After leaning back, One must lean forward.

So much can change in four years.

I remember Election Day Eve 2006, as a senior at the University of Delaware. We decided to hold an Election Day Eve party at our apartment because the entire school had off the following day. We told everyone to dress in either red or blue. The party was a huge hit.

I remember watching the numbers come in the following day, excited that "my party" had come in with many gains--after losing in the Presidential election in the previous cycle. The cable news channels were aflutter with eager Democrats, including names that I was only hearing for the first time, like Barack Obama and Rahm Emanuel, names that would affect the next four years of my life, without my knowing it.

Fast forward to Election Day Eve 2010. A man who was elected governor of New York in 2006 on the coattails of national Democrats, Eliot Spitzer, once mired in political scandal (around the 2008 election cycle), is sitting with a lovely journalist cohost on CNN, making his predictions for tomorrow's "Republican Rout" while I watch him on the treadmill at the gym, listening to Cat Stevens' "Peace Train."

So much can change in four years.

In prior years, I voted for a myriad of reasons, none all too rational. In 2004 I voted because I was so anti-Bush it was scary. I believe that man turned me into a Democrat. I watched every primary and caucus result that year to see which Democrat could beat the man I loathed as our President. That's a lot of liberal lingo. In 2006, I was still riding that Democratic wave, angry that Kerry lost, but voting absentee, I didn't see the value in my vote, and just wanted to have an excuse for a party.

I was glued to the Presidential election in 2007 and 2008, now as a teacher obsessed with equality, racism, tolerance, and worried about my job in education. Therefore, I was thrilled to support Barack Obama, someone who would change the face of America as we knew it.

Now in divisive election year 2010, I am going to the polls tomorrow as an educated voter. I have seen a Democratic party that has had many legislative achievements in the past two years--and I fully support many of its leaders, including the President and most of their policies of these years especially in health care, education reform, the stimulus packages, Wall Street reform--but I am disappointed in their overall message. The Democrats and the President did a lot of explaining in 2009 when they were trying to pass the health care bill, but it wasn't the right time. More needed to be done the first ten months of the year to promote the message of health care for all, civil rights for all Americans, and why the votes and legislation on these issues are important for America, and why this SHOULD be the direction the country is going in.

Instead, the Democrats seemed to cave under their record, and with some good reason. After all, they did not create as many jobs as necessary, or decrease unemployment or the deficit. So while I have found solace in most of the work done by my elected officials over the past two years, I'm not necessarily sold. The leaders I'm voting for this year are getting my vote for the first time because I truly believe in the power of one vote, and I want to exercise that power to promote policies of human advancement that I absolutely agree with.

So here are some people I'll be voting for tomorrow:

U.S. Senators Chuck Schumer and Kirsten Gilibrand - Schumer is a major advocate for New York State, valuing human rights and education. He is a strong figure in Congress and will continue to provide his constituents and all Americans with dignified service and integrity. While Gilibrand is new, she has done nothing to dissuade me to vote for her, and I truly believe she too has the right mindset to represent New Yorkers in the Senate.

U.S. Congressman Tim Bishop - Tim has brought jobs home to Long Island and has truly represented my community in I think an exemplary way. He loves this area of eastern Long Island and votes the right way on issues that promote the advancement of Eastern Long Island. I strongly support Tim Bishop.

Ken Mangan for State Assembly and Ira Bernstein for State Senate - I will be voting for these two gentlemen because of their belief in the power of education and in the power for unionized labor. NYSUT is strong here in New York, and I am lucky to have a job that has the strength in unity and realizes the importance of its individual members. I have seen the power of unions over the past few years in improving working conditions and I will vote for these two political outsiders knowing that they will bring a different voice to the monotony of Albany.

Finally, I will not be voting for either the Democrat, Andrew Cuomo, or the Republican, Carl Paladino, for Governor. I think Paladino is unjust, irresponsible, and intolerant: he looks down on gays, Muslims, the President, probably African Americans in general, and I just don't find him rational enough to lead one of the most powerful states in the union. And I am not sold on Andrew Cuomo. He has not done enough to persuade the young Democrat like myself, who did not know his father or his time in Washington or in Albany, that he is worthy of my vote. He has simply laid low and acted like the heir to the throne, which by all intents and purposes, he is. But that's not enough for me. I have heard that he would open a Constitutional Convention if he were elected, but he hasn't been pressed on the issue. I have heard he has his hands in lobbyists' pockets and vice versa, but he hasn't been pressed on the issue. I have heard that he does NOT value unionized labor, or teachers, or education reform, and I don't know why he hasn't been pressed on the issue.

I watched the carnival of a gubernatorial debate, and the only person who wasn't a former hooker on the stage who actually made some sense was the Libertarian candidate, Warren Redlich. I don't usually see myself as the less-government Libertarian, but for whatever reason, his issues resonated with me. In addition to his "stop wasting money" slogan and general ideas on cutting down the deficit with cuts to unnecessary state programs, he DOES find the value in education. Here are some talking points that he emailed back to me, personally:
*Education is not on my list of cuts. Personally I like the voucher concept but it is not something I would try to do. Not politically viable.
*I'm not fond of our current "no administrator left behind" policy.
*Don't really like charters. Half assed voucher that doesn't work well and makes vouchers look bad.
*Biggest problem in education is not in the schools. It's everything outside them - home, parents, media etc.

