Last Night

On the last night of my four years as an undergraduate student, I find myself sitting by myself on a street corner, waiting for a bus to come around and take me home.

The bus would never come.

After chatting over the phone with an old friend, I start walking past the bus stop, and chat idly with a fellow bus-patron, also waiting patiently (more patient than me) for our transportation.

I find out that Gokuhl is from India, studying here in Delaware for his masters in Hotel, Restaurant, and Institutional Management. We start out discussing the bus and its very late schedule. We make our way to India and America, and his opinions on the two. I find out Gokuhl is a foreigner who absolutely loves everything America has to offer, its land rife with opportunity and ambition; this is reassuring to me, someone who is gravely worried about the state of our nation, viewed through the eyes of outsiders.

We decide to ditch the bus and walk back to our neighborhoods together, since we're heading in the same direction, and we doubt we will encounter any other reasonable company for the remainder of the time waiting for the bus (which never actually came).

On our walk back, Gokuhl and I discuss the problems we have with the American Woman, international relations, and racism, a topic I tend to gravitate towards. I hate that racism exists in our country, and, although I can't put my fingers around a specific cause, I am committed to the cause for stopping it altogether. Gokuhl had an interesting take on racism: that it should be accepted by all that it is inherent and innate within/among all of us, that we are all appealing to the differences we have with people around us, and that it should be viewed as a reflection of our society and our people.

This is a view I've never really discussed before. Is racism so common these days that it can be blamed outright on society itself? Is there nothing we can do to prevent or deter people in our society for having this predicament and this predilection towards racism and racist remarks? As I sit here, on the night before my graduation, this is what is running through my mind. This is what I need on graduation for the conferral of my degree, the state of mind that will be conferred along with my diploma, into my life as an educator and as someone who appreciates us all for who we are - individuals and Americans.

The Past Four Years: A Look Back

Today, as I was running along the James F. Hall Trail here in Newark, Delaware, observing the towering green trees, their branches drooping over the path, I started thinking about how far I've come over these past four years of college.

The song was "You Never Know" by Dave Matthews Band. The lines,
"I find it hard to explain
How I got here
I think I can I think I can
but then again I will falter...
dream"
made me look up at the sky, trying to discern what the order of the clouds meant, each one blending into one another, the sun trying to peek its way through, like the light seeping through the window shades as night gives way to morning.

As I saw this effluence of light, I was transported to my state of mind four years prior. Instead of running four miles three times a week, while listening to the joyful noise of Dave on my iPod, my only exercise in Albany, New York, was my two-mile treks to Stuyvesant Plaza, where I would visit The Book House or Starbuck's, while listening to the soulful sounds of Jonny Lang on my CD player, looking at Po Bronson's self-help book, What Should I Do With My Life?, for any answers it could give, and observing jovial friends, strangers, mingle over a cup of coffee.

I was in a different world back then: overweight, depressed, gloomy like the foreboding skies and weather forecasts that abounded in Albany. I used to listen to that sadness-laden music, and read those self-help, life-inspiring books, as if the troubles they told of were my own.

Now after three years living in Delaware, knowing what I should do with my life, I can take those depressing texts--the songs, movies, books, for which sadness is a theme--and channel that sadness into a positive process of finding a way out. As a teacher, I can educate others through these texts that explore these types of themes, that the end justifies the means, that we are here to pursue happiness, and that one day it will come, and having that knowledge is all we need to get us through each day with the hope that that one day will come, and on that day, the sun will shine through the clouds right down upon us, where each of us is standing, basking in the glory of our lives.

A Toast to My Major

Here's a toast that I gave last night at my English Education Graduation Ceremony:

Tuesday has always been our day.

We first came together on a Tuesday: sixteen faces, some familiar and some not, looking to figure out exactly how we were going to teach in only a few months. And here we are eight months later, on our final Tuesday: sixteen certified friends and (almost) certified teachers coming together to commemorate our accomplishments in student-teaching over these months.

We've certainly encountered hardships along the way, but we've had the benefit of a trusted guide: Deb Alvarez. Dr. Alvarez, whom we have fondly renamed Alvie, has been with us through all the debacles and triumphs, giving us meaningful advice that has helped us through our first experiences truly teaching teenagers the art of the English language.

Nestled in our alcove of 107 Memorial, we came together as a family, supporting one another with open ears, open arms, and open mouths (for those weekly snacks).

Dr. Alvarez taught us crazy methods, entertaining us with experiences that were both horrifying and hilarious, but which always contained a lesson at the end. It was almost as if our class, by itself, was one of Dr. Alvarez's anecdotes: we were an allegory for the entire teaching profession, huddled inside Plato's cave, peering our inexperienced heads out, trying to discern what the shadows on the wall meant.

The fire in our cave continued to burn brighter into the spring semester, and the shadows slowly became shapes. Standing here now, in the highlight of our experiences, we can finally understand what Dr. Alvarez was teaching all along; we have become enlightened.

Now it is our time to leave Tuesday behind, to go out into the world and keep that fire burning. We must present our lives to our students, offering them shadows to figure out with our support. We must strive to enlighten. I think Taylor Mali says it best, and I want to leave each of you gambrinous, pusillanimous, zucchetto-wearing whipjacks with his wisdom. When asked "What Teachers Make," he says with conviction: "I make a goddamn difference! What about you?" Congratulations: this is a profession rich in rewards, and I wish you all the best.

My Senior Will

I taught my 12th grade class for the last time last Monday. I wanted to go out on a good note and do an activity that kind of summed up everything I've taught them this semester. So, I decided on a summative activity, where I had the students reflect on the themes of the works we've read and then write their own senior will. This turned out to be an activity they loved, one that showed their power as writers and as thinkers (they're a deep group!)

