My First Seminar

Life is full of firsts. First steps, first word, first day of school, first graduation...
There's even a first time for my mother to use the word "pro" (that was two seconds ago) ... ...

At the end of 12 years of schooling, and after many prolonged conversations with some of my students' parents, I decided that the time has come for yet another first: my first seminar.

As a first generation student in America, and the first child to survive the entire schooling process from Kindergarten Day 1 through High School Graduation, I have a lot of stories and experiences to share. As a teacher, I have gathered even more stories and observations on the minds and emotions of children/students.
What I noticed, particularly, was the confusion that my mom and I felt with parts of the entire process. We had to figure out a lot of things for ourselves, often times at the last minute. Many times, things can turn out ok. But with something as big as our future on the line, it's scary to think about all the "what ifs" that can result if we didn't make that deadline, or didn't find out about a certain event.

After my JHU acceptance came, I realized that I didn't want other parents and students to be plagued with the same confusion and worrying I experienced. I wanted to make the process as smooth as possible, clear up questions, and provide insight into the child and student's point of view on the whole matter of education and parenting. The things that worked for me, the things that were a pain, the things that were a complete waste of time -- I told all.

I do have to say that the seminar was quite a success (despite the one father who came, took pictures of all my slides, and left without saying even a "thank you" or "goodbye"). The parents seemed to like it, and I liked the fact that they were so interested and open in listening to a college student's words and input. In part, I would like to thank them for being a great first audience.

Will there be more? Of course. In life, as long as there is a first, there will be more to follow. Life is all about breaking ground, and tonight, I added yet another first to my life.

Mischief Managed!

Cried my eyes out (or I would have if I knew how to cry with contacts)
Laughed without any dignity left
Screamed like a crazy fangirl; I even brought a cloak to the theatre

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2; the midnight showing.
People preordered tickets weeks ahead of time (myself included). Viewers began filling into the theatre as early as 9pm. The lines for popcorn went on and on. Mad-eye Moody showed up again (but I didn't park next to him this time). No one dared recycle the plastic 3D Harry Potter glasses.
I've never seen so many crazy fans, never seen a more crowded theatre, never been in heavier traffic. Never have I been so touched by fictional characters. Never has a book saga taken the world by such an intense and epic storm.

I do feel bad for Draco Malfoy. I love Mrs. Weasley. I love the whole Weasley family, and I am still thoroughly traumatized about Fred. Mcgonagall is my new role model.

It was the movie event of our lifetimes and possibly the most amazing experience I have ever had the pleasure to enjoy.

From third grade to now, 9 years of reading, watching, waiting...
It was well worth it.

Going into the theatre, I felt a sense of total confusion at what I should do with my life after the day was over. Harry Potter marked my entire childhood. From sneaked past bedtime readings to Wizard Week in my 4th grade, dueling in my cousin's house to my plans to join the school Quidditch team, the magic has never left me. For millions of us, we assumed this would mark the end of not just our childhood, but an entire era.
But at the end, I did not lament my lost childhood. It's still here, all around us, living in the costumed movie watchers, the pricey wands from Florida, hidden secrets and dreams we hold in all of us.

In 200 years, Harry Potter will be a classic, living forever on as all the great books do.

The magic doesn't end. It never ends. Harry Potter: The true mark of our generation, our time.

Hearing problems

Alena heard "when I throw up I want to be artist"
Sally heard "when I grow up I want to be Irish"

The actual line: when I grow up I want to be artist
~4 year old student <3

"My Thinking is Ugly"

Student: my thinking is ugly
Miss Jess: your thinking cannot be ugly. That's like saying your brain is ugly. I guarantee you your brain is not ugly.
Student: But I don't know what to write!

True that. 45 minutes had passed and he had written 3 lines. My requirement for the 4th grade writing assignment was 1 page, to the very last line, no exceptions.

This is a problem plaguing the youth of America. Students either don't know how to put their ideas and thoughts into coherent words on paper, or just don't know how to write.
I have had students come to me with minds as blank as copy paper, as empty as our nation's treasury. It takes me several weeks to tap into the childish creativities and imaginations that have been buried away by too many hours and years of endless worksheets, practice workbooks, math drills, and memorized facts and concepts.

It's a very scary reality. Some of these students can do multiplication as quickly as I can, but when it comes to applying the learned facts to word problems, they draw blanks.
They have all memorized the definitions for adjectives, adverbs, and other various parts of speech. But their minds can't come up with any really interesting examples, or move on to the even more important task of using it in their writing. All memorization, no application.
They're like computers. They have difficulty thinking on their own. (sometimes, I think even cleverbot is more creative than some of the kids that have come across my classroom).

All laments aside though, this is not the end of the world. They're young, many of them have barely reached a decade's worth of life. Their minds are like sponges -- they can absorb anything and everything. We just have to provide them with the right things to absorb. They shouldn't be doused in the commonly repetitive and factory refined bottled water. They need creative juices, tropical punch, spring water, experimental mixes, the occasional dose of something stronger. Then we will have the next generation of fearless, creative thinkers. Then, anything and everything will be possible, in all its entirety.

We'll play real Wizard Quidditch on low gravitation fields, as pigs fly over the moon.

Sing for Hope - Pianos in Times Square

June 18th - July 2nd, 2011.

The organization Sing for Hope placed 88 decorated pianos around the city of New York, throughout all five boroughs. This project, known as Pop Up Pianos, was created to provide people of all ages, situations, conditions, languages, etc. an opportunity to have access to the arts. Each piano was painted/decorated by a Volunteer artist. Among these included Isaac Mizrahi (who made a pink piano), Diane von Furstenberg, Kate Spade, and Walker Fee (the only tape-art piano out of all 88).

Me, being the halfway self-proclaimed pianist, decided that I just had to take this chance to go to New York and play these pianos.
So on the very last day of this event, I, with my mom and sister, ventured out to New York City to play pianos in Times Square.
After very filling lunch at Max Brenner consisting of half a chocolate pizza, a small fudge filled chocolate cake thing, a straight up shot of chocolate, and waffle fries, we walked off the calories by going 30 blocks uptown.
Upon reaching the edge of Times Square, I found my first piano -- the "Drips" Upright Piano.
The keys were kind of loose and a little sticky, but it was a pleasure to play.

The next piano was even better. First of all, it was gorgeous. There was no paint on it -- the peacock and peony designs were all taped on. Secondly, it was right in front of the Marriott Hotel. The first piano was more to the side, the experimental one that people, including me, tried out as they passed by. This piano, "Peacocks and Peonies," was the pro piano.
At first, I was afraid to play. I hadn't taken lessons in seven years, hadn't touched a piano in weeks. I didn't want to shame myself in front of everyone who could play beautifully.

But when the awkward silence came as people looked at each other, silently egging on the other to play, I sat down at the bench and played my Beethoven, some contemporary music, movie soundtracks...
Two amazing things did happen though.

1. There was this one guy who played like I had never seen before. He played so quickly, fingers gliding up and down all over the 88 black and white keys, yet it looked so effortless. I was so entranced that I had to go talk to him. I needed advice. I hadn't been able to get my fingers to speed for years. His response? "You need to practice your technique. You need to try harder. I believe you can do it."
   The next day, I went home, pulled out the finger exercise and technique books I hadn't touched in 10 years, and played. God I'm out of practice.
2. I met the artist who designed the piano (Walker Fee). He plays really well, and is really, really nice.

Everything from Chopsticks to Chopin (I can't actually play Chopin) was swelling over the streets of New York City from Manhattan to Staten Island. It was the most beautiful thing that any person could ever be a part of.