Black Panther–not all that

So, I finally saw Black Panther.  First off, let me say, Marvel superheroes are not my favorites–I’m more of a DC person.  Other than Guardians of the Galaxy and The Avengers movies, I really haven’t seen most of them–I don’t care for most of the characters. (Except Deadpool, but how can you not love Deadpool?)  So, already, there is a lack of “OH MY GOD, THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER!”  That being said, I do still enjoy the ones I see, and in general, I find them entertaining and will generally watch them more than once.

I decided to watch it before Oscar night because I was concerned that if it won, it would be a purely political thing, and in the event that happened, I wanted to be able to have an informed opinion.

First, what I liked about it.  The costumes were stunning.  Vibrant, lush and celebratory of African culture.  A well-deserved Oscar win.  The art direction was also stunning-every detail was checked and consistent.  Another well-deserved Oscar win.  The acting was strong–not the best, but quality.  Michael B. Jordan impressed me the most–I thoroughly enjoyed his character of Killmonger.

Other than that–meh.  Here’s what bothers me?  First, why do Wakandians have English accents?  African people have European accents because of the countries which colonized them.  So, if Wakanda has been isolated forever, why do they have English accents?  Is it because the English accent sounds more refined, more intelligent?  Is it to set them apart from the brutal non-Wakandians?  Killmonger does not have an accent,which makes sense, he’s American.  But his father did, at least he does in the flashback.  If children are exposed to an accent, they generally will speak that way–there are children who are not English all over the world who speak like Peppa Pig, so we know this is a fact.  But the child we see in the flashback does not have an accent.  So, his father consciously made an effort for every moment of his life to maintain his American accent, even in the comfort of his own home?  Is it because he wouldn’t fit into the thug life that he was apparently sent to observe?  Wouldn’t it make more sense to have them speak in Wakandian (which there clearly is since they show it in writing) and use subtitles, much like Lord of the Rings?

Second,  T’Challa is a wimp.  He needs a suit and a supernatural root to be strong and fight.  His royal guard, all women, fight and win with just a spear.  Okoye (is that her name?) does half the car chase with no armor and just a spear and takes out so many.  Let her run the kingdom.  And frankly, if the women are so strong, why have they not overthrown the patriarchal society that they are beholden to and run Wakanda themselves?  Like most societies, they are anyway, just not acknowledged.

Third, the Wakandians control all the technology.  The tribes that exist around them support them and fight for them, but they live in huts on the savannah.  That sounds like European colonization all over again.

Fourth, where’s the loyalty?  As soon as Killmonger goes to fight, everyone who was so against him becoming king rush off to fight for him, except the Royal Guard.  “Oh, you killed our beloved king, you horrible outsider!  Wait, we’ll fight with you against him!”  Was T’Challa really that bad a king?

Fifth, if Wakanda is sending spies all over the world, why didn’t they actually try to make the world a better place, instead of start a violent uprising?  Why not send out more Martin Luther King’s or Rosa Parks or great African-Americans?  Why more thugs?

And maybe I missed this, but if no one knows about Wakanda, why were they at that meeting where T’Challa’s father is killed?  And clearly, someone somewhere knows about vibranium, since Captain’s shield is made out of it.  No one sees the ships landing to bring the spies?  Really, no one knows.

In all it’s not a bad movie, and it has entertainment value, but it’s not the beacon of hope for African-Americans that people want it to be.

How about we stop separating and just talk about a good superhero movie, not a good black superhero movie?

 

I Just Want to Teach

There have been a lot of posts on Facebook and the internet about teachers and teaching.  Teachers who are fed up with low salary, low respect, and low expectations.  This is my two cents.  Or 5 or 6.

Cent 1:  I actually don’t mind what I’m paid.  It’s not as much as it probably should be, but it’s not bad and I can live on it.  It does bother me that I don’t get paid more, but I knew that when I went in to this.

Cent 2:  I love my students.  My students are what cheer me up when I am in one of those “Why do I do this to myself?” modes.  They always make me smile–sometimes for their thoughts, sometimes for their silliness, but I’m almost always in a better mood after first block.

Cent 3:  (Here’s where I start to rant):  I want to teach.  I don’t want to go to meetings about how to teach, or what to teach.  I want to teach.  I don’t want to be given another suggestion of how to do what I’m already doing, or another “new” technique that I’ve been using for ten years that is now being called something different.

Cent 4:  I don’t want to be trained anymore!  I have been trained on how to be a leader.  I have been trained on how to write curriculum.  I have been trained on how to create assessments.  I  have been trained on how to use my gradebook.  I have been trained on how to use data.  I have been trained on how to give tests.  And then trained again, and again, and again.  Stop training me!  Believe me, I’ve got it.  Let me do it, and then if I need more training, I’ll come find you.

