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.

Long Island Dreamin'

It's the same thing each year.

The weather starts getting nicer, I've had enough of the school year, and I start wishing I was back home in Long Island. [As an aside: I am aware that I say "in" Long Island, when it should be "on" Long Island, and for those of you who constantly remind me of this grammatical blunder, I do not care!]

But yeah, the springtime blues are in full bloom here in Delaware. I write this on the eve of a trip back home, actually. However, my trip tomorrow is going to be short-lived; it is an interview that will hopefully seal my fate as English teacher in my beloved Sachem school district. Although, I won't even be home for 24 hours. I need a full-blown week at home, with free access to the beach, White Castle, Ralph's Ices, and Strathmore. Maybe throw some New England clam chowder in a bread bowl down in Port Jeff in there, for good measure.

As I was driving today, reeling after a rough day at school, the wind blowing in all directions through my car, I wished I could just drive right to the beach, sit in the sand, put my toes in the wet sand where the ocean meets the shore, and just gaze out onto the horizon, putting all my troubles at bay for at least a short time, when everything else around me is serene. Instead, I was stuck in Delaware driving on I-95 next to the funky, malodorous fetor of a garbage dump. To drive to the beach would take at least an hour and a half. It's not even like I go to the beach that often when I'm home. I think I just like it for security: it symbolizes home, and the close proximity of the beach is a calm reminder that serenity is just a short drive down the road.

In the meantime, I will keep playing my countless songs that remind me of home, and, who knows, maybe in the 15 hour time-span that I'm home over the next two days I will drop by the beach just so I can put my toes in the sand and feel one tiny grain of peace to hold me over until I'm back home for good.

A Wonderful World

I just finished watching a video my uncle made up a few years ago celebrating the lives of my grandparents through pictures. Man, they've really had a wonderful life together. As I look through their life in pictures, I notice the immense happiness and love they have for each other and each and every person that's in the picture with them.

I feel lucky to have them in my life, to be in pictures with them, smiling back at the camera with them, knowing their love and life is mine as well.

I hope I can find the happiness that they have found and given to so many others during their lives.

The Soundtrack of My Life

In one of my ninth-grade classes, in order to promote individual expression and tolerance of all, I am assigning the students to create a soundtrack to their lives, with the eventual goal of each person picking one song that best describes them to be put onto a soundtrack of the classroom. Since I, too, am a member of the classroom, I wrote a soundtrack to my own life, which follows:

The first song on my soundtrack is an instrumental song called “Number Three” by Ben Harper. I’ve been listening to Ben Harper since high school, specifically 10^th grade. I remember the first time I bought one of his CDs, I was at the mall with Chris Cosgrove. Little did either of us know that later that summer, we would be seeing Ben open up for the Dave Matthews Band at Giants Stadium. The song puts me at ease, and leaves me in a tranquil state.

“Out of My Head” by Fastball is a classic car-ride sing-along song. It reminds me of the time sophomore year when I went to the Haunted House out east with the guys--Matt, Odie, Kyle, Cos, Jay Breinlinger--and we sang this song, driving out to the sticks in the dead of night. It’s an uplifting song that I can’t help but sing each and every time I hear it on the radio. Fastball also reminds me of the time in 1999 when I saw them in concert, opening for the Goo Goo Dolls and Sugar Ray. My Dad kept calling them “Fast pitch.”

The third song is “District Sleeps Alone Tonight” by Postal Service. This song reminds me of the end of high school or the beginning of college, the timeline is kind of a blur. The spunky electronics in the song appeal to the blur of when this song came into my life. Starting out slow, “District Sleeps…” is a bop-your-head song that I love to sing along to in a high falsetto, making each and every word my own, staging it as a screenplay rather than just a song, words that are created solely to be acted out. As the tempo increases, so does my love for and obsession with this song. The guitar riffs and synth-drum beats make me want to bop my head and run screaming about a “gaudy apartment complex.” The song evens out, leaving the listener content, after their tumultuous journey through Postal Service’s “District.”

The next song is “Honey and the Moon” by Joseph Arthur. This song reminds me immediately of my mood the entire time I lived in Albany, New York freshman year. I was longing for something, someone to lift me up. This song helped, even if just a little. I remember sending this song to my friend Katie Maro, who was going to college at New York University, after I had fallen in love with it. I remember calling her one night as I was ambling throughout the streets of Albany, searching for something I, nor anyone else around me, knew, and she told me how much she too loved the song. As Joseph Arthur says in “Honey and the Moon,” that comment “lit up my night.” This song helped me keep going in a time when that is exactly the type of inspiration I needed.