I wrote a senior will of my own, since, as I shared with them, I am a graduating senior as well! Here it is:

The first theme I’d like to write about is overcoming racial divides. One of the most deplorable characteristics of our country is its disposition towards racism and prejudicial biases. We all need to get together as one, as Americans, whether black, white, yellow or brown. We saw this theme of overcoming racial divides in The House of Sand and Fog with the Behranis trying to assimilate into the culture of the US. In my own life, I try to bridge the gaps between the races in this country by accepting everyone I meet and influencing everyone I meet to be as acceptant as I am.

The second theme I chose to write about is excessive pride. Pride is the #1 fault of this country, and we are all to blame. I mean, who doesn’t want to be proud of accomplishments and skills? I certainly am. But, in spite of this, I try not to let pride get the best of me. One of my favorite quotes is from the ancient philosopher, Boethius, who advises, “If then you are master of yourself, you will be in possession of that which you will never wish to lose, and which Fortune will never be able to take from you.” I try to be myself, and not succumb to fortune or excessive pride. We saw pride in Paradise Lost and Gulliver’s Travels, but it is a theme found in many texts we read and movies we see, often acting as the fatal flaw of the main character.

I, Mr. Weston, being of sound and disposing mind and memory, on Monday, April 30, 2007, do make and publish this, my senior Will:

I give, devise, and bequeath to my parents, Mr. & Mrs. Weston, the following: unconditional love and support, equal custody of all my accomplishments and successes, and unending gratitude for their support these four years, plus two epic tailgates and countless needed visits to Delaware.

I give, devise, and bequeath to my roommates Matt Hayes, Matt Nilssen, and Dan Wanger, the following: dance parties in the fourth floor of Harter, throwing pizza at windows, bouncing the ball off The Dude in the Towers, breaking bread at the “fashion don’ts” parties, 351 Apt. #1 & 2 and its yellow couch covers, bread in the oven, garbage couch, and overall good times.

I give, devise, and bequeath to my sister, Amanda Weston, the following: my ridiculous sense of humor and ridiculously good taste in music, movies, and television (including the following: Dave Matthews Band, 24, Arrested Development, etc.); our recent tradition of Dave Matthews Band concerts, including last summer when we were 7 rows from the stage; and the tolerance and respectfulness that is making her into a really good, respectable person.

I give, devise, and bequeath to my English Education (XEE) friends at the University of Delaware, the following: hardcore support, 3:30 at Grotto’s every Friday, shoulders to lean on, ears for listening to any and all complaints, and constant laughs with Alvie in 111 Memorial.

I give, devise, and bequeath to Dr. Theilacker, the following: the immense support and mentoring I needed to get me where I am, the encouragement to help start me on my career, and the knowledge of everything teaching and everything English.

I give, devise, and bequeath to Pat Armetta, my boss and good friend, the following: instilling in me the desire to work hard and be successful, the opportunity to manage a business and learn the importance of business ethics, and the overall desire to help and support others.

I give, devise, and bequeath to Jeremy Whiteman and Meg Rector, the following: endless good times working at Trabant Delivery, you guys made that hassle of a job into a fun time to get together with friends; concerts, seeing Kristen and the Noise (an excellent performer) and Martin Sexton; and the unending support of two good friends.

I give, devise, and bequeath to Isaac Ramaswamy, the following: the strong belief in the success of others; the desire to help others, even with nothing to gain for yourself other than the joy of seeing someone else succeed.

I give, devise, and bequeath to everyone else I have met at the University of Delaware; my friends back home in Long Island; my students at Howard High School; and my cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents across the board, the following: my unending love and eternal gratitude for always being there for me and supporting me in all my endeavors. This, and all of the future, is for all of you.

Reflect on the Lake

The room is inviting, but intimidating. I sit, my suit neatly pressed and my resume polished and printed, my fingers interlocked, sweat building on the insides of my palms, waiting for someone, anyone, to call my name.
The secretary, Sandy, the most standard clerical name I can think of, keeps stealing me glances and smiles. She is the most kind face I have seen so far, waiting for my interview.
As I'm waiting, engaging in quiet, polite conversation with Sandy about the greatness of the University of Delaware, I keep glancing up at the clock, watching the minute-hand pass by laboriously on the clock, as if, in its place, there were Lilliputians trying to move the Great Man-Mountain from one place to the next.
Finally, I hear "Jonathan" and immediately rise, stick out my hand, and greet my caller, as if this response was designed by Pavlov himself.
The rest is a daze, a battlefield of questions being shot at me, with the immediate despair brought about upon encountering their much bigger, much better army.
I am left with no solutions, no closure, grasping for any ounce of solace a kind patron might throw my way.

Looking for answers all afternoon, I finally decide it's time to get out of the house, get a fix (coffee) and drive to the one place I can think of that makes sense at the moment.
Walter C. Dunham came to Lake Ronkonkoma in 1955 with the purpose of educating the community that was growing out of this lake-resort town.
He would then become the first superintendent of Sachem School District, one that would grow to become one of the biggest in New York State.
This lake is a reflection of the sun which looks down upon it, but also of anyone who looks upon it for its sheer beauty. It is a home to millions--both those creatures and animals that live in it and the people who inhabit the area around it. I want to be able to walk up to the lake, dip my feet in the water, look down at my reflection, and see me smiling back at me.

Walter C. Dunham came to this area for a reason. He saw something special, something different in the people who trod upon its soil. And he wanted to give the best thing he could offer to them--a good public education. As I sit here, looking at my reflection bounce of the lake's surface, right along with the sun's rays, I want to do the same.