It's the last week of classes and I'm surprisingly calm about final exams and final projects. Perhaps I condensed so many worries these past two quarters that I used up all of my year-allotted worry points. No matter. I'm not complaining. Knowing me and my neuroses, this may not last much longer, but that's something I'm also OK with. Worry keeps me motivated. It's part of my essential DNA.
Anyway, I mention this odd sense of calm because today I completed one final "project:" a "micro-teaching session" for the course I'm teaching this spring. The assignment was to conduct a "mini-lesson" with the other teaching facilitators, get feedback, learn what to do with students who will be enrolled in the class, and realize that I'm probably trying to pack in too much reading in too little time. I wasn't all that nervous about it; I've read the stories I'm teaching a billion times (and still love them) and I figured whatever would happen, would happen.
However, I was concerned about how the other facilitators would react to the reading. I feared that they would sit down with the story I sent out and think it was stupid. Their validation of the material's quality felt (feels) important to me because I trust their opinions. Somehow, I felt like someone would stare at the story and think: "What's the point? Why did I bother reading this?" I often get defensive about reading I enjoy, trying to justify it and its importance even in the face of criticism. Then, of course, I feel bad about getting defensive and, on top of it all, feel bad when other people don't enjoy what I enjoy because somehow what I chose to enjoy isn't good enough if other people don't like it.
Phew. What a mouthful. It probably goes without saying that I care a lot about what other people think.
When I started class, I asked how many people had done the reading.
"I didn't receive it," was the first response I heard.
"Wait, what? You didn't receive it?" my voice grew louder, higher-pitched. Oh my God. This lesson was totally ruined; everything I wanted to discuss was based on this ONE reading. If no one read the story, how in the world was this lesson even going to be possible?
Our instructor, Kumiko, suggested that we all read the story together since it was so short. I sighed. This was NOT how I wanted to spend the time. It seemed like a waste of valuable "teaching" time to do a read around, but I complied; I didn't really have an option.
But it worked. I read it out loud, people listened, we discussed.
The best part was, the discussion worked well, too, and absolutely no one questioned the quality of the story. Everyone got what the story was about and were able to work beyond the story and talk about larger issues relating to the creative nonfiction genre and how the story functioned within that genre. It was amazing. The conversation veered in directions I didn't predict, but it was exhilarating to mull over different ideas, to debate questions we had, and to value each other's opinions.
It's easy to feel alone in one's enthusiasm, but with today's lesson, the process of sharing an excitement to discover and to appreciate one another's opinions completely made my day.
Showing posts with label USIE. Show all posts
Showing posts with label USIE. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Today I Appreciate Coloring
Fresh Crayola markers, where the tips are sharp, the color is bright, and the ink flows out smoothly, is one of life's greatest joys. There's little more satisfying in the world than sitting down with a coloring book page armed with a new bold, red marker, ready to fill in between the lines.
I colored in a rose today in my USIE facilitator class (as a "microteaching" exercise for one of the other facilitators and her class on the Psychology of Arts & Crafts) and I must admit that I was pretty proud of it, all things considered. I drew it with a little bit of artistic depth; the petals had a yellow lining while the inside of the petals were red and the purple stem grew blue AND purple leaves. Beat that, "Beauty and the Beast!" You don't even understand what a REAL rose is until you've seen one with a purple stem!
Anyway, the point of the exercise was not exactly to gain a sense of base-level satisfaction at the minute accomplishment of just coloring something in between the lines (we led into a discussion of how gender roles/creativity are defined by what we choose to color, how we color it, in what colors, etc.), but there was a sense of calm and relaxation that I experienced when coloring. Maybe it was just the fact that I was doing something so mind-numblingly simple yet so undeniably relaxing that made the exercise stand out in my mind. I'm not even a very good colorer (I manage to always get outside the lines SOMEHOW), but with only the goal of filling in something and trying to make it "pretty," I felt completely at ease and I left class feeling oddly energized.
Maybe a trip to the arts & crafts section of the pharmacy down in Westwood is in order. There are some great Disney princess coloring book pages online. I think Cinderella would look rad with some pink hair.
I colored in a rose today in my USIE facilitator class (as a "microteaching" exercise for one of the other facilitators and her class on the Psychology of Arts & Crafts) and I must admit that I was pretty proud of it, all things considered. I drew it with a little bit of artistic depth; the petals had a yellow lining while the inside of the petals were red and the purple stem grew blue AND purple leaves. Beat that, "Beauty and the Beast!" You don't even understand what a REAL rose is until you've seen one with a purple stem!