A band I discovered freshman year was the Icelandic band Sigur Ros, who have since become one of my favorites. Their music evokes emotion, and the song “Ny Batteri” brings forth a wave of sadness and the outpouring of emotion from the first note. Each time I listen to this song, I am taken on a ride in the ocean, where waves crest and then crash onto the shore, in a constant rhythmic motion. Though the language in which the singer sings is an ethereal, melodic blend of sounds, I feel like I can sing right along with him, in his own (and my own) made up melodic language. I start off in peace in this song, with the crescendos building and building until all the waves crash into the sand, and I am left staring up at the clear, blue sky, gasping for air and solace.

Jackson Browne’s “Fountain of Sorrow” is another song that reminds me of freshman year, when I was looking to music to help bring me up from that fallen place I had found myself. The image of the fountain is symbolic of my stay at Albany, a campus which is centered around an immense fountain, and the school year culminates with a celebration known as Fountain Day, during which undergraduates get together and celebrate coming out of the long, dark, cold winter they had just spent holed in their dorms, and welcome spring and the prospect of summer to counteract the wintry doldrums and sorrow, the topic about which Mr. Jackson Browne sings for us in this beautiful song.

Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic” reminds me of a summer day, just back from the beach, sitting on the deck of the beach house, enjoying the setting sun and the beautiful feeling of relaxation.

One of my favorite songs of all-time, “All Along the Watchtower” by Bob Dylan, is an acoustic ode to making sense out of confusion and wonder. I first heard this song performed by Dave Matthews Band, and went searching for the original. I’ve encountered versions by Jimi Hendrix, as well as others, but none completely grab me the way that Dylan’s original does, with his harrowing harmonica booming over his careful acoustic guitar.

Finally, a DMB song - “You Never Know.” This song gives me a rush each time I listen to it. It was during this song at a concert at Madison Square Garden that I ran down from my nosebleed section with my friends Krista and Marcia to a section right next to the stage, the horns, guitars, bass, and drums booming in my ears and my favorite band just feet in front of me. The feeling was surreal, and that is the feeling I get each time I hear this song.

“Eastern Glow” by The Album Leaf is a beautiful song that reminds me of one of the best days of my life--a day at the beach. The morning was cloudy, overcast, and drizzly. My family and I decided to try and make the best of it and go mini-golfing and grab some lunch. When we got out of the sub shop, the clouds in the sky had parted and the sun was shining hot. We quickly headed back to the beach house, where we grabbed all our stuff and trekked together up to the beach, meeting the rest of the family at the beach head. I remember sitting on the beach that day, staring at the beautifully blue ocean and equally beautiful blue sky, listening to “Eastern Glow,” and thinking, “Damn, I am at complete peace right now.”

Cat Stevens’ “The Wind” has to be one of the shortest songs ever, but it speaks volumes. The lyrics, about questioning our souls and where we will end up in life, are so empowering, each time the song comes on, well, like Stevens says, “I let the music take me where my heart wants to go.”

Rufus Wainwright’s song “The Consort” reminds me of sophomore year and a love lost. I loved the idea of one person being someone else’s consort, someone else’s guide, an occupation I hope to once again own.

Ah, “Wonderwall” by Oasis: This could easily be the greatest song of my time. Nothing more can be said about it that isn’t already said in the song itself: “All the roads we have to walk are winding, And all the lights that lead us there are blinding…” The message of this song reminds me of a quote, from the philosopher Cicero, “Where there’s life, there’s hope.”

During Third Eye Blind’s “Motorcycle Drive By,” I am immediately stricken with pangs of summertime heat in New York City. The lines “I’ve never been so alone, and I’ve never been so alive,” are mirror images of myself at certain times in my life. And the singer says it so perfectly when he says, “I hope you take a piece of me with you.” I do.

Coldplay’s “Talk” is a more recent song, and I am completely in love with the guitar riff. The message in the song just grabs me right away and swallows me whole. The singer, scared about the future, is pleading to his brother to just talk with him, help him get through the hard times. Everyone needs someone during the hard times.

Soulive’s cover of “Crosstown Traffic” is a funky jazz tune that I can’t help but shout out or jam out to whenever it comes on. I love running to this song because it makes me run faster to the beat and feel like my feet have wings and are floating on air, as opposed to pounding the rough pavement.

