Occupy Wall Street

I have yet to go down to Occupy Wall Street. I guess I have been trying to solidify why I would go before going; I want to make sure I understand my own stance in relation to others and I want to be able to articulate that stance intelligently before placing myself in the public sphere. Maybe it's too calculated for most, but in my pragmatic mind that's just how things work.

But as I have negotiated my personal angle on this, a few photos on facebook--posted by friends and family--have pushed me solidly into believing that I *do* agree with the protests and, to use the Occupy Wall Street creed, I *am* part of the 99%. These photos are above.

What really strikes me about these personal diatribes that folks feel the need to post is the immense lack of critical thinking skills in their words. Yes, I understand that you busted your ass in college and worked four jobs to pay for it because SO DID I. Yes, I understand that you live below your means because SO DO I. Oh, but your solution to massive unemployment and a tanking economy is for all the unemployed in the country to work at McDonald's or pick crops in Alabama? You think it's that simple? And, obvious in your statements, you assume others haven't worked their asses off to get where they are, even if where they are currently is laid off, or under a pile of debt, or homeless? You think that some folks have a fall from the middle class grace they were trying to climb into?

Dig deeper my friends.

I will occupy Wall Street because I know that I have lived a privileged life. I came from two middle class parents who worked their way up into the middle upper class. My dad was college educated and employed my whole life; my mom had an at home daycare b/c she did not have the same education. We always owned our modest houses in safe communities. I have never been without clothing, food, shelter, two parents, and a good to great school. I am White. I have many class privileges and race privilege in an incredibly classist and racist society. I realize that there are structures in place in society that make it harder for others who have not had my sort of life to succeed. Amid a recession, those structures are even more discriminatory. Although I am not suffering currently (knock on wood), I realize many people are.

I have seen and worked within classist and racist structures as an educator. I would NEVER send my own children to the high school where I taught for ten years--a school full of poor Black and Hispanic kids that struggled with test scores, attendance, and school violence--but I worked HARD to try to catch my students up (academically and socially) so they could function in the mainstream--White, middle class--world and break the cycle of poverty they were born into. A few kids are able to break it, but most are not.

You think if you were in the situations that plague the bottom of the 99%, you'd be able to pull yourself up by your bootstraps? You think living in a homeless shelter your freshman and sophomore year, coming to school in dirty clothes b/c your clean ones were stolen while you slept, being hungry all the time b/c you can't eat breakfast at the shelter b/c you leave for school before it's served and travel one hour by subway only to get to high school after the free school breakfast is served wouldn't derail your upward mobility? Add a variety of factors to that, like uneducated parents, incarcerated parents, dead parents, fear of being shot at in your neighborhood after dark, not having a washing machine to wash your clothes, not having a winter coat, not going to the doctor, not attending any sort of pre-school...I mean the list is endless when it comes to the obstacles faced by the truly poor in our country. You think you could overcome such obstacles? Maybe you could. Most likely you couldn't.

It doesn't sound like either of these folks with these signs faced those obstacles.

It doesn't seem like they are able to see beyond their own experience.

I will always remember the shame I felt--as an American--the first time I traveled to Bushwick, Brooklyn, for my first teaching job in 2000. Bushwick, at the time, was the neighborhood you were "most likely to be shot at random" according the The New York Times. I rode the B39 bus from downtown Brooklyn through Fort Greene, Clinton Hill, Bed-Stuy, and into Bushwick. When I got off, I was shocked. There was trash all over the streets, prostitutes still lingering at 7:30am, crack vials and needles and dog shit all over the ground, boarded up houses with sketchy folks standing in their doorways, empty lots with burnt out cars, mattresses, trash piles heaped up taller than me. I had arrived in Third World America. Most folks like me (read White and middle upper class) will never see that. Everyone should.

I will go to Occupy Wall Street for the bottom of the 99%. I have been lucky in this life. Although statistically speaking I am part of the 99%, I will go because there are others whose lives are so complicated by poverty and race and the solution is not for them to get a job at McDonalds or to become a migrant worker. If only it were that simple. And those folks are most likely not at Wall Street because they're working three jobs, or struggling to find decent daycare, or waiting in an emergency room because they had a miscarriage and don't have a doctor...The options are endless. But if you see me at Wall Street, it will be because I am there for them. I want there to be more options in our country than McDonald's and migrant farming for many of my students.

