A first

In the last four years, I've learned a kind of sign language called SEE so that I can communicate with a kid (Call him M) in my group who is deaf and uses a cochlear implant. That's the serious part... forthcoming is the part where I can hardly TYPE these words without blushing, and dying laughing.

This afternoon I was playing a game with some kids (Including M). It's a little like a cross between Set and Boggle. Anyway, a third grader said "I wish there was a 'T' so I could spell 'Shit'." She said it so matter-of-factly, I adored her for it. She smiled at me when I said, shocked and charmed "That's a bad word, you can't say that here." She nodded. I congratulated myself on my measured reaction. I'ts not life and death, noone's in trouble. I'm not freaking out like her "real" teacher might be, because I'm cool. All the kids who are old enough (and one precocious Kindergartner with big sisters) gasp and look at each other and me, frantically. I continue playing it cool.

M says "What did she say?"

All 5 sets of eyes swing over to me, tennis-spectators' style. They've seen me interpret as much as I possibly can for M, even stuff that he's bored by or doesn't want to "hear".

"She said a bad word, and I..."
"Which one?"

I hoped I could get out of this somewhat gracefully.

"The 'S-H' one." beat... beat...

"What is that word?"

I feel a tremendous urge NOT to censor. Generally, when kids use language they shouldn't use around me, I use it back to them in my message, to disempower the word, take the sting out. "Please quit saying "hell" in this classroom, you know that's not appropriate." is a sentence I've used many a time. (With more complicated language when I worked with adolescents.)

At that moment though, I had to TEACH the kid a cuss he doesn't know... in front of other kids who KNOW the word and know that a teacher should NOT be saying it in any form. The kids stared at me as though I was a volcano about to explode, a kid about to eat something on a dare... could it happen?!!

I "whisper" to M. I fingerspell behind my hand s-h-i-t. He watches attentively. I'm relieved by his wise nod.

"How do you say that?" ugh!
"I'll tell you later."
"How do you say it? I want to know!"
"I can't say it, M. I'm a teacher and you're my kids I can't say a bad word right now."
"Write it down and I'll sound it out."

Ok. Fine. I'll rely on literacy practice to rationalize this one. Better on my notepad than on some bathroom wall, I guessed. Astounded at what I was doing, I wrote "SHIT" in all capital letters on the page because capitals are easier for kids to sound out and I wanted this over as quickly as possible. The other kids, compassionate as always stayed quiet and didn't laugh or anything. They could see that this was just another kind of development, another way to pick up information to which they already had access.

It hadn't occurred to me that he would sound it out OUT LOUD.
"Shit" he said clearly, looking at my pad.
I tried not to laugh and not to look at any of the other kids.
"Yes. Good reading. Now don't say it anymore, it's a bad word that you can't say at school or here."
"Ok. What does it mean?"
"It's another name for poop. But it's not just a bathroom word, it's a BAD word and you might get in trouble for saying it."

and then it was over. The other kids have all been trained in careful politeness, and they acted as though nothing had just happened. As I stared at the letter cards, I thought of my sister who told me that women in the deaf community tended to get pregnant more often by accident because they miss out on so much nuance and overheard sex education that the rest of us pick up from our surroundings and popular culture. I comforted myself with this.

I told his dad at pick up time, of course. No big whoop, which is what I expected.
"Third grade, that's about right." He said. M came over.
"What are you talking about?"

We both started signing. I said "I told him that I taught you a bad word."
"Oh yeah. Shit."
I giggled a little I think and reminded him not to say it. His dad clarified "it's rude". I like that better. As someone who cusses all the time (outside of the classroom) I obviously don't feel that the word is "bad". But I know that it's rude, and that's why I didn't point it out to the little girl when all the letters for piss came up.

If you must wear fur-lined gloves...

for goodness sakes, don't lose them in the PCC.

*for you non-Seattlites, PCC is the grocery store that's so organic and vegan friendly that it looks down it's community-minded nose at Whole FOods.