I chose Badly Drawn Boy’s “Walking Out of Stride” because I love the concept of “Walking out of stride.” Each person should walk out of stride, be their own person. Lately, one of my 9^th grade English classes has been pointing out my unique walk, a comment that brings me back to high school. I may have a distinct walk, but it is unique to me, and so what if it’s out of stride!

Lastly, I chose the motivational song “Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen)” because I am graduating in May and love the message this song conveys. The author correctly describes life as a child, teenager, young professional, adult, and old-aged granny, humanity is a whole. I will take the advice dispensed within this song with me for the rest of my life, and he warns, “Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.”

The Road of Life

The other day, I read "New Directions" by Maya Angelou with my 9th grade class. After we read, I had them write a short story or poem of their own about their own road of life, comparing their lives to roads and the things we encounter along the way. This is what I wrote:

Accelerate onto the LIE.
Dad's always telling me to watch out for the other person.
Look left, look right, but know the road ahead.
When I was ready to get off the LIE and onto a new path, I had a choice--Go north or south.
The northern route was to Albany, New York.
Turns out there were speed bumps along the way, made me slow down, re-evaluate where I wanted to go.
The next choice I had to make had me walking backwards, making a U-turn.
Turns out I should've gone south to Delaware.
Now I'm here at Howard High School, one month left of school -- Where to go next?
Up north, signal right, back over the Verrazano Bridge, merge back onto the LIE, go Home.

And on that note, it turns out I will be going home...back to Sachem, the school district where I've always called home, to teach English. I'm psyched by the idea of this.

Southampton Comes Alive

I am sitting in a cheese shop in Southampton, New York. There is a distinct smell of mahogany and peanut butter flavored coffee, which I just purchased and am currently drinking, while listening to the ramblings of the owner, Dean, who believes that the people living on the North Shore have more sophisticated tastes when it comes to food and drink than the inhabitants of the South Shore, where, like I said, I am currently sitting, trying to plan a lesson for school.

Dean's the type who is loyal to family and friends, and that filters through into his business, where he often greets customers by name, and with a little wit, as they arrive in his shop. "It's still Kendra, right?" he jokes with a customer who is unsuspecting of his charm and friendliness.

Dean is having a conversation with an old acquaintance, let's call her Eve, about Dean's family dynamics. Parents in Florida, Brother in Sacramento, Brother's Daughter hasn't talked to Brother in 20 years until reunited in Florida for Dad's birthday bash last weekend. Dean tells a story about how he rode in the same car as his parents, brother, and sister for the first time since 1976. He tells Eve all these details about his family, and she listens intently as if she knew them personally (and she may), all until Eve's friend Adam enters the cheese shop and they leave to go for a walk. Maybe I should take that as a sign that I should go back to reading Paradise Lost...

A stranger to these parts, sipping coffee from a drab, white paper cup, I am writing and scribbling endlessly while I should be doing my work, which is figuring out exactly how I will be teaching Milton's Paradise Lost to my group of inner-city twelfth graders in Delaware next week. If only Dean knew me from Adam...

Moving on down the road, I decide to try my lesson-planning luck at the Southampton Publick House, a microbrewery of the old-fashioned English type. My company is typical for four o'clock on a Tuesday in Southampton, New York: two old men, probably fishermen, locals gathering for a round at the local pub; two businessmen meeting for a drink and a meal before they head back to the city to catch their flight out west to Minneapolis or Milwaukee; an old wino lady trying her luck at beer with her girlfriends in town for a "ladies week" at the local bed and breakfast; and two young guys catching a beer during happy hour after a long day working for the department store in town.

These last two are wondering if I always bring my work to the bar. In fact, I say, this is the first time. I've decided to move up from the typical coffee shop, and, If only they'd let me drink before I teach my students, I say with a slight, lonely chuckle. We go on to explain our respective places in society, me as a student-teacher of English in Delaware, them as the advertising-execs at the local department store in this beautiful Long Island resort town. Their immediate judgments of me have since dissipated as they wish me luck, not only in teaching but in surviving the bottleneck that is Sunrise Highway/Montauk Highway during rush hour in the Hamptons.

One of the young advertising-execs' advice was to stay in the right lane on the Highway--it moves faster than the left, surprisingly--a piece of advice he never told anyone about until just that moment, I finishing up my Irish Ale and he starting his India Pale Ale, both of us looking for some solace on this long island.

The advice worked.