It's not a lot. But it's enough to take a vote away from someone who I don't really trust, who hasn't taken the time to put himself out there to a young voter who cares about the future of this country and this state. I think it's disingenuous for a politician to assume they deserve holding high office; it should be a privilege to be elected as a REPRESENTATIVE of the people, whether it is in governing or legislating. I have seen so many missteps in politicians over the past four years, but feel comfortable in casting my vote tomorrow for people who represent me and my values for moving this country forward.

I will end this Election Day Eve rant with a montage of videos from MSNBC's latest ad-campaign, entitled "Lean Forward," as that is surely where I hope the direction of this country is headed come Wednesday morning.

RIP Pa 10/28/09

Written by my aunt Carol, in remembrance of Pa:

Thank you all for being here with us today to celebrate Dad’s life. It certainly was a life well-lived. I think that everyone who knew Dad knows what a good person he was – he loved his family, worked hard and practiced his faith – what better can be said of a man at the end of the day?
Dad was the ultimate gentleman, and a man of strong moral fiber - it might have been uncomfortable for us at times, but he taught us well – the trait was passed on to his children and in turn to his grandchildren. And it was not only his words – but his actions too – the way he lived his life, challenging each of us to be the best that we could be. He and Mom together created a caring & loving family that they were so very proud of.
His love for our mother was an inspiration to all of us and that love extended to his parents, brother, sisters, nieces and nephews – nothing made him happier than the family reunions at Liz & Bob’s and then this year when we all came to him at his Buckingham home. His special bond with his twin sister Margaret was beautiful to see.
Dad grew up in the Bronx during hard financial times. In order to help the family he joined the CCCs at the age of 17 and was sent to a state park in Virginia where he helped to build cabins, fireplaces and even a swimming pool. When World War II came along he was first stationed in Oregon and Mom followed him out there in order to be close to him. He was sent overseas and was assigned to the Pigeon Signal Corps where he used his pigeon training skills from the roofs of his Bronx apartments to help send messages behind enemy lines.
When Mom was hospitalized with TB, Dad held the family together in the best ways he could and tried never to let us know how hard it was for him.
My sisters and brother and I have so many wonderful memories of him – more than we can possibly share today. Among the memories were Boy Scout camping weekends with Jim, the Fall weekend visits to Wyndham where he taught the grandsons to golf, camping with them in New York when they had their trailer, visits to Lake Welch & Lake Sebago with Uncle Jimmy, barbequing and tossing us kids around in the water, and of course the pool on James Street, Jean remembers sitting on his lap a lot when she was little - we all remember the haircuts he gave us with the bowl on our heads (all right that is a not so fond memory). We all remember how handy he was around the house – he could patch up anything and make it work & he continued to do so at his children’s homes as well.
I also remember Dad as a protector. I will never forget the night that I was babysitting in Englewood during some troubles there when the back door opened –luckily I had put the chain on, but I was terrified. I called Dad & within minutes he was banging on the front door with baseball bat in hand. It says something about both of us that it never occurred to either of us to call the police. I instinctively turned to my Dad and he instinctively rushed to my rescue as he always did for all of us.
These last couple of years have been hard for Dad & for those of us who love him. His sudden illness & its complications kept Dad from being home with his precious Mary and took the life that he was used to away from him with shocking suddenness. And yet no words of complaint ever passed his lips. Even after Mom was gone, Dad always tried to be positive, looking forward to his visits with his girls and his son, talking golf and watching old movies with his devoted sons-in-law and spending time with all of us out in the garden with the birds and animals that he loved to watch, and singing along with the weekend entertainers. The frequent visits of Liz & his beloved sister Marge, his niece Joan and her husband Ken, Eileen Donovan who was so good to both of our parents, Father Joe, and other family members meant so very much to him and we are so grateful to all of you. One of the most impressive things about Dad was his unfailing politeness. His caregivers have told us that he never failed to thank them for their ministrations and he was well loved in the Buckingham by workers and residents alike for his sweet disposition and stoic acceptance of his situation. His dignity and courage were an inspiration to all who knew him.
His face would light up with pleasure when his cherished grandchildren came to visit – how he loved listening to their stories about work, school, their travels and their hobbies. He was so proud of all their accomplishments and talents and was always proudly rooting them on when he was still able whether it was at baseball games, school functions, grandparents days at school, plays, concerts, an Eagle Scout ceremony or a Hall of Fame dinner. His love for them was reciprocated in full.
This past year brought special joy to him with the birth of his first great-grandson, Ryan. There seemed to be a bond between them from the beginning and how he enjoyed seeing him in person & also getting to see him through the miracle of Skype! Ryan will always know how his great grandpa loved him – how lucky he is!
Over the past two years I feel that I got to know my father in a way that I never did before. I felt that I was seeing him as the sweet, loving boy he was before the war, five children and financial burdens weighed him down. They were not easy years for any of us but I wouldn’t trade the precious time spent with him for anything in the world and I know my sisters and brother all feel the same. I promised Mom that I would take care of him for her – we all did our best and I know that they are together again in heaven, happy and pain-free. Mom sent a rainbow on his last day to let us know that she was taking over now and that we can all be at peace.
“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith” 2 Timothy 4:7
You did all of that Dad, and more – now be at peace with your beloved Mary.
Goodnight Dad, sleep tight, sweet dreams, I love you.


