Missing

So a friend who so deserves some good luck had someone tell her he misses her.  I was giddy with happiness for her.  We talked about those words.  And I can't stop thinking about it.  Lots of people throw around the "I love you" to the point that I bet it doesn't mean much to most people anymore.

But "I miss you"?  Well, that's a whole other story.  We were talking about how we have never or rarely ever had someone say that to us.  Now, my students say it, and I say it back to them.  And we mean it.  But it is a different kind of missing going on.  Some people say it and then make little effort to get in touch.  The kind of missing we were talking about is the kind that makes you feel wanted.  Imagine having a friend who says that to you after you return from a vacation or if schedules prevent you from talking for awhile?

So, do people just not miss each other anymore?  Do people take friends and loved ones for granted?  Or is it something else?  Is our ability to constantly hear from each other via text causing us to need communication breaks from each other?  It seems like not too many people like to or can have deep conversations.  Too many conversations are catching up on the past 24 hours and small talk.  When discussions are that meh, how much can you possibly miss someone?  But maybe it is none of the above.

Maybe some of us just aren't important enough to be missed.  I don't really know.

Gimpy

Last night, my dad lost his buddy.  My grandmother had called her his partner in crime.  She sure found the right doorstep to hang out on after escaping.  From a horrific, abusive adolescence to being spoiled rotten over the last 10+ years, Gimpy had it well.  I am happy she was not alone.  Pooh and Ernie kept her company over the last couple of days.  Not many people were allowed into her circle.  As a matter of fact, most people feared her, wouldn't dare go near her.  I was one of the lucky few.  I could rub her, brush her, comb her, kiss her, clean her ears and eyes, pick her up, wipe her tushy, and she purred like a champ.

Gimpy, I will miss you, my furry little half-sister.

Sweat

Just submitted the AP Photo curriculum for review by the AP director at work.  Summer heat make you sweat?  That's nothing compared to the shaking and sweating from submitting a crucial thing like this.  It's like I am staking my whole being on this....  Make the program work or I look like an ass.  I know if I try talking to anyone about this they will tell me to calm down, I am over analyzing, taking it too seriously, blah, blah, blah.  So I get it off my chest in this manner so I don't hear those things from people whose work ethic is not up to my standards.

So in my ongoing effort to model good behaviour for the students, I have made three submissions to shows so far.  I was talking to my sister about this yesterday.  She said I must have a super resume.  Ha!  I wish.  I look at my list of exhibits and see that they have dropped off in recent years.  Yes, I get in a couple each year, but I was on a roll for awhile.  Then the sh*t hit the fan at work.  And there goes the art making.  I have piles of photos on my drafting table, waiting for the surface drawing to be completed.  I have two soft sculptures hidden behind a cabinet, waiting to be shaped and warped.  My work table in the basement?  Holy crap.  Felt balls, bugs in resin, bottle caps with fillings, prepped bones, funky stuff in resin....  All waiting for me to finish whatever the hell it is I am doing with them.  Now that the curriculum is complete, maybe I will have the clear head to work on some of these things....

So I met a recent graduate for coffee on Friday.  I had such a fabulous time.  I like hanging out with people of my own age/type but I have issues with this.  I have a hard time dealing with ignorant people when they are as old as I am.  How can you get to be this age and not be aware of the fact that there is inequity that cannot be overcome?  How can you not see that you come from a cushy position?  How can you have the nerve to complain about inane things and denigrate those who were born with so much less?  I try to explain how I see things and get the following responses:  "No, that's not true" or "Oh, you're wrong."  Uhhhh, ok.

So here I am in a Dunkin' Donuts with an 18 year old who proves to be wiser than many 30 and 40-somethings.  We talked about Israel and Palestine, the Confederate flag issues, police, traveling to get out of one's comfort zone, the futility of going to college for business or finance in an over saturated market, the need for more vo-tech programs in the public schools proper.  To be honest, some of his opinions really surprised me, in a good way.  All too often the so-called adults write off the kids for being ignorant and self absorbed.  That's not what I find.  I truly enjoy the time I spend before school, in class, during lunch, during duty, and after school talking about anything and everything.  Like the time we had a period long conversation on big pharma and cancer treatment.  Holy crap, the kids would have blown your mind.