Anyway, the point of the exercise was not exactly to gain a sense of base-level satisfaction at the minute accomplishment of just coloring something in between the lines (we led into a discussion of how gender roles/creativity are defined by what we choose to color, how we color it, in what colors, etc.), but there was a sense of calm and relaxation that I experienced when coloring. Maybe it was just the fact that I was doing something so mind-numblingly simple yet so undeniably relaxing that made the exercise stand out in my mind. I'm not even a very good colorer (I manage to always get outside the lines SOMEHOW), but with only the goal of filling in something and trying to make it "pretty," I felt completely at ease and I left class feeling oddly energized.
Maybe a trip to the arts & crafts section of the pharmacy down in Westwood is in order. There are some great Disney princess coloring book pages online. I think Cinderella would look rad with some pink hair.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Today I Appreciate the Self-Righteous, Eclectic Coffee Shop
Eek, I've missed two days of posting! It's been a crazy, busy week first week of school, but I took some notes on the past few days, so this will be an extra-special THR (look how an acronym enhances the cool factor of this blog) post with a few days' worth of appreciations in one.
Let me also preface this post by thanking everyone for thoughtful comments on the first few posts. The encouragement really helps keep me going, so thank you. :)
So, today, I felt a little claustrophobic in Westwood and decided to get coffee in Santa Monica. This tends to happen on Friday afternoons when I have no other class obligations or meetings or work. Keeping Fridays free is one of the greatest things I've ever done for myself; I can work all day on Saturday and Sunday if I'd like, but there's something psychologically pleasant and rewarding about having a FREE (read: "I-get-to-do-whatever-I-want-so-there") Friday. This is not to say I keep my Fridays homework-less necessarily, but I get to do it at my own pace and as a student, where obligations run one's life, that's probably the most marvelous feeling in the world.
Because of the nature of the column I write for "The Daily Bruin" (unofficially called "Exploring L.A.," offically called nothing), I tend to read NFT (Not For Tourists) and Losanjealous pretty regularly and discovered in NFT a coffee shop in East Santa Monica that makes coffee from a siphon.
What's a siphon? It's this: a tube running from the liquid in a vessel to a lower level outside the vessel so that atmospheric pressure forces the liquid through the tube (definition from wordnet.princeton.edu/perl/webwn). Yes, coffee comes out of those liquid pressure tube things. Neat, huh?
Hence, I undertook a question to find this siphon coffee place after class, toting a heavy backpack and directions scrawled on to a tiny notepad. Let me say that I have a terrible, terrible sense of direction, so I wrote down very specific instructions (including, "if you hit this street, you've gone the wrong way. If you hit THIS street, you're going the right way! Hooray!").
Walking off the bus past Wilshire Boulevard, I walked through a neighborhood of palm-tree lined streets and low-rise pastel-colored apartments with small balconies and little, square garages right near the street. It was the sort of charming West L.A. neighborhood that helps you realize that in spite of all of L.A.'s general lack of charming, refreshing pockets of humanity and character exist. It really elevates one's spirits to know that there are people living in peaceful alcoves of a city that inherently cannot be described as "peaceful."
Cafe Balcony is part of a strip mall and the sign outside merely reads "CAFE" in giant block lettering. It could just have easily read "BAIL BONDS" or "LIQUOR" as it was an inconspicuous strip mall shop facing loud, urban Santa Monica Boulevard. Yet upon stepping inside, the place engendered all of the warmth, character, and soul that the outside lacked. I was the first one in the shop (as I had arrived there on bus an hour before it opened, so I just read outside for an hour. Woops.) and I ordered an iced Americano and sat for two hours, doing homework, reading, and writing. The cafe's red walls, mismatched wooden chairs, and wacky music selection (ranging from electro-pop to alternative folk rock to smooth jazz to - get this - opera) felt like a cozy place to settle in for the day.
With each breath I took, the smell of coffee warmed me all the way through my body. Sitting there is what I imagine going to a cafe in Paris would be like (as cliche as that sounds): no one rushes you, everyone is reading their own great books and simply enjoying time to reflect, focus, and rejuvenate. I appreciate coffee shops that don't rush you out, that don't tell you when to leave, and don't encourage you to act "artsy" if you don't want to. There are a lot of pretentions around sitting in a coffee shop and "being an artist," but when it comes down to it, when you have a place like Cafe Balcony that is simply pleasant and encourages time to just sit and reflect and be, that's enough for me to not worry about what anyone else may think of me. That must ultimately be the most freeing experience and I appreciate it after a week of feeling like I had to live up to academic/social expectations.
