Jump Down Turn Around Pick A Bale of Cotton

Ya wanna jump down turn around (Pick a Bale of Cotton) Do ya wanna jump down turn around (Pick a Bale a Day) Do ya wanna jump down turn around (Pick a Bale of Cotton) Do ya wanna jump down turn around (Pick a Bale a Day) Whoa Whoa Lordie (Pick a Bale of Cotton) Whoa Whoa Lordie (Pick a Bale a Day) Whoa Lordie (Pick a Bale of Cotton) Do ya wanna jump down turn around (Pick a Bale of Cotton) Do ya wanna jump down turn around (Pick a Bale a Day) Do ya wanna jump down turn around..."

I heard this go by recently and the tune haunts me and harkens back to days of yore ;)  The melody and energy of the song are both energizing and has been stuck in my head like a tunneling ear-worm.

I learned this song at the knee of my grandmother when I was small.  I can still remember her acting it out for me.  She had picked a lot of cotton in her day.  Her hands were roughly worn, but still always brought joy.  She told me once that she would leave picking cotton to go up to the house to have a baby.   She showed me cotton bolls when I was tiny, I remember how they pricked and scratched.   She didn't have to pick in the fields anymore because they had some newfangled cotton-picking machine.

I was humming it at school the other day and a child asked me what the song was.  I sang pretty much the above lyrics with joy (I am known for interpretive dance). Some of the kids thought it was catchy and one kid said "Miss, that's racist."

I asked how.  The kid said "That's making fun of black people."

I asked how.  She said, "That's a slave song."

pause

I asked her how she knew that.  She said, "Well, that's just my opinion"

I asked her if she'd ever known any slaves.  No.  I asked her if she'd ever known anyone who picked cotton.  No.

People make assumptions.  My Cherokee/English grandmother picked cotton and showed ME how she did it.  I don't know if I know anyone else who can say that.  I think I own that song.

FWIW

Welcome to the Grand Opening of the Dog Park Everyone!

Yesterday, the White Rock Dog Park reopened after some months.  We'd gone up there last week when it was supposed to open initially, but after all the rain we've had lately, it was probably good to let it dry out a week.

We started off at the small dog side. Mike was funny, he didn't want to go run as much as he wanted Mark to walk around the place with him.  I had my iPad and was content to try to catch up a few pages on our book club book.  Mike got bored, so Mark took him over to the dog launch and I just sat on the bench in the shade and read and pet occasional dogs that go by. They usually pet me first.

While I was reading I felt a nudge and there was a very wet fox terrier with a show dog cut that asked very politely if I would scratch an itch for him.  I did and he went his way.  There were other people there.  There was a guy with a real book and if I'm not mistaken a Bill Nye the Science Guy bookmark.  He also was wearing a boot on his ankle so I had instant sympathy since I've recently gotten out of one.

There were a couple of girls with a dog named Sadie that ran all over the place and was really not a menace. There were folks with itty bitty dogs. There were a group of ladies standing in the shade behind the bench where I was and random folks would come by and try to engage their dog with the newfangled water fountain but not many of the canines were buying that noisy contraption.

My attention was then drawn by a histrionic queen just going off on the group of ladies behind me.  "Don't you touch my dog (the same fox terrier I had obligingly scratched) and they said they'd leave his dog alone.  He started disparaging them about his supposition of their lack of education (I believe he said sixth grade).  One of the ladies said "God Bless you, sir." and he was walking off and turned around said "NO, God Bless  YOU, have you got your food-stamps yet this month?"

I'm thinking in my own head that I could sure use that BFA in metalsmithing to demonstrate what an education with hammers can do for an individual, but the guy and his fancy dog were leaving the small dog area.  The guy with a book says, "What an asshole, this is a public park, people are going to touch your dog if the dog approaches them."  One of the ladies came to refill a water dish and I told her my favorite new quote about unpleasant people.  "You can't stick a flower in an asshole and call it a vase."  They laughed and one said "That man is strange."  I eavesdropped on them for a bit and I think one of them was a teacher and they were asking about another's daughter that had just graduated from college.

I was proud that these ladies just considered the source and went on.  I was horrified.

And then he came BACK.  He walked right up to these ladies and shot their picture and said "I hope you like Instagram." and then left again.   That left all of us there shaking our heads and thinking "Bless HIS heart."