The inability of many Americans to see this and to care about anyone besides themselves is, and will continue to be, the cancer of our society.

Our Big Fat Gay Wedding

We attended our first gay wedding this weekend. This was Alexandra's second wedding this summer, and she looked forward to both Jen & Mary's and Sam & Maddy's with great anticipation. She was excited to wear a dress, to dance, to eat cake, and to go on "vacation" with us and have adventures. All week leading up to the wedding she kept asking, "Are we going to the wedding today?" and making statements like "Jen & Mary are going to be so so so pretty in their dresses!" Never once did it even occur to her that Jen & Mary's desire to marry each other was anything to bat an eyelash about.

There is something so amazing about that innocence and her lack of understanding that many folks do not think that Jen & Mary should have the rights and benefits that come with the legalization of their union. To Alexandra, the fact that our neighbors and friends were in love and wanted to get married was no different than mommy or daddy getting married or from the wedding she attended in August. She just wanted details on the car we were renting to get there, what type of cake there would be, and the color of Jen's dress and Mary's suit (after I explained to her that I had never seen Mary in a dress and that some girls didn't like/want to wear dresses, she easily accepted that Mary would wear a suit). The fact that Jen & Mary are both girls? No big deal.

The wedding was beautiful and, no surprise here, just like every union of two wonderful people that we have ever attended. I cried during their vows, got chills during their super cute choreographed first dance, and saw so many parts of their wedding that I wish we had done (great idea: a big picture frame hung between trees as a "photo booth" for all the guests to go pose in as wedding documentation--brilliant!). We danced until Alexandra started to fade (Nico had passed out in the Ergo despite my booty shaking), and we slowly traipsed back to our hotel room looking at the stars that elude us here in Brooklyn.

We didn't bring any books in from the car, so I told Alexandra a story as she fell asleep. I told her that one day, she'd have a wedding and we would all come. That we would eat cake and dance all night and be happy with all her friends and our friends. I told her that she could marry whomever she wanted and we would support her choices and love her (I decided to save the "as long as s/he isn't a total douche" addendum for later), and that she'd always be our baby girl. As she looked at me with her dark chocolate eyes, I don't think she realized the layers of meaning in my story of her future, but it would be just lovely if some of it would sink in and, in her mind, she would never feel the need to question the validity of Jen & Mary's wedding versus anyone else's.

Experience Necessary

Blah blah blah money blah blah blah.

I feel like that's been my life lately.

But last Sunday, in our cute little cabin in New Paltz, we listened to a NPR show about how money can make you happy, but it depends on WHAT and HOW you spend it as to how much happiness you experience. Fascinating story, and the same woman from the NPR show is featured in this article in the Times that my friend Julia posted on Facebook last night.

The main point I took away from this article is that you should spend you money on planned experiences and things that bolster human relationships rather than material items (a new couch, for example) because those things foster long term happiness mainly through memories. Such simple words, but so true. Some things you can't put a price on.

For example: The undergraduate debt that I am so close to paying off (I think I have about $3000 left) is mainly from my year abroad in France. That year cost triple or more than a regular year at UNC, but it formed me into the person I am today on so many levels I can and cannot measure. It birthed my love for travel, alone and with others and my love for cities, which led me to NYC and my life today. The friends and memories I have from that year pretty much define my adult life. I'd probably pay $200/month the rest of my life if I had to to have had that experience.

See also Kat & Eric's wedding in Mexico, my solo trip to India post-miscarriage, my summer in West Africa, and even last week's vacation--all of which I/we couldn't really afford to take but did anyways.

For some reason that article provided me with a moment of peace about our life. I'd rather live in an 800 square foot 1 bedroom apartment and have these city experiences and mini-vacations than live in a huge house with a gigantic mortgage and two name-brand cars, even if that means we have no solid long term investments. I hope to look back on my life and see a richness of people and places; I feel we're doing a good job at that right now.

(Photo of fishing net in cochi, india--where I was four years ago this month. How awesome is that?)

Manscaping

We're back from vacay and I'll post about it throughout this week, but I wanted to sneak in a quick post today about manscaping which was bought up hilariously on last week's "Entourage" in a conversation between Vince, Johnny Drama, and Turtle.