As far as my other past few days go, I'm simply going to state what I appreciated: Wednesday I appreciated my USIE classmates (that is, other students teaching undergraduate seminars at UCLA in the spring like me) and Thursday I appreciated dancing with my co-workers to Depeche Mode (what a freeing experience that was, too!).
What a peaceful, lovely day thus far.
Let me also preface this post by thanking everyone for thoughtful comments on the first few posts. The encouragement really helps keep me going, so thank you. :)
So, today, I felt a little claustrophobic in Westwood and decided to get coffee in Santa Monica. This tends to happen on Friday afternoons when I have no other class obligations or meetings or work. Keeping Fridays free is one of the greatest things I've ever done for myself; I can work all day on Saturday and Sunday if I'd like, but there's something psychologically pleasant and rewarding about having a FREE (read: "I-get-to-do-whatever-I-want-so-there") Friday. This is not to say I keep my Fridays homework-less necessarily, but I get to do it at my own pace and as a student, where obligations run one's life, that's probably the most marvelous feeling in the world.
Because of the nature of the column I write for "The Daily Bruin" (unofficially called "Exploring L.A.," offically called nothing), I tend to read NFT (Not For Tourists) and Losanjealous pretty regularly and discovered in NFT a coffee shop in East Santa Monica that makes coffee from a siphon.
What's a siphon? It's this: a tube running from the liquid in a vessel to a lower level outside the vessel so that atmospheric pressure forces the liquid through the tube (definition from wordnet.princeton.edu/perl/webwn). Yes, coffee comes out of those liquid pressure tube things. Neat, huh?
Hence, I undertook a question to find this siphon coffee place after class, toting a heavy backpack and directions scrawled on to a tiny notepad. Let me say that I have a terrible, terrible sense of direction, so I wrote down very specific instructions (including, "if you hit this street, you've gone the wrong way. If you hit THIS street, you're going the right way! Hooray!").
Walking off the bus past Wilshire Boulevard, I walked through a neighborhood of palm-tree lined streets and low-rise pastel-colored apartments with small balconies and little, square garages right near the street. It was the sort of charming West L.A. neighborhood that helps you realize that in spite of all of L.A.'s general lack of charming, refreshing pockets of humanity and character exist. It really elevates one's spirits to know that there are people living in peaceful alcoves of a city that inherently cannot be described as "peaceful."
Cafe Balcony is part of a strip mall and the sign outside merely reads "CAFE" in giant block lettering. It could just have easily read "BAIL BONDS" or "LIQUOR" as it was an inconspicuous strip mall shop facing loud, urban Santa Monica Boulevard. Yet upon stepping inside, the place engendered all of the warmth, character, and soul that the outside lacked. I was the first one in the shop (as I had arrived there on bus an hour before it opened, so I just read outside for an hour. Woops.) and I ordered an iced Americano and sat for two hours, doing homework, reading, and writing. The cafe's red walls, mismatched wooden chairs, and wacky music selection (ranging from electro-pop to alternative folk rock to smooth jazz to - get this - opera) felt like a cozy place to settle in for the day.
With each breath I took, the smell of coffee warmed me all the way through my body. Sitting there is what I imagine going to a cafe in Paris would be like (as cliche as that sounds): no one rushes you, everyone is reading their own great books and simply enjoying time to reflect, focus, and rejuvenate. I appreciate coffee shops that don't rush you out, that don't tell you when to leave, and don't encourage you to act "artsy" if you don't want to. There are a lot of pretentions around sitting in a coffee shop and "being an artist," but when it comes down to it, when you have a place like Cafe Balcony that is simply pleasant and encourages time to just sit and reflect and be, that's enough for me to not worry about what anyone else may think of me. That must ultimately be the most freeing experience and I appreciate it after a week of feeling like I had to live up to academic/social expectations.
As far as my other past few days go, I'm simply going to state what I appreciated: Wednesday I appreciated my USIE classmates (that is, other students teaching undergraduate seminars at UCLA in the spring like me) and Thursday I appreciated dancing with my co-workers to Depeche Mode (what a freeing experience that was, too!).
What a peaceful, lovely day thus far.
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