My time talking to some of my peers?  Ugh.  Not so much.  Where are these people getting their opinions?  So many of them are so enamored with celebrity gossip and spend inordinate amounts of time reading that garbage.  Some are sucked in by deflective news - that's what I call the inconsequential stuff portrayed as news to prevent you from knowing about the stuff that will really affect you and your life.  News 12?  Please shoot me.  I want to scream each time someone tells me about something they saw on News 12.   At this point, I stop them and say I don't want to hear it because it isn't news.  By all means, let's fret over the car crash three hours away that has nothing to do with you whatsoever but is retold every ten minutes, while the TPP will bring more strife to labor in this country, Greece is getting a raw deal, we might just be getting to the point where we are improving relations with some traditional enemies, among many other ills or successes.

I guess this is why I want to be social but can't bring myself to it.  If I find a person who I know I could have a fabulous conversation with, I blow it with my over eager ways.  So I read, and read, and read.  And hubby and I have these talks.  But he gets so distressed about the issues, he needs to take a break.  And I read some more.  And once in a while, I get lucky and a former student wants to go out for coffee and we have a fabulous talk that lasts for hours.

So I was kind of hoping to tag along on a parent trip to Italy.  It might sound crazy coming from me, but I wanted to see the family over there.  They are so nice, not like a lot of what is here.  For instance, my father does not speak a word of Italian or French and they do not speak English, but they make sure he is included in all conversations and understands.  They are open minded and fun to be around.  Well, mother screwed up father's hopes for going this year....  Loooong story.  So I was happy to hear this morning that my mother talked to one of the cousins and she is doing well.  She had been dealing with cancer, but must be on the mend.  (So much for the so-called rotten European health care, wink wink.)  Then came the bad news.  Another cousin had his house broken into.  He lives in Sartrouville, France.  We spent Easter 2014 with him and his family last year.  (talking politics was a hoot)  He spends his summers in his hometown of Sicignano degli Alburni where he has a condo.  While in Italy, the house was ransacked. I feel so sad for him and his wife.  I want to go over there and help clean up and put things back together.   

I am also really aggravated that I cannot go now.  It might seem like a piddly little thing, but I bought his wife a photo album.  Because of postal issues, I am not mailing it to them.  Much of what is mailed back and forth arrives damaged or late, so my mother sends things with people.  So I planned to send this with mother.  The reason for the gift?  On Easter, we were looking at old photos.  Not only were the albums not archival and acid free, but the adhesive was shot.  The photos were falling out all over the place.  The love my cousin's wife showed for the photographs and their associated memories was marred by the terrible storage.  I know, it sounds really stupid.  But I want her to have something secure and long lasting so that she can admire the pictures and reminisce without bother.

I guess it has something to do with my attention to the whole experience.  I have noticed that the lack of printing photographs has altered that experience.  What do we feel when looking at an image on a camera or phone screen?  So many people I know claim to love photography but have never been to a gallery (hello, free!) or a museum to see photographs in the flesh, so to speak.  Their sole experiences involve viewing on a monitor or 3"x 2" screen.  I don't know about anyone else, but my blood does not get pumping by looking at a monitor or phone.  Add to that the fact that the color calibration might be off, therefore altering the image and the reception of the image by the viewer.  There is also the issue of the substrate.  Do you realize the role the type of paper can play in the reception of a photograph?  People know that there might be a visceral response to a painting on a strange object that might not exist with a painting on canvas, so why not acknowledge the role of the substrate in photography?  Looking at a book reprint of a Shirin Neshat photograph from her first US exhibit in the early 90s does not compare to seeing the real thing in person.  I can tell you about the images that stop me in my tracks, make me sweat, light-headed, excited, or short of breath.  I don't see how anyone can get that from a non-printed digital file.

OK, so you don't like the photograph as art.  You just like it as a recording of memories.  Well, I scroll through the images I take on my cameras.  I look at them on my computer.  I look at pics on peoples' phones.  I also look at pictures I have in envelopes from the lab or in my photo albums.  The two acts elicit completely different feelings.  One seems so mechanical.  I am merely hitting a button.  The other?  I am usually sitting on the floor (like a little kid) with the album splayed open in my lap.  I flip through the pages, taking the page of multiple images in.  Each little 4" x 6" is a part of a whole.  The rush of memories of that time or event comes back in an instant.  I just do not get that with the un-printed image.