Eulogy written by me to honor Pa:

Pa passed away 1 year 3 months and 26 days after Nana. We didn’t think he would last that long after she passed away. I think that he did it for us—his 5 kids, their 5 spouses, his 11 grandkids, and his great grandson. I think that we can’t talk about Pa without talking about the woman he loved for 67 years. Nana and Pa were always considered the core of this family. They always will be to each of us, but now the 10 kids—our parents—have to be the center of the family like Nana and Pa were. The center has shifted, but the family’s values that Nana and Pa created remain the same.
Pa had his struggles these past couple of years, but he got through them with a courage that was so inspiring to all who knew him. He always had a positive outlook on his life. Going to the nursing home and visiting him could be depressing at times, but, having had the past couple of days for reflection, I determined that his room there at the end of his life was a microcosm for all of our lives. He was able, from his room, to welcome his great-grandson, Ryan, into the world. He was able to meet a man of faith, his friend Jerry, who provided a religious and faithful outlook for Pa in the days and months of grieving over his wife’s death. He was able to make a friend at the age of 93, just when you’d think you’ve had all the friends you needed, in his roommate Vinny, who stood by him, even going over to Pa’s bed to share his excitement with his friend about the Yankees winning the pennant Sunday night. And I know that inside Pa was laughing about his crazy friend with that great bellowing laugh of his that we’ve all heard and loved.
But one thing that Pa taught me, one of so many things he always taught us throughout our lives—how to golf, how to build a rocket or a racecar, how to love your spouse unconditionally, how to be an amazing father and grandfather to all his grandkids and even their friends—one thing Pa taught me towards the end when I would come visit him in the nursing home, is to appreciate the little things in life. When I was staring out his window, as we all did when we visited him, we would take time to notice all the different birds, the different leaves that everyday we would just take for granted. But to Pa, who was debilitated, these things gave him joy and pleasure while he was suffering. A nice day was something that gave him joy while he was suffering. Seeing the beautiful birds outside his window gave him joy while he was suffering. I’m thankful for those nice days and for the birds and for having all that conversation with a man who I feel so grateful and so lucky to have had in my life for 24 years. May Pa rest in peace with our beloved Nana, always.

Subtitulo

I am constantly amazed, and I know I have written about this before but I just keep getting the feeling, by music corresponding to a specific time and place in my life.

Right now I am listening to Subtitulo by Josh Rouse, which takes me back to junior year of college. It was a beautiful fall day--one of the last 70 degree days--and I had gotten done observing at Glasgow High School, so I had some time left in my day to kill. I hopped on I-95 South and drove to Susquehanna State Park in Maryland, traversing the trails alone, stepping over orange, red, yellow and brown leaves, watching the water flow southward into the Chesapeake Bay watershed.

After a brief stop in nearby town Havre-de-Grace, I was making my way back towards campus and home in Newark, Delaware. But I decided to take backroads: routes 272 and 273, long country roads through Maryland and eventually Delaware, all the while driving 70 miles per hour with the windows down, blaring Rouse's newly released masterpiece. As Rouse sings, "It looks like love is gonna find a way, a way, a way..."

Fall Renewal

I recognize this feeling. Of relief that the dog days of summer are gone. Of a cool breeze careening past you, leaves billowing and falling in the distance. There's a rawness to autumn, an oakiness like the inside of an acoustic guitar or the bite of a glass of cabernet sauvignon. That's why, without fail, each autumn my heart pines for music that reflects this:

Florence and the Machine, "Dog Days Are Over" and "Cosmic Love"
Chris Bathgate "Serpentine"
Mumford and Sons "Sigh No More" and "Dust Bowl Dance"
Guster "Well" and "This Could All Be Yours"
Martin Sexton "Alone" and "My Faith is Gone" and "So Long Suzanna"
Neko Case "Magpie to the Morning"
Cory Chisel "Home in the Woods"
Ryan Adams "The Shadowlands"
The Swell Season "Back Broke" and "Low Rising"
Phoenix "Love Like a Sunset Part II"

In autumn I yearn for the hairs upon my neck to stick up a bit, while the red, orange, and yellow leaves crunch underneath my feet. I brace for colder temperatures while holding onto the warm rays of the sun. It is a period that invites reflection and rumination; it is a time of spiritual renewal, preparing for a time of coldness and struggle as well as celebration and happiness.

I'm ready to embrace my fall renewal.

Happiness is Unreasonable

“Beneath it all remember the innate perfection of your life unfolding. That is the secret of unreasonable happiness.” – Dan Millman, Way of the Peaceful Warrior

There are only a handful of events in this life for which I feel regret. Whenever one of these events takes place, obviously without my foreknowledge if its effects on my conscience, it invites some reflection days later, usually in the form of mind demons attacking before bed. But these mind demons are well deserved, usually, to keep me on my feet and remind me of the pitfalls in life.

It is typical that a completely euphoric and perfect day is followed by one that causes headaches and invites grey hair and early onset male pattern baldness. But these fits and starts, these ups and downs, hills and valleys are all there to remind us of the undercurrent of life, the unending journey of love and happiness we are each trying to achieve.