FYI: Manscaping is the act of keeping male body hair under control. It could mean a back wax or it could mean trimming/waxing/shaving/maintaining the hair down there. There are various degrees of manscaping, from those who get the BBB wax (balls/back/butt) to those who just go for a trimmy-trim to the various regions of male hair growth. Regardless, as Johnny Drama said, "It's 2010--you've got to manscape."

There are so many male:female double standards in this world, but I stand firm on the belief that men need to manscape. Why must I subject myself to getting my nether-regions waxed by my monosyllabic Russian lady when my partner can grow a chia pet? Why is an errant hair growing out of my armpit disgusting when he can have three inches of armpit hair caked with deodorant clumps? Seriously, world. I may still make 80 something cents to every dollar my husband makes (and that's pretty much true as we compared Social Security statements last night), but if I'm going to groom so is he.

And my opinions were justified by the brief but illuminating discussion on "Entourage" (August 8th episode). I have never really had a fondness for the LA area and its obsession with celebrity, cars, and plastic surgery, but if LA is where it's at for the manscaping movement, then LA, I love you.

The Little Things

I am on a mission to get in shape--tired of the "baby fat" lingering when the baby is now 10 months old (!!!!!). So today I went to spin class. There was this skinny, uber hot girl in front of me. She was tan, had on a cute workout outfit that matched well, had cute jewelry on, hair in a pretty bun and I was set to stare at her perfectness for a 45 minute class. I was betting her butt wouldn't even jiggle a tad during sprints.

But then she lifted up her tank top to tuck it into her sportbra (of course, to show off her gorgeous muscular lower back that didn't have an ounce of backfat on it) and her lower back had a HUGE patch of hair on it! HAIR! BLACK HAIR! It looked like it had been waxed and was growing out, but it was gross. And hairy. And suddenly she looked a bit like a transvestite.

Now there's something to be thankful for. I might have a muffin top at present, but it is a naturally hairless one. Praise the Lord and pass that girl some Nair. Nobody's perfect.

Get Over It

I love my nabe, but every so often the folks here just drive me bonkers with their "Oh, I'm so liberal and loving and that's just wrong!" (gasp, sob, snot) and then they go treat the checkout person at Barnes and Noble like they're chopped liver. I swear, the hypcrocy is out. of. control.

Example 1: A month or so ago a woman posted on Park Slope Parents that their new nanny, who had been employed for four weeks, had been found sleeping on the job five times. When confronted as to why she was sleeping the nanny replied, "I'm bored." The woman posted that she didn't know what to do. I replied to her (and the listserv) to fire that nanny and get one who doesn't sleep/find watching a child a bore. You would have think I told her to sew the nanny's eyelids open--the responses were enraged and accusatory. "I am appalled at your callousness! I find my own children boring! I'm tired." Whatever. Maybe I am callous, but in any other job if you were caught sleeping five times in one month and told your employer you were asleep b/c you were bored, you would be fired. Period. Grow and pair and fire that nanny.

Example 2: The oil spill. I am still in such shock that the oil spill/eruption in the Gulf has provided the world with a platform for whining about the environment without doing anything real about it. The cost of gas has not gone up, SUVs still dominate the road,and nothing has changed. All I have to say to those sitting around whining about the birds and the wetlands is shut the f*ck up if you're whining and you have an SUV which you drive around a city that has excellent public transportation. Seriously. I saw a LandRover the size of a tank in my 'hood yesterday with one person in it. Just plain wrong. Go jump in the Gulf and cover yourself with tarballs. I'm sick of you.

Example 3 (and what sparked this tirade): The geese in Prospect Park. There's been lots of moaning over the mass euthanization of 400 geese in Prospect Park last week. The neighborhood is up in arms over it. But I bet if you compared the folks in Park Slope to say the folks in Brownsville (or any less affluent neighborhood) that people here fly about 100x more (the geese were killed to avoid goose/plane collisions like the plane that landed in the Husdon). I don't want the senseless killing of animals any more than the next guy, but I also don't want my plane to crash b/c of some geese. You can't have it all--nature, an urban environment, and two of the largest airports in the country. Suck it up.

Man, I am pissy today. And I haven't even had my coffee! Guess those two tantrums Alexandra threw at 3am and 4am have already gotten to me. ROAR!