When I wrote about printing vs. not printing in the past, it was more about the historical documentation.  I have been thinking more about the emotional aspect lately.  Don't really know if anyone else is.....  Yet another topic for a deep Photo II/AP discussion.

I am reading a couple of older books right now.  I am also sucked in by Masterpiece's "Poldark."  What the heck do these things have in common?  Writing and speaking.  I have found that when watching contemporary television, I get miffed when I see a character texting too often.  Kind of how I am not fond of texting/facebook messaging as the main form of communication with my friends.  When I watch or read a period piece, I get a twinge of excitement when there is a scene with letter writing, visiting, meeting up and speaking face to face.

I get such a thrill from the face-to-face time with my students.  I might get to work at the ass crack of dawn to get work done, but there is another reason.  I like being there for my kids.If someone wants to talk, I am there.  The kids must know this.  Only once have I had a long, in depth e-mail conversation, and that was probably because it was Spring vacation.  All other times students needed to talk, they e-mail me to see if I will be in so we can speak.  I like that.  The kids like it too.  I hear them talk about the teachers they love.  There is one particular teacher a lot of kids love.  She might not be well liked by some of my colleagues, but I have a great deal of respect for her.  Students know that she is there for them 100%.  If they need someone to listen to them during a hard period, she will make the time.  She makes them feel they are being listened to.  She gives them advice with love and sincerity.  They know that.  They appreciate it.  And from what I can see, years down the road, she still cares for them.

Now, there is a man who the kids thought was like that.  The kids thought he was there for them....  But the sad thing was that I knew otherwise.  On lunch duty one day, we're talking about that year's upcoming graduation.  He proudly stated that when the kids say they'll miss him, he says he will too but doesn't mean it.  He can't wait until they are gone.  He was proud of the fact that he has no interest in keeping in touch with them.  The kids still have no idea. When it was announced he was leaving, kids were bummed.  I didn't want to be the one to burst their bubble.  I just nodded.

Why is this on my mind?  It's summer for god's sake.  Well, last week I spent a great deal of time messaging with former students - portfolio ideas and feedback, trying to schedule a coffee date to discuss life, etc..  I like keeping in touch with my former students because I care about them and their successes and want to continue to help them through their struggles.  When you think there is a person in your life who is there for you, someone you think you can talk to, and then you find out it was all superficial, well, that hurts.  

I do not want to ever be that person to my students.  Hell, I have had heart-to-heart talks with kids that I have never even taught.  I do not ever want to be that person to a friend either.  I have that happen too often.  It is why I seek and cherish speaking to and being with a friend over typing words back and forth.  The beauty of the typed word is that there is no emotional investment.  There is no inflection.  There is no risk of seeing the reaction of your recipient.  You type it, you send it, and you wash your hands of the whole matter.  You can hurt a person and claim ignorance.  You didn't see or hear the reaction, therefore, it did not happen.  You can claim your words were misunderstood.  The joke was not received well.  

But here's the other thing. without that human contact, the positive responses are missed.  The happiness in a person's voice when they hear your voice on the other end of the phone...  The way a person lights up when you meet for coffee or something....  Having a friend over for a chat...  I wonder if the students - or my peers for that matter - are losing touch with this.  I don't think they recognize the value of human contact.  Because texts do not a friendship make.  So I make sure I am physically there for them as possible.  Not just an e-mail address.  I want them to know that the human contact is necessary and beneficial.

I went out alone for the first time in a long time.  I used to do it a lot.  Then the place I went to burned down.  Then I got caught up in work and stopped going out.  A few years ago, when we got to Prague, hubby was exhausted.  He slept.  It was the night before Easter.  I decided to go for a walk.  Alone.  At night.  In a strange city in a country whose language I had a poor grasp of.  I enjoyed myself thoroughly.  The street lamps, the cobblestone streets, the old buildings, the strange fire burning in the center of the crowd in front of the church.