A bad day at work is a necessary evil of life; there to improve future days, and ensure general well-being.

Tomorrow is open school night of my fourth year. I will walk in with my suit, feeling confident that the work that I do this year will, overall, bring success to other people's kids, even if I do occasionally have days that will cause my hair to grey or fall out because of these same kids. Such is teaching!

"You have to make your own way in the classroom. You have to find yourself. You have to develop your own style, your own techniques. You have to tell the truth or you’ll be found out.” - Frank McCourt, Teacher Man

Pumpkin Spice Chess

Pumpkin spice latte runnels are swirling around the inner regions of my body as my mind floats down the lazy river propelling me towards the end of the work week.

It is Wednesday and after 3 days of interrupting, obnoxious students; spontaneous, pointless meetings; and brain-crunching planning and prepping, I could use a respite.

The Borders Books and Music in which i am reading my Herman Hesse novel is teeming with animated men and one woman playing chess. These ragtag folks are shouting in excitement as they move their pieces and ponder said moves. A man in a white turtleneck, white hat, and windbreaker screeches in an Italian-American accent that could hail from Queens. A large black gentleman with a James Earl jones voice and the whitest eyes I have ever seen, clad in a brown cowboy hat, plays a disheveled man with a cement-mixing company's t-shirt tucked into his jeans. An athletic man in mesh shorts, the youngest person here, plays a middle-aged man wearing a black sweatshirt over a dress shirt and shorts, who said he didnt make it to Port Jeff library today because he finally found work.

I am intrigued by this group who is so involved in the game, one which is so intimately personal, yet surprisingly social. They know each other and talk about Borders chess players past like Charlie who's now out at the reservation texting the turtlenecked man from Queens, "I'm surrounded by happy brown men."

I am comforted by this group who makes me forget about Ben, who has been calling out and making wisecracks in class like it's his job. Or Karl and Brendan asking the most asinine questions like "Does 'odyssey' mean peanuts?" and interrupting our discussion with the faithfully annoying, "Can I throw my garbage out?" I know, at least he asked. Then there's Krystal, who seems to forget that I hate the question, "What're we doing today?"

Yet, these nuisances have driven me out of the house, and fate has lead me here to the Bohemia Borders to observe the fine people before me.

There has been a lull in the conversation--just some quiet, nervous chuckling amid the inner pondering--ever since the lone woman said, "Well, life is short!"

Her opponent, apparently losing at the moment, said, "That's true."

No Place Like Soul

Perfectly soothing moment in time: Listening to "No Place Like Soul" album by Soulive; cool autumn breeze enveloping the room; drinking DD's pumpkin spice latte. Doesn't matter that I'm grading when I have this peaceful feeling emanating from my surroundings.

Monday-ne

That's supposed to be my super-clever pun of the words "mundane" and "Monday." Today had that feeling, like I was crawling through an Indy 500 race. Everything around me was spinning. Over the weekend, everyone asked me, "How are your classes? How are your classes?" And when I said "Good!" with a glazed look of satisfaction ("I completed one week with success!") part of me wanted to knee-jerk a superstitious knock on wood, but I didn't. I thought to myself, in the split-second interface before a knee-jerk wood-knocking would occur, that these kids really are good and I will have success this year.

Lo and behold, I had to raise my voice today for the first time in class. I actually said the words, "I don't like this class," which is probably not true and just an immediate reaction to my having to raise my voice for the first time in a long time. I found myself working through lunch and late after school to get done the work that this busy Monday called for.

After coming home and crashing on the couch, however, I awoke to a feeling of refreshment, knowing that Tuesday is a new day, and we teachers can accomplish real meaningful things. An illuminating factor was being invited to read my colleague's blog, on which a bunch of my former students discuss matters related to their English class: http://cangelosi12honors.blogspot.com/ It's nice to know the fruits of my former labors are in tact and prospering. That is reassuring.

Such is the teacher's struggle to invigorate Mondays and everydays, to hope our pupils gain knowledge and can progress. I always refer to Plato/Pythagoras by telling my students that I hope each day with me helps them "become better" somehow. And I guess in order for me to become better too, I need to be insufficient in something. So, I guess now I can effectively become better right along with my students. Neat-o gang!

Wide Awake

It's a quarter to 4 in the morning and I haven't fallen asleep yet. Time has passed rather quickly since I got into bed at 10, so maybe I have nodded off at times, but I have been tossing and turning basically the whole night. I tried to take cold medicine to make me drowsy, but that didn't work. I blame the mind demons at work. Sometimes my life is too fast, and all I want is for it to slow down, but that seems impossible given my surroundings. Sometimes I wish I could just live by myself in the woods for a day, a week, a month, a year--just to get away. But I guess all I would be doing is avoiding reality. This is a fast-paced world, and I have to run to keep up, however sluggish I feel.

Right now I feel like I'm crawling.

...