Meanwhile,  Mark and Mike holler through the fence that they are going to the big dog park.  I'm settled back down and I'm reading again when the same jerk (I'm feeling sorry for the dog at this point) comes back in and sits about 20 feet from this group of ladies and stares at them.  I see Mark coming back so I get up to head out.

He can tell I'm rattled and I tell him the strange and surreal time we spent apart at the dog park.  I guess I can have adventures anywhere I go.

The Interview

We watched this silly movie today.  It really had me laughing almost all of the way through.  I could have skipped that part in the Korean Control Booth.

I think that this film is as much a statement of international diplomacy as Idiocracy taunts sociologists and anthropologists.

Observing Humanity

I hardly slept last  night... We are farming out a litter of kittens and were down to the last two.  We have restrained their access to the world at large and they cried a lot.  Momma cried because we separated her from her babies.  The babies cried because they missed Momma.

I am a hibernator.  I want to sleep as late as is humanly possible.  I was woken up probably a hundred times last night.  I was wide awake before ten am on this Sunday morning and so we kick-started a very busy day.

One of our favorite Sunday destinations is Circle Grill.  It's infamous. There are tables named for regulars.  We've been in the neighborhood for some years.  We went for our favorite breakfast meals. I get a #1 over medium with sausage patties and hashbrowns (need to  remember to order them crispy) and biscuits and gravy.  Mark gets the veggie platter.

Today we are seated in the back of the front room.  I look around to see if I see folks I know.  1/2 the time I do.  It's very busy and things are running slow.  We see two families with children in the corners.  

One family is ambiguous.  We watch carefully because we are nosy and observant.  We see a booth behind us with a boy and a girl in a princess costume and two daddys. There is a lot of coloring going on. There is a lot of manners training about napkins in the lap.  We can hear them talking to their children.

We see another family.  A young latino couple with a toddler.  The baby is allowed to peel all the lids off of the jelly and the creamer.  We see the child throw a creamer past his dad's head and it hits the wall.  We see the small child escape out of his booth and go about and harass other diners.  

Dad is about to pay and the toddler grabs a hundred dollar bill out of his hand and carries it to another diner.

I see the boy and girl being talked to and colored with and celebrated and we see this tiny boy being ignored and allowed to be a nuisance in a public restaurant.

Who would society support?  The two attentive daddies or the inattentive Latino mom and dad.

As a public school teacher, I want the kids that are being colored with and are being taught manners.  They have a much higher chance for success than the tiny Latino boy that was allowed to run rampant.

Why does our society support the machismo view in poverty?  That small Latino boy will be taught that his stuff doesn't stink and that his mother is less than.  He's going to be spoiled and uneducated.  The two daddys obviously support their children learning good manners and using their time being creative.   The Latino parents loosed their child on the restaurant because Dad thought it was cute for  him to be a menace. It was obvious that mom was not allowed to say boo to the boy.
 
Later in the day I was waiting in a parking lot for my hubby to pick me up after a pedicure appointment.  I saw a couple walk by.  They were holding hands.  The man was singing at the top of his lungs.   I could see the doobie tucked behind his ear.

He sure sounded happy.

What an odd day to see things!

Dude, It's Christmas

We had some errands to run today.  We had lunch with our local children and planned out our holiday activities.  It's a bit different this year as some of the family is unhappy with us.  We weren't invited to Mark's family celebration for the first time ever... I've been going since 1981.

I can live with that, in fact, I'm somewhat relieved. We didn't really want to spend time watching our step father/father in law act like a jackass.

The weird thing today is the guy I heard.  Sometimes, I hear people talking in my head.  Some folks are very loud broadcasters, especially if they are upset for any reason.  Mark ran in to a convenience store while I sat in the car.  I could hear him mulling it over in his head if I would be an easy mark.  I talked back in my head and said "Dude, it's Christmas, don't be hating."  I zoned out for a minute. I think I plead for kindness.

Mark came around the corner of the store and didn't look happy. He loaded up his purchases and said "did you see that guy?" I looked up and the guy was leaning against the side of the store smoking a cigarette.  I said that I didn't see him.  Mark was upset and said, "he was standing by our car right behind your door."  He moved over there when he saw me coming.

I looked at the guy.  He was still broadcasting very loud.  I looked him eye to eye and thought "Dude, it's Christmas, make the best of it."