A cashier found it and accused it's owner (nowhere to be seen) of slaughtering innocent tribbles for fashion. His pal started the ridicule from the other end: who would be wearing fun-edged gloves on a 50 degree day?! Either way, NOONE claimed that glove.

?

apparently these signs are appearing all over Canada.

Going Easy

Yesterday, I played Go with a 7 year old. I taught him the game some time ago, and he asked me "Go easy on me though. I'm not that good." I told him I'd help him play, but that I wouldn't really go easy on him. I showed him that in Go, there's a rule that provides for one player to have a handicap, so we set him up with a 5 stone advantage and then we started to play. After just a few turns I said "You can change your mind if you want, but I'm going to show you something that you could have done." I showed him and he changed his move to the better one and we kept playing. This happened periodically, and then after a little while another kid came. She has more practice with Go and she gave him advice and helped him talk through his moves. I stopped pointing out obvious moves because his friend was doing such a good job. After awhile, another (even more skilled) kid joined them and he had two advisers. At one point, I made a really cool move, and he said "KENDRA! You're not going easy enough on me!"

Going easy is an interesting thing. I explained that I was one person playing against three people, and that I wouldn't not capture his pieces to make him feel good. We wouldn't be playing a game if I did that! Then, later I played Bingo with some Kindergartners. When one kid who's challenged by patience and self-control was really on edge because he'd gone an astounding 6 turns without placing a marker on his card I TOTALLY looked and made sure that the next one I picked would be on his card. He was relieved and didn't lose it and I had no sense of guilt or anything over how much easier I had made the game.

What's that about? I don't particularly ENJOY bingo, in the same way that I love Go. I'm crazy about both kids though, and they both wanted to do well. Is it because one kid had the wherewithal to ASK for what he wanted and the other one just said "OH NO! I Don't Have THAT ONE!" at an increasingly loud volume? It's not generally my style to give kids what they want when they yell at me.... that teaches bad habits that embarrass me later when we're in public.

After I won that game, I played the kid's adviser number one. I told her I'd give her a bigger handicap, but I wouldn't avoid good moves just because she's a kid because we were playing a game and games are fun and I want to have fun too. We played the game and she was stunned that she lost. She's seven, and I taught her how to play the game, and she couldn't believe that I won. (!) I think maybe THAT's why I don't want to "go easy". I remember where I was when I beat my dad at chess (confidential to dad: if you were going easy on me back in third grade, kindly keep your damn mouth shut) because that seemed like something big. I also remember the first time I actually knew the answer to a question when I watched my folks playing trivial pursuit. (It was something about an elephant.) This is because I was a kid around adults who played games for fun, not to teach me anything about who I am. I lost a lot of games.

Perhaps that's it. I play games with kids because I love to play games, not because victory might make them feel good. I've taught kids how to play more games than I can count. If "going easy" is pretending that I didn't see that double jump, or letting you have my rook, I have NEVER gone easy on a kid at a game that I like. (I have however stacked the deck at Candy Land AND Chutes and Ladders...and I refuse to play Mousetrap... ever, no matter what.) When kids are disappointed that I don't "go easy", maybe they're used to grown ups treating games like I treat bingo. (Which is NOT a game, in my view, but a way to trick children into learning to memorize spelling words, college students into spending some time not drinking and old people out of their precious time and money.) I play games like they're FUN instead.

(Whew. I'm glad I figured that out... I was thinking that I might just be an inconsistent meanie.)

It's time....

When Z and I first decided to move to Seattle, we told everyone... it'll be two or three years. This month, it's been 7 years since we climbed out of that U-haul, and we've decided that we're ready to pack it back up again.

There are so many reasons why we're moving, and why now, but the biggest reason is that we both feel the need to be closer to our family. I am so excited... AND everytime we tell folks out here, I feel like I'm breaking up with them.

We've got plenty of time... Z and I love love love summer in Seattle, so we won't be leaving until August. It's exciting and wonderful, and we're enjoying imagining what will come next.