I can't sleep though i haven't tried the song i am listening to is 'life is long' and that it is. it is 1 in the morning i keep thinking about my tooth and why it feels depressed upon my gum and i don't like that. 'so stay don't go cuz i'm fading away.' i just want to move into my new condo. i think i can call it a house. house implies one's own home almost, and this is almost my home and so i will call it a house. writing this has made me become tired so i closed my eyes for the time being and am typing this with my eyes shut. 'finders keepers' is on right now. i need to find a life i'm fully happy with. i'm not at content mode 100% of the time. i wonder if anyone is. i'd like to find that person. i want to go west; it's been too long. it's not going to happen this summer and for that i am upset. i miss the mountains, the cool summer night air, the relaxed way of life. i miss hiking in the great outdoors without having to worry about the bugs not leaivng me alone. i wish i could go back............................................................................................................................fin...............ders...............kee..........pers.
'looks just like the sun'

Moonlight Illumination

In an easterly direction, my car hits the road, tires spinning in an endless rotation, like the earth upon which they roll. I am on Sunrise Highway, which bisects the southern part of Long Island and runs east to west or west to east, depending on which way you look at it. Ahead of me, as I exit the highway at midnight is not the sun, but the moon, enshrouded in streaks of grey clouds, but vibrant as a lightbulb in a vacant room at nighttime.

My mind catapults back seven summers, to a time much simpler than this, when, underneath this same moon, in this same spot on Sunrise Highway, I was enshrouded by my friends, novice drivers on our way to a midnight rendezvous at the California Diner. Youths ready to indulge in waffles a la mode (my favorite), pancakes, egg sandwiches, french fries with gravy--standard nighttime snacks for the 17-year old hollering under our resplendent orb of night.

I continued driving, however, around the bend, and northward bound towards home, leaving behind this moon and this distant memory for another time, when I will need the light above me to guide me into the future by using knowledge that I have gained over the years living under the sun...and the moon.

Cathartic Peaks

Two months have passed since my last post. I could go on about my creativity, or lack thereof, but that is the theme of every other post on here from the past two years.

Each summer is a cathartic purging for me. And since I had a moment of catharsis the night before I had a literal purging in the form of a wicked stomach virus, I am going to take this as a sign. Sometimes life gets too fast, and you just have to be reminded to slow down and start anew.

I was reminded of this on Monday night, as I climbed the steps at the Holtsville Ecology Site and Park, after running two laps around the track as the sun slowly set on the blustery, sultry, sticky Long Island surrounding me. As I reached my apex, the top of a reclaimed landfill that looks out a few miles towards Holbrook, Holtsville, Patchogue, and Farmingville, I thought of the other peaks I've reached and promontories I've stood on in my life.

In 2005 and 2006, in the midst of college, as a 20-21 year old mired in self-discovery, I would run to a promontory jutting out onto the gracefully flowing White Clay Creek, amid the White Clay Creek State Park in Delaware. There I would sit and surround myself with the mellifluous sounds of a trout stream cascading around lands empty but to other nature-seekers like myself and the park's own natural inhabitants. After a few seasons completing this run, my time on the promontory led to my acquiring Lyme's disease from a deer tick, so I decided to do away with running to the promontory, and instead ran to state borders (Delaware borders two within running distance to campus), which provided momentary excitement but not nearly the same cathartic effect.

2007 was a transition year for me; I moved back home from Delaware, started working at the snack shack at the Babylon village pool (where I would often have my cathartic moments watching the sun set on the ethereal Great South Bay, surrounded by fried oil and grease wafting in my face), and got a full-time job teaching at Sachem.

In 2008, I drove cross country , where I experienced two moments of catharsis: the first, during an early-morning half-hungover run to Lake Michigan in Chicago, one of America's beautiful skylines behind me and its most delicate of lakes reflecting that skyline in front of me.

The other moment was an earlier morning, more-westerly, less-hungover walk in the heart-stealing expanse of blue skies and mountains, the great city of Bozeman, Montana. Here, looking towards the mountains in the distance, I was overcome by the size and glory of this land, and I realized I would strive to continue conquering it.

Now many years later from these separate cathartic revelations, I am at a precipice yet again, ready to move on and climb upward in my mountainous life. Until I get to my next precipice, my next apex, promontory or peak, I am content to be where I am, watching the sunset surrounding me, reflecting on where I have been and where I am going.

Robert Pirsig put it best: “You look at where you’re going and where you are and it never makes sense, but then you look back at where you’ve been and a pattern seems to emerge. And if you project forward from that pattern, then sometimes you can come up with something.”

Can't Find the Better Man

This is the state of the world right now. Bombs are going off in the Middle East, and thankfully being put out in Times Square. Coincidentally, the father of one of my former students, Wayne Rhatigan, was one of the first on scene to make sure the Times Square bomb didn't detonate.

The courage in his actions is astounding. But it makes me think--what if he hadn't been there, and this bomb did detonate? People would be dead if it was not for Mr. Rhatigan.

I guess it's not really possible to know how many people we save daily. But think about the little things that we do that have a ripple effect in making somebody's life better. Mr. Rhatigan saw this effect directly by his actions, which he called, "All in a day's work." His actions directly affected others' and he literally saved lives that could have been lost had this bomb gone off.

I may be naive or too optimistic in thinking that in my occupation as teacher I take on a role of moral advisor in which I lay the groundwork for improving young men and women's lives for years to come. I start each year by telling my students that, like Pythagoras told his students (as recounted by Plato), in some way, I hope to--by their association with me--make each day better. That's a difficult undertaking, and it's hard to remain humble when viewing that as my goal for the day, but it also challenges me as a teacher. Is what I'm doing today for the betterment of my students? If the answer is yes, then I do believe I have succeeded.