Cent 5:  I don’t want to write lesson plans that are of no use to me.  Why do I have to write a lesson plan that someone who is not in my content or in my classroom can read and understand so that they can (supposedly) come and teach my class? Last time I checked, when I have been out, and there’s no subs, those people have not stepped up to fill in and teach my children.  I know what I’m teaching and how I’m teaching it, isn’t that enough?

Cent 6:  Why is it my fault if a child is failing?  When does the onus fall on the student?

Cent 7:  Allow me to make choices for my classroom.  If I want to allow my students to listen to music while they’re working, because that is what works for me with my students–why does that have to be a negative?  “Hey, you’re a great teacher-you know your content, your students are engaged, your test scores are good–but, you let your students listen to music while they’re working independently–shame on you!”

Cent 8 (Yes, I know I said 6 or 7, but I still have more to say):   Turn on the stinking heat!

Cent 9:  Give the library paper for the copier!

Cent 10:  I am paid extra to run a drama club.  You kick me out of the space at least once a week without warning.  You don’t give me keys.  You give me no support, and then have the nerve to look disappointed when I have to cancel a show.

Cent 11:  Don’t tell me that the field trips I want to take are not for the “greater good” of the school, so they won’t be approved.

Cent 12:  Don’t tell me how to dress.  If I’m cleaning my room and hauling books, dress clothes are not required.  If I’m hunkered down in the library writing curriculum, I don’t need to be ready for Sunday church.  Don’t tell me that my sneakers are not professional dress and expect me to bring in a doctor’s note to prove that I have foot and knee problems.

Cent 13:  Give me time to pee and eat.  And at my convenience, not yours!

Cent 14:  Allow me to use my common sense.

Cent 15 (And I think this is my last one):  Make education, teaching and school about the kids, not your agenda.

 

 

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Kitten Kisses and the Power of Animals

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I love cats!  Well, I love all animals really, and to be honest, I’d rather help an animal more than a person.  People can be spiteful, hateful and all together loathsome; whereas most animals want nothing more than attention–food, shelter, and sometimes cuddling–although I don’t suggest you try to cuddle an alligator.

In a dual effort to a) get my son out of the house and away from video games, and b) to help my son decide whether he really wants to be a zookeeper–I have decided that he and I will volunteer at the animal shelter.

First, he surprised me by being ready to go before me.  When we got there, with absolutely no complaints, he mopped the entire building, as requested by the staff.  (I can barely get him to throw away an empty can at home).  Of course, when I asked him if he’d mop at home, he just rolled his eyes at me and said, “You’re funny, Mom.”  (That’s 13 for you.)

The rule at the shelter is that you have to do two chores before you can walk dogs or play with kittens.  So, we each did our two chores, and then the fun part.  We walked a few dogs, gave them treats, showered them with love, let them have a good Sunday.

Then came the kittens.  Kittens!  Kittens!  Who doesn’t love a kitten?  Sweet, soft, fluffy.  We each picked up as many as we could, and my whole day was made.  Why?  Not that it didn’t feel good to clean up after the animals, and wash their bowls, and clean their litter boxes.  Not that it wasn’t fun to walk the dogs, and toss them a ball,  and give them treats.  Why were the kittens the best?  Kitten kisses.

Kitten kisses, those blessings of tickling whiskers and rumbling purrs as they sniff and rub to find their way into your heart.  I was blessed with at least five kitten kisses, and my whole day, my whole week was made.  My three old ones are loving and wonderful, but all of them look at me with disinterest and mild annoyance, unless I smell like tuna, or they feel the need to be cute (only to tease me with hopes of cuddles and then run from me the minute I go to hug them too tightly).

The human race could learn a lot from kittens.  Kittens only want your love.  They do not judge, they trust ultimately, and forgive endlessly.  Animals, in general, but more specifically, pets, have a power to uplift and comfort.   If the human race could behave a little more like our common house pets, this would be a much nicer world.

And I can’t wait until next week and more kitten kisses!

Life Choices

The last two days, my English students have been reading A Wagner Matinee by Willa Cather.  For those of you not familiar, the story basically is this:

A 30-year-old, well-educated piano teacher from Boston, Georgiana, meets a young man named Howard Carpenter and runs off with him.  He is dirt poor, and the two eke out a life on the Nebraska plains.  She spends thirty years working for everyone, ruins her looks and her hands, and leaves her entire world behind, giving up music and her passion for thirty years.  When she comes into an unexpected legacy, she returns to Boston to visit her nephew, Clark, who decides to take her to a Wagner matinee in order to please her.  After the concert, she says to Clark, “I don’t want to go. . .”

It’s a story I don’t teach much, as my students don’t connect much to it, but I realized today how much Georgiana reminds me of myself.