Happy Valentine's Day

Ze Frank, is, in many ways, my hero.

I wanted inspiration, but all I got was this adult diaper commercial with a woman doing tai chi.

Wednesday night, the email went out "Obama will be making an appearance in Seattle on Friday!" Lots of folks at work invited me (I wear an Obama button on my purse) and I carefully invited lots of people. (It goes w/o saying that most of the folks at a progressive hippy-dippy preschool will be voting for Obama or Clinton, and most of us are gentle enough with one another to not be unkind about choosing one or the other, but one must'nt offend.) I had an appointment that morning that I couldn't reschedule (Everything's fine, thanks for asking.) but I thought I could make it in. Door's were scheduled to open at 11 and I could get there by 11:15... he wasn't going to sell out Key Arena by THEN.

WRONG. It was awesome, like a big circus. The doors had already closed by the time I got there, and there were still thousands of us hanging around wondering what was next. Nobody was sure. We'd see a crowd near a door and line up behind them as easily as possible, alternately calling other people for more information or straining to hear the people around us guess about what was happening. I wandered from one door to the next pretty comfortable already with the idea that I wouldn't get in, just enjoying the mass of people. It was gorgeous.

I've been to a lot of rallies and marches since I moved to Seattle, and often there's a sense of... agency, or entitelment or something. The guy dressed like the statue of liberty knows EXACTLY what he's doing here and why it's right, and makes sure that as many people as possible can be enlightened by him as possible. The hippie family with the dirty faced toddlers carrying home made signs that say "Please Mr. Bush, use your words." are certain that the statue of liberty guy is just a Fremont freak who probably eats refined sugar and has never called his senators. The clog-ged folks from the Service Committee of Friends are tired of carrying their huge banner and wish all these johnny-come-lately folks would start donating to the people who are actually doing the work to end the war. Almost all of these folks are white, unless you're at the Black Dollar Days or the Martin Luther King Day March.

But here, at Key Arena, everyone had a look on their faces like they were the luckiest people on the planet to be here. (I didn't bring my camera. Ours is big and clunky... I've got to get a cool little one.) There were teenagers, and grandmothers, and none of us were showing off for one another (ok, the teenagers were, but it's not their fault). We were proud of each other and grateful that together we made a tremendous crowd. Our caucus was the next day, and we could look over a sea of people and feel sure that most of us (and our friends and families) would turn out to vote for Obama. A caucus is an elitist, activist way to vote and is NOT democratic but it's really inspiring, and for us all to have a little taste of what Saturday looked like made the trip worth it before Senator Obama even took the stage.

After awhile a voice came on the loudspeaker, asking us to slowly and calmly back away from the doors because there was no room inside. Again, I felt a surge of camaraderie as thousands of Seattlites turned (slowly AND calmly) and put our cellphones to our ears to check in with someone else about what comes next. They made plans about work, and transportation and who knows what else. Lots of people stayed outside and waited and hours later heard the speech through loudspeakers. I rode the bus up the hill with them later. I heard that Senator Obama even came outside to talk with them and thank them. My pal Stevie T was inside, but I had already tried to call him and had learned that it was too loud there for him to hear me. I texted him and Z that I couldn't get in. They both asked the same thing: if I was finding a nearby bar to watch in.

By the time I got their messages, I was standing outside of "Floyd's place" a barbeque joint and sports bar. I had already watched two groups of folks peer inside, say "They have tv's" then say "There's a bunch of us, I bet if we asked them to, they'd change the channel." then walk in. I looked at the menu (there is a sculpture of a pig dancing with a cow spinning above the front door, an omen "Vegetarians stay away!") and did not feel the hope of moments before. Eventually, though I went in, sat next to two dudes in Obama t-shirts, double checked and found that I could eat macaroni and cheese or nachos. I chose nachos. The place was a mad house. I am sure that they are no busier or rowdier on a Friday night at midnight than they were on that Friday afternoon at 11:30. There was only one barstaff, one floor person, one barback and one cook and EVERYONE wanted food and beer now. (Except for me, who had foolishly skipped breakfast. I didn't want beer.)