But if I'm achieving personal and moral betterment in my classroom each day (as is my goal), how come this enrichment through association has not captured the whole world? Instead, there is vitriol riddled in every television show on TV--from the Nightly News to South Park. Bombs are still being dropped, if not on the people of New York City, who on this day in 2010 are considered the lucky ones, then on some unlucky, poor Middle Easterners who have gotten caught in a war with the most powerful country in the world.

When will it end? It is probably cliche to talk about world peace these days, but I don't understand why more people aren't talking about it. We need to rally around our everyday heroes like Wayne Rhatigan, who was just doing his job to serve and protect, but to also promote peace, to better humanity. We need to stick with associating with people who serve to make us better every day than we were on the day before.

Unbreakable Lamb

There seems a certain precariousness to springtime that is oft overlooked. After the ravaging of winter storms, blizzards, and tree-downing Nor'easters, spring quietly creeps up on us and without our noticing.

Spring is a bridge from one extreme to the other. Hope is yet in the distance in the blooming and warming of days. More people congregate outdoors, windows are open, air let in. Everything seems perfect in spring; there is a serenity even in the soft, yet sometimes steady drops of rain, like the constant rising of the sun and the moon.

Morning dew permeates our lives yet again, as do the varying colors, hues of red, green, pink, and blue.

And yet, acts of evil still render our peace-filled spring fruitless. Hope is diminished with the crash of a plane, killing 96, including world leaders.
Cancer still spreads, in the disease's physical, deadly state, and also in its figurative spread among humanity, a more violent and chaotic place every day.

So what is to get a person through? One who notices death and destruction, sadness and decay, in the face of goodness? Evil at odds with purity?

Just like summer is to follow spring, man knows he must hope that good will follow bad. It seems almost inherent for man to believe that.

ee cummings wrote about spring, and how we have the ability to make things better. It is within our power, by free will, to make things right, to hope for good even in the face of bad, to see light in a dark time, to see relief after terror. Spring is in between two extremes; it is peaceful, but I am aware of what else is going on around me. And for that, I will always strive for more--and for better.

Spring is like a perhaps hand by E. E. Cummings
III

Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere)arranging
a window,into which people look(while
people stare
arranging and changing placing
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here)and

changing everything carefully

spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and fro moving New and
Old things,while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of flower here placing
an inch of air there)and

without breaking anything.

Race to the Top

To be presented to the Second Ever congregation of the Sachem Junto on Thursday, April 1, 2010:

According to the Washington Post, “Delaware and Tennessee won the first shares of President Obama's $4 billion fund for education innovation and reform.
Delaware received 454.6 points out of 500. It has a new state law that bars educators from receiving "effective" ratings unless their students demonstrate satisfactory levels of growth. It also offers bonuses of as much as $10,000 a year for teachers and principals willing to transfer to high-needs schools. Schools in "turnaround" because of poor performance must show improvement within two years.
The state plans to send "data coaches" into schools to help teachers track student performance and target lessons where needed. The state is to begin new tests in the coming school year that will generate achievement data to help evaluate teachers and principals.”

Ezra Klein from the Post states, “Race to the Top is a $4.35 billion grant program created in the stimulus package. The short version is that the states submit proposals to improve their education system to the federal government, and if the Feds approve, the states get a pot o' money with which to implement the plan. The idea isn't just to fund public schools, but to use the promise of federal money in a time of strapped state budgets to empower reformers. New York finished second-to-last, leading Mike Bloomberg to criticize the state legislature for not lifting its cap on charter schools. "We are not going to qualify unless the state understands this," he said. And that's where the promise of the program really lies: Using the money to get the states to make legislative changes they wouldn't otherwise make, and unite stakeholders who wouldn't otherwise come together.”

Now I went to the University of Delaware, observed, student taught, and was a leave replacement at schools across the state during my tenure there. And I did notice some obvious problems in the education system. For one, in DE, kids can be bused to any school within the county, and there were very selective choices, leaving some schools in the dust. The state education department has started taking over schools in the state, and Howard, where I student taught, was on the short-list for Federal Take-over, but was passed over for 5 other schools.

An obvious concern with Race To the Top is data. In the article, they focused on how DE was going to enforce data when it came to changing what's going wrong with teachers in the classroom. I get afraid when I hear administration screaming "data" because I feel that they want teachers to teach strictly to the test, and to remind you of the dirty SpringBoard issue last year, you know I do not like teaching to the test. I'm going to be a hypocrite here for a second, however, and say that an effective teacher (or highly qualified to use some NCLB jargon) should be able to have high passing grades on any test, state-, federal-, or locally-enforced. How does R2TT enforce the latter without encouraging the former?

One thing I will say about Delaware, and my district in particular, is that they offered worthwhile professional development days. Our professional development time pales in comparison, but, to my knowledge, Delaware doesn’t have the teacher center programs like New York does.

