kennedy, Walter Cummins and Martin Donoff.
Of course it would be wrong of me to write a post about how great these teachers are without mentioning another great teacher- my baby sis, Mari. I've never seen her in action in the classroom, but I know HER, and she's awesome so ipso-facto she's an awesome teacher.
You heard it here first.
*smooches...for all teachers everywhere*
----------
who were some of your favorite teachers? tell me in the comments!
Y'all know that I'm a Class-A nerd who, up until my grad school graduation in 2007, was in school since the age of 5, so OF COURSE I have many memorable teachers in my academic memory bank.
Like Mrs. Geasor, my 2nd Grade teacher, who really wanted to skip me to the 3rd grade but I didn't want to go. Those 3rd graders looked scary, and my classroom had the cutest lil loft play area. I wasn't ready to give up play time. (Damn... I was a lazy genius even in the 2nd grade? For SHAME!)
Or Mrs. Alt, my JHS Spanish teacher, who let me write this little skit for a project for extra credit. Or was it just a regular project? I can't remember, but I had fun writing it and she was lovely!
And the Myriad of BTHS Teachers that shaped my life:
>>Mr. Greenberg, Dr. Cocchiarelli & Ms. Reiss- wonderful English teachers that encouraged my reading & writing habit
>>Ms. Schreiber- who introduced me to the beautiful Italian language
>>Mr. Peemoeller & Mr. Honor- who, despite my classroom shenanigans, taught me to appreciate engineering
>>Ms. Sais & Mr. Mirer- who, bless their hearts, TRIED to make Social Studies interesting
>>Mr. Curulli- who let me hang out in the guidance office when I didn't feel like eating lunch or going to class
>>Mr. Ferdinand- who had the FUNNEST metal shop class this side of the Mason-Dixon line, I swear!
Plus the few, the proud, the Alfred U. professors who worked hard so I could (finally) graduate: Prof. Trice, Dr. Hluchy, Carol Burdick (R.I.P.) and Dr. Godshalk
And last but definitely not least, My FDU mentors, who really, truly helped me find my voice: Renee Ashley, Jeffery Renard Allen, Thomas E. Kennedy, Walter Cummins and Martin Donoff.
Of course it would be wrong of me to write a post about how great these teachers are without mentioning another great teacher- my baby sis, Mari. I've never seen her in action in the classroom, but I know HER, and she's awesome so ipso-facto she's an awesome teacher.
You heard it here first.
*smooches...for all teachers everywhere*
----------
who were some of your favorite teachers? tell me in the comments!
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Follow Thru...
Oye- my show was THE BOMB yesterday and I know a lot of you missed it, so check out my BTR page (click on the icon on the right hand column) and leave a comment on the BTR blog.
And don't forget to vote, dammit!
-----------------
I have a gazillion flaws- from my weird toes to my sarcastic undertones to my penchant for catching an attitude with people for no good reason- but my biggest, meanest, nastiest flaw has to be my lack of follow-thru.
I went to grad school, borrowed thousands of dollars from Uncle Sam to pay for it, and guess what? I still have no diploma because my thesis edits remain unfinished.
I began work on a website, an online portfolio... even went so far as to hire a webmaster, with lofty plans to have it launch in September. What month is it? Yeah, that's what I thought.
There is this awesome charity that I really wanted to work with... and I keep forgetting to get back in touch with them and begin the grant writing project they wanted me to start on.
Last year I launched Operation Bikini Body... and I think we all know what happened with that. You don't know? Didn't I tell you? Oh, well I paid Bally's $35 a month and never went. Not only that, but I gained even more weight.
Basically I'm a flake, and I hate that about myself. It's partly a product of over-extending myself, volunteering myself for stuff that I end up not having enough time for, and it's partly because I'm a slave to technology.
These ideas flow through my mind and they all sound so good; I write notes on post-its and put them in my day planner. I say to myself: You see this to-do list you just made? Follow it to a tee and your day will go so much better.
But then I get distracted. And then the lazies kick in. And next thing you know nothing has been accomplished except maybe I watched West Side Story clips on YouTube as if I don't own the DVD.