Feeling unloved

I wish I lived near my family. I wish they liked me. I am not sure exactly why they don't like me. I do think that some of them do not like my husband.  I can't help that.  I've had several of them say things that made it apparent that they don't like him.

I cannot say or I will not say why they don't like him.  Some of the reasons are unkind, but some of them are well deserved.

I want to live near family and have a family experience. I want to have family to go to when I need to cry or laugh or share my experiences with.  I've felt so left out so much of my life. I've been the abandoned child that was unfortunate because my father (twas kind of mean and nasty) was unkind to my mother. I'm the child that reminds all the subsequent step families of the sad and unfortunate times that went before.

I didn't choose my parents. I certainly have love for them and their families. I wish I could be in the middle of all of the family to love me.  I'm sad that I was the child that was an uncomfortable reminder of sad days gone by. I'm sad that I was the child that was the sad reminder of a sad situation.

It doesn't mean that I don't want and need people to love me.

I do need people to love me. I just wish my own family had even a small grip about how I feel. I am assured by their actions that they do not understand and do not begin to care about me.

I don't merit worth. It's sad for me that so many people that I love are so willing to disregard me. It's so sad that no one really cares.

I love all of those people so much. I should, they are my family. I just feel jilted because I'm not important enough to care about.  I've been so separated from all of them for so long.  They don't really know me. I'm just sad because they don't care. I've been such an outsider looking in for so very long.

My parents are in Hawaii right now with my sister and my nephews. They have made that trip so many times that the nephews are very entitled to the trip.

I hope they have a great time.  My nephews cannot comprehend that I don't understand their trips to Hawaii. I've never been there.  Never had the chance to go.

I'm glad that my sister and her children have had the opportunity to go to Hawaii with my parents multiple times. I'm sure they have a lot of fun.  

I'm just sad that I've been left out of family stuff my whole life.

I'm grateful to all of you that have had the chance to be a part of a family all your life.  You should be really grateful, because it doesn't work that way for everyone.

Super Saturday

I really had fun today.  

We had an Open House for new art kids at our school today.  We had several that came up and looked around and asked questions. 

I talked to parents who were checking things out and wanted to find a friendly place for their quirky kids.  

I run a friendly establishment. 

I insist on polite behavior. 

I believe in being gracious and kind at all times. 

Art rooms have the very best toys. Seriously dude. 

Some of my best kids came up today.  We had fun.  One had a birthday and we celebrated him. Some of them got to work and use the resources and get community service hours. What a sweet deal?

Thank you all for sharing this day with me.  I will treasure it.  

Miz Em   

Keep Coming Back

Today was busy, kind of a blur.  I got some grading done and was looking forward to Art Club after school.  We had a pretty good turn out and there was some math tutoring going on and some ceramic slab construction, some drawing on the Wacom tablet and quite a few folks making flowers out of plastic water bottles.

One of my angels seemed to be hanging back.  I chatted with her and admired her scarf.  She's got the biggest smile.  I saw hesitation on her face--she's such a great kid--second in her class.  I've met with her to talk about things she needs to do to apply for architecture school.  She's so bright and so motivated that any school would be happy to have her.

I have been apprehensive for her because she doesn't have a drawing background and I know that a lot of kids that go into architecture have gained a lot of skills before they go.

So today she hangs back. I see the doubt.  I talk about my day teaching and she beams and says "I've been reconsidering studying architecture."  I tell her I know she's going to be successful no matter what she tries and she says "I think I'd love to teach.  I see you and how much you love it and I want to love something that I do that much."  I tell her that I came to teaching later but that I appreciated the chance to love what I do and love the kids.  She beams some more and says again that she thinks that she could love it a lot.  We talk about what she'd teach and she mentioned that she's taught Sunday school to 2nd graders for four years and that she loves the little one but that she REALLY loves Art History but she's not sure how she could deal with big kids.  I told her she'd be great at whatever she chose and that she should choose something she loves so that all her life she'll have a constant state of "WOW."

It was one of those days....

I Double Dog Dare You

Dear Legislator,

I understand you have HARD decisions to make.  I know you try SO hard to represent your constituency.  You get to VOTE about education in America.  Please tell me how much you understand the system?

OH, your sister-in-law told you that she had great insurance and she's a teacher.   She didn't mention that she was insured through her husband's medical.  SO, you make decisions for the health insurance of all of the public school teacher servants in the State of Texas based on that conversation at your niece's birthday party.  .   .   .   .