Before I became a teacher, and before I was married and had a family, I worked in professional NY theatre.  While I was never a star, and I never really made any money at it, I worked almost consistently, in a variety of areas, for almost two years.  And even when I quit and got a real job, I ran a theatre company for several years, working as CFO, company manager, actor, designer and director.  And as a teacher, I’ve been fortunate to continue my theatrical pursuits directing and designing shows in the various schools that I’ve worked at, and as an actress in my local community theatre.

So while unlike Georgiana, I did not completely leave theatre behind, I made a choice to leave that world behind and make a new life for myself.  And while I don’t regret my decision, I often find myself, like Georgiana, crying at the overture to a musical, or getting so lost in a character in a play that I almost can’t find my way out.  I often look at the life that I’ve built for myself and wonder what would be different if I had just done one more show, or stuck it out one more year.

At the closing of each show I work on, I stay behind after the final curtain closes, as the last lights dim, and I sit in the darkened theatre, staring into the ghost light and I often cry to myself.  There’s no specific reason, but it is almost as if my heart breaks every time, with the loss of one more show–and I guess sometimes I wonder if it will be the last.  And if it ever is the last–will I become like Georgiana, who when reawakened to her love,  never wants to go back to reality.

 

I Do Suffer from White Privilege

I haven’t written in awhile–just have been too lazy to bring the laptop in, but I watched a documentary with my kids last week that got me thinking.

My college students are studying equality right now.  We watched a documentary called White Like Me.  The premise is that most whites are racist, not because they necessarily judge people by their skin color, but because they are simply not aware of what their racial biases are.  Most white people are simply not aware of what their “whitenss” gets them.  Here’s some things I learned from this documentary that I had never realized/thought off/acknowledged.

• Welfare and social programs that many of us rail against are more often utilized my poor whites
• There are far more poor whites in the U.S. than poor blacks, but poor blacks are the face of poverty in this country
• When asked to match faces to negative or positive words, such as intelligent, heroic, or excellent, both whites and blacks tend to choose white or light-skinned faces over dark.
• People are always calling for lower taxes, and many call for a return to simpler times, a.ka., the 1950s.  However, tax rate in the 1950s was 91%.
• We never hear stories of those whites who went against the status quo to help during the Civil Rights movement; we only focus on those who did the oppressing

These are just a few, but these are the ones that stood out to me.  Having grown up in California, I did live in a predominately white world.  I went to a college that was 99% white–we had two black students in the whole school.   As a teacher in a predominately black school, I realize that I really have no idea what my students are up against–and that I need to be more aware of my own personal bias.

 

 

I love Glee!

So how many of you out there watched Glee? You know, that goofy show with a bunch of kids breaking into song at random times? I loved that show when it was on for so many reasons.  I was rewatching it today, and was reminded of how much I love it!

First,  those kids are me.  I was that nerdy girl in choir who desperately wanted to be a star on Broadway–I was Rachel Berry.  I didn’t have a Kurt, at least not in high school, but I can empathize with Rachel.  For me, like those kids on Glee, choir and theatre were my second family.  I loved my choir teacher, and my theatre teacher.  We went through everything together.

Second, I see these kids in my students.  I have taught drama for years, and I see my kids, who are outcasts everywhere else, finally be themselves when they’re with my group.  They truly shine in what they love.

Third, I want to live in a world where I can randomly break out into song anytime, anywhere, and no one will look at me weird–in fact, they will join in an a really cool dance number behind me as the wind machine begins to blow.

Fourth, it introduced its viewers to all different songs, from all different places.  Broadway, R&B, 60s, 70s, 80s.  Everything is game, and everything works.

Fifth, it’s just silly.  While it did deal with some serious issues–teen pregnancy, bullying, suicide, gay rights–it’s all clothed in silly situations and fun songs–and passes time so quickly, and so well.

Sixth–it just makes me happy.

And what better reason to watch tv.

 

Random Thoughts

So, I realized my last few posts have all been about my job and my kids–and I don’t want to rant about that always.  While teaching is my biggest stress, it is also my biggest love.

So, instead, I want to just send out some random thoughts.