It was a tricky and exhausting thing because we all still felt this great thing about each other, but we were also waiting forever for food, and beer and our candidate. We'd heard that he'd be on at noon, so we hurried to discover what channel to watch. Everyone was nervous because most of the tv's were showing college basketball and one was on Cnn. I don't watch the news, so I was surprised to find that CNN was so ... sordid and yechy. We were all sure it'd be on KING 5, so at one point I was charmed to be sitting in a bar, watching Days of our Lives against our will. I kept thinking of how much we all said we wanted change, and yet, I recognized the "mom" as the "rebellious teenager with an evil twin" from when I was an adolescent watching the show.

Of course, folks chanted from time to time, which just wasn't nice (the Man hadn't showed up to keep us down. We were kept down by tv networks.) but felt just perfect and perfectly awful. The one guy who could reach a television kept changing the channel based on tips from his neighbors until the bartender told him to keep his hands to himself. We ended up getting the same 5 minutes of the speech from MSNBC and CNN(weirdly not the FIRST 5, or the last just a 5 minute chunk from the middle).
When they showed part of Clinton's speech in Seattle from the day before the bartender said "Because what we really need is a Mom... the founding fathers have left us!"

(The estimates say there were about 21,000 people there... 18,000 inside and 3,000 listening outside, but there were more. There were at least 5,000 people who descended upon lower Queen Anne's bars, restaurants and stores.) I went to work late, of course, and then had to describe that no, I wasn't really AT the rally, but it was worthwhile somehow.

This valentine's day email...

was brought to you by the GOP.
As Ze Frank pointed out, these are pathetic, and I think that someone out there could do better.



I've got loads to blog about the caucus last Saturday, but not yet loads of time.

I am a delegate for our legislative convention in April, and Z is an alternate. (Our precinct went 5-1 Obama. It was awesome.)

More to come...
including some serious skepticism on the matter of super delegates.

Overheard outside the Obama rally

Among the thousands-strong throngs of us who were left out of the packed Key Arena were two skinny black jeans-clad punk teenage girls. One of them was clearly still learning to smoke as she said...

"But you donot' know... he could turn out to be a pedophile, and you'd like have his name on your body forever."

"But he's NOT a pedophile."


-- I imagined that this was a conversation about getting an Obama tattoo.

Z points out that this conversation could (and should) happen whenever one considers getting a tattoo with a person's name on it. (Unless your last name is Gray, in which case something deeper than thought goes into it, clearly.)

I used to make fun of people who said

"When things calm down..."

Because, I preferred to keep all things calm. I skipped through the parts about "stress management" because I was skillful at the first step of "stress management" which is stay out of THAT mess. I had "good boundaries" about "saying no" and I "made time for myself" on a regular basis. I'm unsure exactly when and how things shifted, but I apparently stepped on that slippery slope, and here I am at the bottom of Hectic Hill.

Saturday will be the Washington State Caucus. For the last two weeks, I've been reading and canvassing and making calls on my break to ask my neighbors to support Obama at the Caucus. Washington has this crazy system where the state holds a primary, but the state Democratic Party chooses their delegates at a caucus 10 days earlier. Many voters receive their primary ballot in the mail (most people here vote by mail) and figure it must count, and then skip the caucus because they feel they have better ways to spend their Saturday. This means that the candidate with the most informed (about the caucus) voters will win the Democratic delegates. (Only about 2% of voters attend the caucus here, historically.) This is crazy and means that there's a lot that can be done here on Saturday.

It's a very exciting time.

Common Sense

If you decide to cut your nails while waiting for the bus, DON'T do it when your fingers are so cold you can no longer really feel them.

Even if you are REALLY done with them.

That's free. You can pass that on to your friends if you like.