Here's what's what: For weeks now I've been finishing up different projects that have gone untouched and been ignored for months (or years) now, and it's been going really well. That is a first for me. And it's mostly working because I'm not talking about it to every Tom, Dick and Geraldo I come across, especially here on the blog. I'm just doing it. Not writing it down or planning a schedule or anything- just picking a project and rolling with it.
So that is my new approach to anything I'll be undertaking from now on.. I'm gonna steal Nike's slogan and just do it. (And yes I do understand that I am, in essence, telling you of THIS plan on the blog thereby defeating the purpose of... dammit, you know what I'm getting at!) I already employ this policy when it comes to men and dating, and now I'm applying it to other aspects of my life.
Secretly, I think the Haters and Doubters are reading about my plans and sending me bad juju. So, no more ammunition for you, Haters and Doubters... I'm onto you; and this time I'm armed with a shitload of Orishas so you'd better watch the fuck out... Chango is on MY side...
I'm just gonna go about my life as I have been this fall, without pomp and circumstance so that I can actually get things done.
And maybe, after I've accomplished my goals, I'll let you in on it. Maybe. Or maybe I'll enjoy my tiny victories at home with my babies over a game of Uno and a fresh batch of cupcakes.
*smooches...realizing that somethings are better left unplanned and unsaid*
----------
especially if the Universe is going to keep throwing me these dang curve balls... I mean I love baseball and all, but that doesn't mean I'm good at it!
PS- don't forget to vote; both in the Presidential AND the local elections. Pretty Please? For ME? With a cherry on top?
And don't forget to vote, dammit!
-----------------
I have a gazillion flaws- from my weird toes to my sarcastic undertones to my penchant for catching an attitude with people for no good reason- but my biggest, meanest, nastiest flaw has to be my lack of follow-thru.
I went to grad school, borrowed thousands of dollars from Uncle Sam to pay for it, and guess what? I still have no diploma because my thesis edits remain unfinished.
I began work on a website, an online portfolio... even went so far as to hire a webmaster, with lofty plans to have it launch in September. What month is it? Yeah, that's what I thought.
There is this awesome charity that I really wanted to work with... and I keep forgetting to get back in touch with them and begin the grant writing project they wanted me to start on.
Last year I launched Operation Bikini Body... and I think we all know what happened with that. You don't know? Didn't I tell you? Oh, well I paid Bally's $35 a month and never went. Not only that, but I gained even more weight.
Basically I'm a flake, and I hate that about myself. It's partly a product of over-extending myself, volunteering myself for stuff that I end up not having enough time for, and it's partly because I'm a slave to technology.
These ideas flow through my mind and they all sound so good; I write notes on post-its and put them in my day planner. I say to myself: You see this to-do list you just made? Follow it to a tee and your day will go so much better.
But then I get distracted. And then the lazies kick in. And next thing you know nothing has been accomplished except maybe I watched West Side Story clips on YouTube as if I don't own the DVD.
Here's what's what: For weeks now I've been finishing up different projects that have gone untouched and been ignored for months (or years) now, and it's been going really well. That is a first for me. And it's mostly working because I'm not talking about it to every Tom, Dick and Geraldo I come across, especially here on the blog. I'm just doing it. Not writing it down or planning a schedule or anything- just picking a project and rolling with it.
So that is my new approach to anything I'll be undertaking from now on.. I'm gonna steal Nike's slogan and just do it. (And yes I do understand that I am, in essence, telling you of THIS plan on the blog thereby defeating the purpose of... dammit, you know what I'm getting at!) I already employ this policy when it comes to men and dating, and now I'm applying it to other aspects of my life.
Secretly, I think the Haters and Doubters are reading about my plans and sending me bad juju. So, no more ammunition for you, Haters and Doubters... I'm onto you; and this time I'm armed with a shitload of Orishas so you'd better watch the fuck out... Chango is on MY side...
I'm just gonna go about my life as I have been this fall, without pomp and circumstance so that I can actually get things done.
And maybe, after I've accomplished my goals, I'll let you in on it. Maybe. Or maybe I'll enjoy my tiny victories at home with my babies over a game of Uno and a fresh batch of cupcakes.
*smooches...realizing that somethings are better left unplanned and unsaid*
----------
especially if the Universe is going to keep throwing me these dang curve balls... I mean I love baseball and all, but that doesn't mean I'm good at it!