Pro Soccer Players & Three-Year Olds

I decided today, while watching the World Cup final game, that professional soccer players are pretty much the emotional equivalent of a three year old. Alexandra has completely changed since she turned three. I know she has only been three for three weeks and there was some build up to this change, but honestly--on her birthday--she morphed into an emotional, whiny, baby-ish child who is completely intolerable at times because her responses to situations make. no. sense. She is just like a World Cup Soccer Player. Let me illustrate:

1. FALLING & WHINING/CRYING LIKE A BABY: When she was two, Alexandra could take a fall like a professional stuntman. Seriously, she'd have trips and spills that would make the bottom of my feet tingle with fear and she's buck up, brush it off, and walk/run away. But not now. The smallest bump, tumble, or tap elicits a full-blown freak out of tears, snot, and screams. I must kiss the boo-boo and often band-aid it. It's ridiculous.

These soccer players are big ol' babies. I know they're acting to get a foul called on the opposing team, but Jesus Christo guys, you've got shin guards on. If someone kicks your shin, don't lay on the ground moaning like he just ripped your man parts from your body. It is so annoying to watch. Seriously. I fully understand why folks think soccer is a game for punks. They look like three year old crybabies out there.

2. LOOKING TO MOMMY/DADDY/REFEREE TO SEE IF THEY'LL GET IN TROUBLE: As soon as Alexandra does something she's not supposed to do--like rip a toy out of Nico's hands or directly defying me--she'll look over at me to see my response to gauge how she should respond. If I give her the teacher eye of "You're gonna get it" = immediate tears, throwing herself limp onto the ground, and full Oscar-winning hysterics. If I ignore her, she usually does it again later. Yes, it's just another day in paradise around here.

And yet not much has changed when you look at the soccer field. These players do insanely dirty things, and then they look at the ref to see if he saw it, and if he did then they throw a mantrum (man-tantrum) with their arms flailing, teammates holding back their testosterone-y player, and furrowed brows and yelling mouths. If they get away with dirty soccer, they just continue to play dirty soccer.

3. IMMEASURABLE ATTEMPTS TO GET AWAY WITH PLAYING DIRTY: And this leads me to my last point. Alexandra would put Nico in a headlock "hug," cover the couch with wet washcloths, and use yogurt as fingerpaint on the table all day long every day if she could. And she tries and tries again. That girl has the persistence of a worker ant when it comes to pushing the boundaries of what is legal/allowed in the house under the definition of good behavior.

And those soccer players, too. They are relentless when it comes to getting in that shove, kick, head-butt--you name it--on the other team. They are quite sneaky. And mean. It's pretty crazy once you start looking for it because it is always there. It is like they have no impulse control; they just have to be bad if they can.

In conclusion, professional soccer players are pretty much three year olds in the bodies of grown (very sexy) men (with unbelievable quad muscles and who look amazing all sweaty...). As annoying as they are, the World Cup is still my favorite spectator sporting event. Looking forward to those mantrums and dirty playing again in 2014--when I'm 40--holy sh*t!

Student Metrocards

This week it was decided to slowly phase out the student metrocards here in New York City. For you guys unfamiliar with school transportation here, after elementary school there is really no such thing as zoned schools like in the suburbs. Well, there are, and if you're in a good zone you're psyched, but for a lot of this city if you're in a zone where the middle and high schools are less than appealing you try to get out and into schools in other parts of your borough or the city at large. You escape from your zone school by taking middle and high school entrance exams and your grades. These exams are no joke. There are cram schools, books, and tutors who specialize in getting your kid to pass the high school entrance exam (the Stuyvesant Exam) here in NYC. I swear, getting into Harvard might be easier.

But even for those kids who don't make it into the four top high schools of the city, getting out of your 'hood and into a different environment is important to them and their families. For example, the school where I teach. I work in Cobble Hill, at Cobble Hill School of American Studies. Cobble Hill is a very nice neighborhood. The two main streets are lined with expensive boutiques and restaurants, the brownstones (even ones in need of gut renovation) start at a million dollars, and the elementary schools are excellent. It's the safest precinct in Brooklyn as Cobble Hill was the first neighborhood to house the Italians when they left Little Italy in Manhattan, and all the mafioso grand-daddies are still there. It's beautiful--I can't afford to live there.