Here’s what my friend Nicole, who is the English department chair at Howard, had to say about R2TT: “In regard to Race to the Top Funds, the jury is still out. Delaware wrote a lot into its grant, and very little of it was actually fleshed out at the time of submission--such as how to handle teacher accountability under the new DPAS II system--but every district acknowledged that the money was a necessary evil when considering the extreme budget crisis the State is currently facing. I am not in a position to comment on it yet, as I try not to jump to conclusions until the details and specifics are available--which will not be for several more months. I do know that the money will save some of our staff, as our District was in a difficult place facing next year's budget, but beyond that I cannot say whether I am happy about this turn of events or terrified; I am leaning toward the latter.”

Now, let’s bring it back to New York, which finished second to last in this first round of Race funds. My union President, John H., in his last Presidential Point letter in Speak Out, addressed the issue, but under the guise that he wasn’t so sure Sachem needed reform in the first place. He said, “To earn the grant, I had to sign off on a check list of items that focused on the reforms. The problem in New York was that some of the items were contradictory to local contract and, in one case, state education law. Among these were the uses of student scores in determining teacher tenure.” He also said that other issues involved locals opening contracts and renegotiating items to satisfy new federal guidelines. John ended his point by saying the following: “In Sachem, I see a school district where taxes have been held in check in exemplary fashion. I see a professional staff that has steadily increased student test scores until they were top in the county. Our teachers are teaching, our students are learning, our administrators are making it happen and our Board is keeping costs and taxes down. Tell me, exactly where we need reform? From where I sit, instead of the feds and the state trying to reform us, they should be using Sachem as a model to show how things can be done. But what do I know?”

While I share in John’s sentiment, I know that part of being a teacher is being able to adapt, and I think in education there is always room for improvement. If we get stuck in the mud, screaming “past practice, past practice,” how does this benefit the kids?

Here are my questions on the subject:
1) How do we deal with the issue of data and teaching to a test in determining tenure or the effectiveness of a teacher? My friend Chris recently asked me, “Do you believe all teachers have the ability to motivate and develop lessons plans effective enough to get less fortunate and less intelligent students to learn the necessary material to be considered an educated citizen?” My answer is shouldn’t we all?
2) Do we agree with how the federal government is handling this? Are their intentions—to get people to start talking about reforming education—good?
3) Where does professional development play into R2TT’s intentions? Shouldn’t the development of teachers be top priority? Why is NYS threatening to take Teacher Centers away?
4) Do we actually need reform?!

Happy Accidents

I've recently been thinking about coincidences. I first started thinking about their importance today, as I was gliding, tires slick with rain, onto Sunrise Highway, merging from Nicolls Road South. I was thinking about accidents, specifically car accidents, train accidents, any form of crash. Probably not the best thing to be thinking about while driving. However, an accident is effectively a coincidence; it is something that, who knows, maybe was--or was not--planned in the pre-destination of a life. One wrong move could lead to an accident and all accounts of one's future could be changed, altered by a split-second decision or indecision to jerk left...or right.

I got to thinking about this idea of a coincidence. Is it an act of fate? Are all accidents, coincidences, surprises pre-determined? Are they supposed to happen? Maybe we should pay more attention to them if that's the case.

I remember reading The Celestine Prophecy a few years ago. James Redfield's novel focuses on coincidences as being the first of nine insights into achieving a fulfilling life. This first insight entails consciousness of the coincidences in our lives. Coincidences that build up supposedly lead us to a higher path.

I've always been cognizant of the coincidences in my life. I remember when I was reading the book, I got an image in my head of the mother of one of my friends from elementary school. I remembered Mrs. Peters, my friend Amy, Amy's 6th birthday party at their house, and fondly reflected on how her mother was a good person. The next day, Mrs. Peters, who I hadn't seen in probably a decade or so, showed up at the Italian Ice store where I was working. I don't know the meaning attributed to that coincidence; it may just have been to prove to me that they do exist, and that I shouldn't let them go unnoticed.

I think for too long a time I have ignored the power of coincidence.

As Bob Ross said, "We don't make mistakes here, just happy accidents."

Presidents Day

Today is Presidents Day. I decided to take a journey around my Long Island listening to some tunes that I handpicked for the ride.

"Good Morning Happiness" by Grant-Lee Phillips: I merge onto Nicolls Road North, cruising by the icy divide. I pass through Selden, Centereach, and South Setauket, listening to "Low Rising" by The Swell Season and "Shambala" by Three Dog Night.

I turn onto Nesconset Highway West, as "Sing" by Travis starts up. I notice the bare tree limbs surrounding me as I'm stuck in serious mall traffic. As I'm dead stopped on the road, I notice it's 45 degrees outside and the snow is gradually melting. An ambulance approaches me on the opposite side of the street, its siren blaring, as I study the red house with the big tree in front of it on the easterly side of the highway, while "Hey Soul Sister" by Train is playing.

As I enter Nesconset for a brief time, "Little Lion Man" by Mumford and Sons is blaring (I turned the volume up for this one especially). I notice the vast snowy field that is on the corner directly opposite one of the largest shopping malls in Suffolk County, the Smithaven mall. A right turn onto Middle Country Road yields me right into the hamlet of St. James as my car radio yields "Peg" by Steely Dan right into my ears.

Steely Dan takes me through Village of the Branch and I'm through Main Street of Smithtown by the end of the song. "The Beat" starts up by Elvis Costello, just as I approach The Bull. And I follow the road to the right, 25A.