When we go on vacation, we are not joined at the hip.  I do my thing, he does his.  He does not really like going to art museums anymore, so I do that solo.  I don't bring my bike, so he bikes solo.  It works.  I hate being tied down to things and people.So last night, as I am walking to my car and driving home, I felt a little bit of my old self coming back.  I let work suck me in so much the past few years and this solitude was a nice return to old feelings.  I might have been surrounded by blaring sirens, ambulances racing like crazy (were those people surrounding a person on the sidewalk?), but I was totally comfortable.  As a matter of fact, being in familiar or strange cities, alone, at night is invigorating.  I am absolutely comfortable in my skin when wandering...  The only city I have ever been to that I would never walk around alone at night would be New Orleans.  Whoa.  Love, love, love the place, but sooooo dangerous.  You can feel the danger crawling on your skin... Or is that the sweat dripping from the humidity?

So why bother writing this on a work blog?  Because most of my kids - or any kids where I work - do not want to step out of a comfort zone.  They are afraid of Paterson.  They shiver when Newark is mentioned.  They allow their prejudices to keep them in their bubbles.  Those bubbles allow them to keep the ideas and stereotypes they grow up with.  A woman going out alone?  At night?  No.  She should be home with the husband and babies.  A trip to a foreign country with no connection to one's heritage?  Hell no.

While I have been having a very hard time in some ways in recent months, last night's trip home was good.  I also had a longish talk with someone about living an unconventional life.   I try to teach my students about how to break out of their bubbles all the time.  They are probably sick of me telling them to do things differently, but I will keep trying....

eep!

So I heard from one of my AP darlings.  Phew!  He has been shooting like crazy and just hasn't been able to upload onto his computer.  This made my day.  I have such issues with getting something new off the ground and not hearing from the kids was making me a wreck.

I started working on the curriculum yesterday.  I hit a wall.  I have written curriculum so many times before, but for some reason, I had no idea what direction to head in.  I mean, I ran the class like AP last year so it should have flowed from me.  But, nothing.  I just kept hunting for other curricula online to inspire or jump start me.  I gave up after writing two units.  I want to bed after midnight after Brit murder mysteries and Dave the Spazz's radio show.  And I just couldn't turn off.  I was worrying all about the damn curriculum.  So at 1.30 I get up to sign onto the network and work.  I shut the door and tried to type quietly.  Not easy.  It does not help that I am doing this gratis.  Normally we are paid for writing this stuff.  Due to the fiscal crap - I mean, events - of the past year, there is no money for curriculum writing.  But my proposal was approved.  The course is running.  I have to write this.

So hearing from one of the boys (yes, I have all boys bar one girl) made it worth it for me.

So I got the nerve to send the first gentle reminder to my AP kids.  I found three of their e-mail addresses and asked that they pass the message on to the other three.  I spent some time researching AP curricula from other schools around the country.  Since it is pouring out today and I cannot do the outside work, I plan to begin work on curriculum writing today.  I have to submit the finished product to not just my AP supervisor at work, but also to the College Board for approval.  I have written so many different curricula over the years, I don't get nervous about it anymore.  I just run like a machine.

So I was going through e-mail and files yesterday.  I realized the publisher for my thesis didn't send me a statement this June.  Then I realized that the five year agreement is up.  So....  I had bought a few books, gone to see some work in galleries, and done more work some years ago in the hopes of expanding my thesis into a full book.  Now that the contract is up, I think I might get going on that.  I was extremely motivated to proceed with that project after presenting my paper at the SVA Humanities conference some years ago.  The response was good - good enough that a highly critical faculty member from the Ontario College of Art and Design asked me to submit to one of their conferences.  My thesis mentor was real positive about me moving forward, but work got a hold of me and my time and I find it hard to extricate myself form work and other responsibilities and commitments.  I just need the confidence to get myself moving on it.  I have the time this summer.  I had wanted to get through all the reading I never did over the school year, but this might be more important.  There has also been an increase in the subject matter I wrote about so that might mean more trips into the city to gallery hop, go to openings, speak to the artists...

I have colleagues who are adjunct instructors at local colleges.  Former students have asked why I don't teach at college level (they claim I should).  I have colleagues who have been published.  Me?  I let work suck me in the past two years.  I have only been in two exhibits in the past two years.  I have created very little art.  If I am going to try to inspire my students to get themselves out there, I need to get back to that.

But first, my massage appointment....  Hope I am not too ticklish today.

Let down...