However the high school in Cobble Hill where I teach is less than okay. I would never let my kids go there. The test scores are low, the students enter reading at approximately a 4th grade level, and we have a lot of fights. We became a metal detector school this year. The students are lovely kids, and I work with some incredible educators, but we have no art teacher, few extracurriculars, and it's just not the environment I want my kids to have their high school experience in.

So who goes to this school? NOT the kids in Cobble Hill. The students come from Red Hook, Fort Greene, Clinton Hill, Bed-Stuy, East New York, Carnarsie, Sunset Park, Coney Island, and Bushwick. They commute to our school on multiple trains and buses, some for over an hour, just so they can escape their zone school and come to school in a safer neighborhood.

Keep in mind that over 80% of my students live below the poverty level.

Students currently receive free metrocards to come to school each day. They are assigned these metrocards in the beginning of the school year; they get three swipes each school day between the hours of 5:30am and 8:30pm which allows for them to get to an extracurricular activity or job afterschool. Currently the cost of a swipe to get on a bus or subway is $2.25, which make the metrocard valued at $6.75 per school day, about $34 a week, about $135 a month or $1280 for the school year (180 days of school).

Now you tell me, if a kid can't afford to eat lunch, wash his/her clothes, or is living in a shelter (common issues in my school) are they going to be able to pay that money to get to school? Hell, no.

Guess the city isn't THAT worried about their graduation rates after all.
(article in the Times on this situation)

National Walk to School Month

I'm listening to the NPR program "The TakeAway" which I find simultaneously annoying (why does John Hockenberry insist on trying to be so clever?) and informative. Right now they are talking about October being National Walk to School Month. Fascinating conversation.

Of course they are debating child obesity, as well as the over-exaggerated fear of child-snatchers...But I guess what's really stopped kids walking to school is individuals' love for their cars--even in suburban areas where there are schools close-by and sidewalks line the streets from house to school.

I walked to school from kindergarten until 9th-ish grade, when it then became too uncool to stroll into high school and we had Jen Osborne's mom drive us in her red sports car, Jen and I smooshed into the front bucket seat and singing along to Heart or some other glam rock band. I only took the bus once, when we moved to NC at the end of 11th grade and we literally lived so far away from the school that it was impossible to walk, and that had to be the most humiliating time of my life. I contemplated begging the White Trash boy who lived in the cul-de-sac across from our house in our still-being-built neighborhood to drive me in his Camaro, but I didn't have the guts and I feared what the association with him would do for my future reputation at my new school. The longest months of my adolescent life were those at the end of 11th grade on that cheese bus. Potential social suicide.

On the contrary, I have so many fond memories of walking to school in elementary and middle school: In kindergarten my mom had arranged a car pool for me, but I told her I was going to "walk with the big kids" and set off with them at 5 years old. Being late to school b/c after a good rain I'd pick up the worms stranded on the sidewalk and toss them into the grass to save them from death. Stopping by the Hop In convenience store after middle school with Robyn or Heather to load up on sugar and chips. Walking by a boy's house you had a crush on by "accident." When Ms. Welke saw me litter walking home in 7th grade, stopped me and drove me back to my Coke bottle and made me pick it up (I have honestly never littered since!)...The list is endless.

It makes me sad to think that kids don't really walk to school anymore. . .Is it really true? Anyone have kids who walk to school?

Texting & Driving

Did you all see this when it circulated around facebook a few days back?

I finally got around to watching it tonight. Pretty intense, but I really hope it gets used in high schools.

As someone who lost one of her best friends when I was 16 from a guy (our friend, ironically, who had my quasi-boyfriend and her boyfriend in the car with him) driving 55 in a 25 on his way to school, I can say that this PSA is pretty gruesome yet true to life. I can't imagine how reckless high school drivers must be now, with cell phones, ipods, and all other devices at their fingertips while driving. And it's not just teenagers, either. Adults, whom you think would exercise a bit more precaution, are just as stupid.

Is it crazy to say that one reason I want to raise my kids in NYC is so they won't be driving? It's true.

Hope this PSA gets around to schools and driver's ed classes. As of today in NY, it's illegal to text and drive. Can't believe they had to make a law about that and it's not just common sense.