1.  Why is color one of the first things we mention about people?  When I teach, I’m always encouraged to feature black authors, or women authors, or latino authors.  Why can’t I just teach authors, oh and by the way, they’re . . . (choose one)
2. Am I the only one who wants a theme song?
3. Why are diamonds a girl’s best friend?  Why not cheese?
4.  Who ever decided that pineapple is good on pizza? (To my Facebook friends)
5.  Why, in most schools, do they hire a band teacher, a chorus teacher, an art teacher, but usually not a theatre teacher (Theatre teachers are usually just part of the English department).  A school would never dream of hiring a math teacher  who also happens to play the piano to be the chorus teacher (at least I don’t think so)  Why is theatre the black sheep of the arts family?
6.  Am I the only one who doesn’t find Jim Carrey funny?
7. How are saggy pants comfortable?
8. Why does everyone like pumpkin or pumpkin spice?  Pumpkin looks like its already been chewed and run through a colicky infant.  Why would you eat that?
9. Why is it a pair of scissors, or a pair of pants?  They are always connected.  If you only have one blade of a scissors or one leg of pants, they are broken.
10. I’m still waiting for my letter from Hogwarts.
11. Does love like in the movies actually exist?
12.  Have you ever watched a movie, seen the two actors kiss, and then judge their kissing ability?
13. When people die in movies, do you watch to see if you can catch them breathing?
14. Do LEGO people’s personalities change when you swap bodies?
15. Why do we drive on a parkway and park on a driveway?
16. Are we really the house pets of some giant alien?
17. Why does corn look the same coming out as going in?
18. I wish I was as flexible as a cat.
19. Why are people accused of aiding and abetting?  Those words are synonyms.  They shoud be accused of aiding and aiding some more.
20. It’s a good thing elephants don’t fly.

Lateness is okay

So, I am finishing up a semester, and as always, I have parents and students complaining about their grades.  Now, I am happy with the school I’m at, and so this is not really a complaint about that–this is a long running complaint that just came to a head today because I had to give a kid a grade and now he’s back in my class, and frankly, he’s smarmy–he’s got his Mom snowed and I have to look at him for another six months.

So, when I can make my own late policies, it is usually this:  No late work accepted, except major assignments, like papers, which are then penalized 5-10 points a day.  Absences of course do not count, and there are always exceptions.  A lot of schools have this policy:  Work can be turned in up to a certain point, usually about a week before the term is up, and no matter how late, it has to receive at least a 60%.

So, every time a quarter ends, I have kids turning in work that is 3 months old, and I have to accept it and give them a grade for it, and some, depending on their average, can pass–even though they’ve done nothing all term.  Now, I teach a college course, so I have higher standards for that course, and I was holding them to my original policy.  Unfortunately, I forgot to put it in writing (my bad), so I have to give them the grade.  (I’ve corrected that for this semester)

Here’s my problem with it.  I know that sometimes things happen, which is why I have always allowed for exceptions.  But, we are teaching entire generations of children that as long as it’s done, it doesn’t matter when it’s done.  We’ll still give you a grade.  It’s like the “every child gets a trophy” mentality.  I understand, in theory, that if you give students a zero every time they miss assignment, they may get to a point where they can never recover.  However, in my experience, if you give them the 0’s up front, 95% will step up and get it done, if you hold them accountable. (I saw this for the first 11 years of my teaching career)

If I don’t pay my mortgage, trust me, the phone calls come.  I paid my mortgage two days late once, and the phone calls started the 1st day.  I never made that mistake again.  If I don’t pay my car payment on time, I may wake up and my car is gone.  Reality doesn’t take exceptions.  It’s due when its due.  And for those that are going into college, they need to realize that deadlines are deadlines–professors will not wait five weeks for an assignment.

This is one of the many points that just irritates me so about being a teacher, and I can’t change it–no matter how much I may want to.  It’s a culture that has become acceptable, and if I try to do it differently, I become the scapegoat.   It makes me worry for the future, and it makes me tired trying to change the unchangeable.

A student made me cry

Sorry I’ve been gone a few days, but had a hectic week and didn’t want to do anything when I got home but put my feet up.  But I’ll be doing triple writing tonight, for what it’s worth.

So, it’s that time of year–the end of the semester.  My students are starting to realize that they may actually fail for the semester, and many are desperately trying to get in work and slide by with that 65%.

I teach college classes to high school students.  Meaning, we are in a high school, but they are taking a college class for both high school and college credit.  Kids who do all the college courses can graduate with both a diploma and an associates degree.  It’s a pretty good deal–I think.  However, a lot of kids who are really bright don’t really know how to deal with that kind of workload, and I have a handful that have struggled all semester.  If they fail at the end of this next week, they not only don’t get credit for their high school course (they have to repeat that semester), but they also have an F on a college transcript.  It’s a bit of a bummer, and some of them are in shock.

I had one young man who has been struggling all semster, and just couldn’t get it together. He failed his midterm last week, and it’s very unlikley he will pass for the semester.  After I had posted his midterm grade, I got an email from him the next morning that simply said, “Mrs. ——-, I think I failed.  I’m sorry.”

I broke into tears in the car.  So often, students come storming into my classroom, demanding to know why their grade is so low.  So few acknowledge that they are to blame for their failure.  So few are willing to take responsibility for their lack of effort and would rather place the blame on me.  This young man renewed my faith in my job with two short sentences.  I am doing everything in my power to make sure he gets that D, so at least he won’t have to repeat the 1st semester.

I will smile a little brighter when he walks across the stage in June and his name will be in my short list of those who make me keep going on those hard days.