So Monday, the 6th was the first due date for my AP kids.  Every two weeks they are to e-mail me with progress reports.  They are to shoot film and digital - rolls and cameras were signed out the last day of school.  They can show me some of the digital images if they want to.  They cannot develop the film since none of them have the means to.  I do not go to the school over the summer because it is too disruptive (massive work is done in the building each summer) so they will develop all their film in September.  Lest anyone think I just casually told them "Go shoot this summer, blah, blah, blah", here is the assignment each one received:

http://pvmvasa.pbworks.com/w/page/29829893/Assignments%20III

Sure, someone probably lost the sheets. Sure, someone probably forgot.  But, cripes, it is three days later and nothing.  I know when I forgot I had work due, I sh*t my pants and got it done, and that was never past the due date, but the night before.  I don't expect any less from the kids than I expect from myself.  I will be lenient with the grade for this first one.... However, not the next progress report.  Hell, I am shooting, developing, editing.  Modeling behaviours for my kids.



OK, that felt good to get off my chest.  I am calmer now, but still bummed.  I will be sending them little, gentle reminders.  I can picture my little doofus from period 7 right now.  "Oh sh*t.  I forgot!"  They are all good, conscientious kids.  However, the work ethic where I teach is not what will earn them A's in college.  Or get them to have their work exhibited.  I want them to get beyond snapshot images.  I want them to express something meaningful.  A couple of them have some profound stuff going on.  I want to see that in their work.

I know tackling AP will not be easy.  I feel like I can do it having been in a couple of AP courses in high school (including the first year run of AP Art) so I really want to get this off right.  I remember in Rome, when I was talking to some of the kids about concentration ideas for one of the AP 3D kids.  The conversation was so invigorating.  But his follow through that following year was not there.  This is one of the main challenges I know I will have.  If I can get my kids to have a regular dialogue with me over the summer, I will not have to jump start them in September.

Well, now to hunt down their e-mail addresses....

Trip

I might as well get something off my chest because I do not want another sleepless night.  So I read a lot over the summer and I have seen a lot of articles online assigning diagnoses to things - ADD, ADHD, Anxiety, Depression, PTSD, migraines, and so on.  Casual diagnoses, written well, helping the lay person self-diagnose.

Teaching, we get a lot of kids going through tough shit.  And they feel they have no way out.  And they "self-medicate."  What does this mean?  They use drugs to make themselves feel better.  With no one watching over them.  I understand the desperation behind this.  I do not begrudge any student trying whatever it takes to make oneself feel better.  I also understand adults trying whatever means they can find to help get out of their misery.  There are people who do have mental health issues or life issues that are so hard to get through.  Natural medication might not work.  Pharmaceutical medication might not work or be trusted.  Therapy can be really hard to get through if you even find the right match.  And for our students, not all of them feel comfortable going to our SAC, no matter how wonderful she is.

Now here is my beef.  Over the years, I have had more and more people declare what their ailment is and why that is the reason for behaviour or actions.  OK.  Who diagnosed you?  Oprah?  WebMD?  Some quack ready to rake in the money from your therapy?  I have had students declare their ADD was why they were being disruptive.  Honey, over 15+ years I have had tons of kids who have issues: ADD, ADHD, major depression, schizophrenia, dead parents, homelessness, war refugee status, Tourette's, you name it.  Do you really want to know how many of those kids were as selfishly disruptive as you?  None.  But by all means, self-diagnose and use that crutch.  Or better yet, find a doctor who will readily give you a bogus diagnosis.  (I wish I had a rare punk record for each bogus diagnosis we teachers see).

Now that I am getting out more and being more social, I am finding adults doing the same thing.  Adults claiming they are "depressed", have ADD, have anxiety, have PTSD.  Blah, blah, blah...  Fine, good for you.  Here's my issue...  Are you using your self-diagnosis as an excuse to treat others poorly, for being ignorant of others' feelings and needs? Are you self-medicating irresponsibly?   Adults who loudly declare their diagnoses annoy me.  You have a migraine and you are on the computer complaining?  I don't think so.  You have ADD when the topic doesn't interest you but have laser focus if it does?  OK.  You have PTSD?  Tell that to the lady who was raped or the veteran who wakes up screaming in the middle of the night, every night.  I have noticed that those who self-diagnose or readily accept a flip diagnosis from some quack are also the ones who loudly declare the righteousness of self-medicating - and doing so to excess.