Flanked by Suffolk County and New York State parks, the song is "Break Even" by The Script and I notice my "Service Engine Soon" light has gone on. Bummer. Too bad I won't listen to it...

I turn onto East Main Street in Kings Park, where I remember that I forgot to go to a Post Office to mail my congratulatory birth cards as well as my ceremonial wedding response (yes), and then all of a sudden one appears out of nowhere across from the Kings Park High School. I turn into the parking lot, open my door, and Neko Case's "People Got a Lotta Nerve" follows me to the mailbox.

Driving into town, I make a few wrong turns, and have to turn around in Clayton Funeral Home, which I have unfortunately been to before, and am listening to the appropriate "Just Breathe" by Pearl Jam.

Trying to find a suitable restaurant or bar, I am clearly lost, all the while listening to "Honey and the Moon" by Joseph Arthur.

I turn onto Old Dock Road and pass kids and adults sledding down an icy quasi-hill, the Kings Park psychiatric hospital looming in the background. I turn into the semi-packed parking lot of D.S. Shanahans, located next to an old, gray house. Even the Budweiser flags weren't moving at this bar.

So I search on. I find the psychiatric hospital. Not sure if I should be there.




As I pull out, "Boy Lilikoi" by Jonsi playing, I notice Nissequogue River State Park is across the street, so I pull in past buildings boarded up, feeling like I'm trespassing yet again. But I see other cars and I park. Out on foot, I trudge through snow and mud. I'm being followed by a white Grand Cherokee. Nonetheless, I take my pictures, and if I can ignore the crunching of Cherokee tires on ice behind me, there is a serenity of just me and the birds staring out onto the river.







I go back to the car, finish up my pictures, and leave the park, admiring the Nissequogue River, frozen and leading out to the Sound.







"Chasing Pirates" by Norah Jones accompanies me up and down back hills of Kings Park. I take St. Johnland Road past the house of Obadiah Smith and past the town of San Remo. And I am back where I began on Main Street of Kings Park, Levon Helm's "When I Go Away" with me this time around. I go to the Park Lounge, but it's closed, so I turn around and head back to Smithtown, "bound for glory," as Levon sings.

Brian Eno and David Byrne sing "Life is Long" and I sit in the shadow of the bull pondering that sentiment.


Back on Jericho Turnpike, "Old Man Chicago" by Alberta Cross glides me to Union Station Restaurant, which was "Closed. See Ya in the Summer." Of course leaving me with no explanation for the cars in the parking lot.

Dejected again, I turn on Phoenix's "1901" which leads me into town and I park, a little more upbeat than before.


I go into Napper Tandys Pub, where there are no local beers, but I order a Magic Hat #9 and a French Onion Soup. The lone other customer tells me I'm the 3rd patron of the day, and I am forced to eat my soup and watch Fox News, where I learn Senator Evan Bayh of Indiana is retiring. The guy at the other end of the bar is talking to the bartender about Valentines Day, her heating problems, and the Olympics, as I take notes on my day.

I pay my $11.50 bill, leave, and head home on Portion Road.

Nesconset
Lake Ronkonkoma
Farmingville.

"Diary of Jane" by Breaking Benjamin
"You Are the Best Thing" by Ray LaMontagne
"Tunnel of Love" by Bruce Springsteen.

HOME.

"It only ends once. Anything before that is just progress."

December, January, February. The time passes, but life remains the same. Winter is cold, and we've had many snowbound days so far. I don't mind the snow. Maybe it is the variable that interrupts the constants in my life. It gives me something to do, something to marvel over, something to talk about.

As it usually happens around this time of year, my creativity is running out of gas, and is in serious need of replenishment. When my creativity flounders, so does my feeling of self-worth (how depressing!). I seem to run out of inspiration when I have to spend my everydays inside or bundled up inside a tightly wound sausage of cottony layers.

I expressed recently to my friend Victoria that I am feeling suffocated. I come home most days and either stay in my room or the guest room, watching TV and lying down. I am looking for condos, but that is a long process. In the interim, my mind, my heart, everything feels like it's locked up in a black box, dreaming and beating beyond its walls, but unable to burst out and expand.

I was driving and thinking these sentiments the other day when I recalled meeting a Navajo man in an Indian market in Arizona two summers ago. He told me and a few other strangers that it was a beautiful day to wake up on this side of the grass. I find that to be one of the most beautifully reassuring things I have ever heard.

As the months wind on, I am finding ways of reinventing or reestablishing my creativity and thus my sanity and happiness. In one month I am shaving my head in honor of childhood cancer research. The sense of altruism, garnered from fundraising and talking about the cause, leading up to the event is reassuring, and I know the new look I will gain from the shaving will be fulfilling. Today my Dad and I are repainting the guest room, from a pistachio green color to a new pea-soup hue. At first I was opposed to the change--mere laziness--but as we're doing it, it feels good to alter something. I don't really care about the outcome; the room serves its purpose to me whatever the tone, but that I am contributing to its change, and I guess in some eyes, its betterment, for that contribution I feel good.

The time changes, and I need to be more proactive in changing with it. I find myself idly sitting in the sidelines watching my life replaying itself, constant upon constant, not realizing that I can be the variable effecting the change I need to evolve.