PS- don't forget to vote; both in the Presidential AND the local elections. Pretty Please? For ME? With a cherry on top?
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Applying To A NYC High School Is A Full Time Job
Whether I like it or not, this year K, my ex and I have to dive head first into the mashugana NYC High School application process as if we have nothing else to do all day.
Some of you out-of-towners might not understand what I'm going through over here because chances are there are like three high schools in your hometown, and depending on where you live that's where you go to school.
Well, not in NYC. Here you have the option of attending ANY school regardless of location, and in order to attend the school of your choice you might have to audition (for performing arts schools) or take a test (for specialized & catholic & prep schools) or have an interview (for screened programs). And then you have to have the grades and test scores and go to open houses and OMG! I think I just burst a blood vessel near my temple...
It all starts in 7th grade- your marks from that year will determine where you can get in. That's the year you also get the NYC High Schools Directory- 584 pages of information on everything you could ever want to know about every-freakin-school within City limits. It's the size of the Staten Island yellow pages, for real.
So you have to go through this book and look at the schools you like and determine if, from the school's POV, you'd be a good candidate. THEN you have to attend these HS fairs and speak with reps from all the schools. THEN you have to schedule an interview and attend the school's open house and guided tour.
THEN, depending on whether you're going to Mt. St. Ursula or LaGuardia (the "Fame" school) you need to take entrance exams or put together a portfolio.
THEN you list the schools you want in order of preference- up to 12 of them- hand in this application to your 8th grade guidance counselor, and sometime in the spring you will know where you were accepted.
Sounds oddly familiar to something *I* had to do, too... AS A SENIOR IN HIGH SCHOOL APPLYING TO COLLEGE!
I mean, am I remembering it wrong, because I did not have to go through all this crap. All you other NYers out there correct me if I'm wrong, but it was pretty much one test for specialized HS, one test for Catholic schools, and an audition if you wanted LaGuardia. For everyone else, you just went to your zone school.
Why does it have to be all complicated when it's MY daughter's turn to go?
I tell you what, this application BS is for the birds... when it comes time to apply for college, I'm gonna just let her father handle it... (yeah, right... he can't be trusted to make such an important decision like that w/out me!)
*smooches...wondering why I can't just have a peaceful, quiet existence*
----------
what did I do in my past lives to deserve this much chaos???
Some of you out-of-towners might not understand what I'm going through over here because chances are there are like three high schools in your hometown, and depending on where you live that's where you go to school.
Well, not in NYC. Here you have the option of attending ANY school regardless of location, and in order to attend the school of your choice you might have to audition (for performing arts schools) or take a test (for specialized & catholic & prep schools) or have an interview (for screened programs). And then you have to have the grades and test scores and go to open houses and OMG! I think I just burst a blood vessel near my temple...
It all starts in 7th grade- your marks from that year will determine where you can get in. That's the year you also get the NYC High Schools Directory- 584 pages of information on everything you could ever want to know about every-freakin-school within City limits. It's the size of the Staten Island yellow pages, for real.
So you have to go through this book and look at the schools you like and determine if, from the school's POV, you'd be a good candidate. THEN you have to attend these HS fairs and speak with reps from all the schools. THEN you have to schedule an interview and attend the school's open house and guided tour.
THEN, depending on whether you're going to Mt. St. Ursula or LaGuardia (the "Fame" school) you need to take entrance exams or put together a portfolio.
THEN you list the schools you want in order of preference- up to 12 of them- hand in this application to your 8th grade guidance counselor, and sometime in the spring you will know where you were accepted.
Sounds oddly familiar to something *I* had to do, too... AS A SENIOR IN HIGH SCHOOL APPLYING TO COLLEGE!
I mean, am I remembering it wrong, because I did not have to go through all this crap. All you other NYers out there correct me if I'm wrong, but it was pretty much one test for specialized HS, one test for Catholic schools, and an audition if you wanted LaGuardia. For everyone else, you just went to your zone school.
Why does it have to be all complicated when it's MY daughter's turn to go?
I tell you what, this application BS is for the birds... when it comes time to apply for college, I'm gonna just let her father handle it... (yeah, right... he can't be trusted to make such an important decision like that w/out me!)
*smooches...wondering why I can't just have a peaceful, quiet existence*
----------
what did I do in my past lives to deserve this much chaos???
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