Why does this bother me so much?  Several years ago I was diagnosed with a mental illness.  I have had this since I was in fourth grade.  The diagnosis did not come easily.  Medication was not quickly dispensed.  Thought and care went into this.  I have a hard time and very few people are privy to what exactly it is that I have.  I am vague because it is private.  It is not a badge of honour.  Every single person I know who is truly dealing with a diagnosis is like this - students and adults.  Some have tried using drugs to medicate, but as needed, not abused.  Some have had quacks run through wild diagnoses before finding a true diagnosis with a good doctor.  But here's the thing, they knew the BS.  They knew the false diagnoses seemed inaccurate.  We might be crazy, but we know our minds and know what is a correct or incorrect diagnoses.  We also know that this is no badge of honour.  We keep our issues quiet.  Those I know who flippantly claim these diagnoses seem to also use them as an excuse for being selfish, ignorant, and thoughtless.

Yes, many people are damaged.  Many of us have been through very hard things.  But those things do not necessarily lead to a mental illness diagnosis.  We live in an age where people think taking too many "selfies" should be a diagnosis in the next DSM.  There are depressive episodes and there is depression.  Two very different things.  Everyone wants a diagnosis.  For some it is an excuse to treat others in an offhand manner.  For others, it is a reason for abusing drugs (there is a difference between casual use and abuse).  I could go on.  When I get students who make these flip comments about their supposed diagnosis, I stop them and clarify ("No, you do not have ADD.  There is no documentation.  You are just being disrespectful and disruptive."  Stops them in their tracks and gets a smile from the others.) .  I do so because I know there might be a student who truly is dealing with an issue and hearing this flip declaration is hurtful.  I wish I could do the same with adults.

Wrap up

Note:  Written on 18 June, posted later.

So this year came barreling to its end.  I have been teaching 16 or 17 years.  I have never created a countdown to the end for myself.  This year I did.  I hate that.  I love my kids so much (I wish the English language had more words for love, but oh well) and will miss most of them, but damn, I need this year to be over.  I have yet to speak to another colleague not in agreement.  The kids sense it too.  I told hubby that there should be a helicopter hovering over the school on graduation day.  Record the teacher race to drop off our gowns and book to our cars, peeling rubber out of that parking lot.  If I was a drinker, I would be getting filthy drunk on Friday.  I am not a drinker, so I will play the music loud and then head out dancing to loud music where a friend will be dj-ing a set.

So was there anything good this year?  Yeah, there was.  Here it goes:

1. My Photo II numbers went up and the kids were crazy creative.  I knew when I saw my rosters that I would get more cerebral stuff and they did not disappoint
2. I start AP Studio Art Photo next year and have 6 kids signed up
3. I had a regular bunch of boys at the breakfast table in my room every morning.  We'd sit and chat about life.  This is major for me because many students here assume that teachers favour those students of the same sex.  I guess I don't project that.  Good.  Oh, and damn, I will miss those chats and the boys.
4. Using new alternative processes with Photo III success.  The best gum bichromate results yet; not perfect, but better.  Thanks to the patient JK.  Palladium printing?   Holy crap!  I love this method!!!!  And the results?  I think I squealed in front of the kids.
5. 3D printing.  Yes, we printed photographs in relief.  And oh my gosh, we are in love with this.  Planning stuff with the AP 3D Art/Ceramics teacher for next year.  Woot woot!
6. I had a regular bunch of boys who came to the Photo room instead of the cafe.  They came because of their friends in the class, but I used the opportunity to show them photo stuff and they have all decided to sign up for the class next year.  Hell yeah.
7. I have a project with the LFPD - yeah, I know - where we are scanning, restoring, and printing old archival negatives.  We will continue this next year.  This is real world stuff that my kids can use in a job.  I also have a secret project related to this that I hope to get off the ground next year.
8. I had a student get into Fresh Perspectives.  I was in this show in high school.  I don't think it is the best show around, but I am in the minority.  Most people would kill to get in that.  Well, check it off my list.  And the girl who got a piece in?  One of the the hardest working Photo II kids out there.  So proud of her.
9. Despite bad things happening to some students, my classes pulled together like a family to care for their peers.

There were so many bad things this year, none of which are the fault of my students.  Despite some peoples' best efforts (hello gov) I am not ready to quit.  Well, not until I find the perfect cottage in Hungary to fix up.