Aw, well, um, let me know how that works for the hundreds of thousands of "state" employees affected by that decision.  oh no, you don't know what that means but you don't really care because teachers are defective human beings because if they were REALLY smart they would do something that made money rather than teach.

Dear Legislator,

I double dog dare YOU and EVERY person in government to go in and TEACH a class for ONE WEEK. If you have not spent a week juggling strong personalities and mentally ill children then do not tell me about how to teach school.

I do very well thank you. I teach....(Drawing II, III, IV, AP Art History, AP 2D Design, AP Drawing, Ceramics, Art One, Art One Advanced) nine distinct course offerings and I'm accountable for lesson plans for ALL of them and I'm responsible presenting inspiring curriculum that should motivate all children to create excellence.  I'm cool with that.

I should not have to "step gently" around criminal, heinous, mentally ill, dangerously aggressive, will freak out and hurt people CRAZY, to teach NINE different things. Many teachers teach 2 things. A good number teach 3 things.  Dedicated teachers teach 4 things.  Between 4 and 9 is a no-man's land.  Even PE teachers don't go much past 4.

OH, you're going to tell ME about how to teach children.  You can tell me this because you know        What?  You have so much experience with inner city children who share 12 siblings with their father and 4 with their mother?  You can teach me What?

I Double Dog Dare you.

The Legend of the Warrior Amazon Lesbian Hamsters

Now, about the Warrior Amazon Lesbian Hamsters....

My daughter comes home from her first year of college at Reed College. She lived in Chittick, one of the "Cross Canyon" Dorms. They had a deck all along the backside of the dorm that looked out over Reed Lake.

Apparently at Reed, one can have a pet if it will fit in an aquarium.

So, one of her suite-mates B. brought two hamsters to school with her because she had a friend who could NOT take them with her.

They and their friends all loved the little hamsters

They were cute little burly girls and some said they were warriors, some specifically said Amazon and everyone agreed they were lesbians.

Well, my girl gets home one day and she looks in the aquarium and is alarmed and says "B, the hamsters are dead!!!" B looks and says "They're not, they were just fine...they hibernate you know. We don't want to bury them and have them wake up screaming three days later." My daughter buys into this fantasy.

Their friends become concerned as the hamsters certainly look dead and not wanting to have friends that keep dead rodents called for another friend who was pre-med. He comes over and picks them up. Thumps them gently. Listens with a stethoscope and says "Man, your hamsters are dead."

A great wail of anguish goes up and then someone gets the idea to have a Viking funeral for them down at Reed lake.

Some are dispatched to build a funeral barque. Some are dispatched for Schlitz, Some prepare the Viking ceremony, and some get BBQ lighter fluid.

They assemble down by the shore of Reed Lake and tenderly lay their precious charges on the hastily built vessel, douse it with lighter fluid set it at the shore, light the flame and push it off into the lake.

One of the hamsters immediately rolls off into the water.

The other retains its precarious perch and a nutria swims up and sniffs at it then swims away.

About that time one of the campus security guards shows up and wonders why they have set something aflame and afloat in a National Wildlife Preserve.

They explain very quickly about the Warrior Amazon Lesbian Hamsters and the Viking Funeral. The security guard's name was Svenson, so he took a Schlitz and toasted them on their way to Valhalla.

The end

What I saw Last Night

It's hard to recall too much. Dreams tend to soften around the edges the way a sandcastle does as the waves lap relentlessly and then finally wear it all away.  This one still has a bit of structure and I want to write it down while I can still see some of it in my mind's eye.

I'm driving to school, except I'm going the wrong way on I-30, I'm headed toward downtown rather than away.  I'm not clear where my school is but I head for the Woodall Rogers overpass and traffic slows down and then stops dead.  I can't have this as I have GOT to get to school. It's my job.  Fortunately, my car is small enough that once I step outside, I can pick it up with a bungee cord and carry it with me. I can move, but only at a walking pace.  

I head up toward the elevated loop and I start to notice patches of ice.  That's funny, I don't recall it being cold enough for there to be ice.  I keep walking and notice that there seems to be something wrong with the overpass, I can see that there is a patch missing and that there are bars exposed on one side of the deck.  

Then I see the children.  There are four children hanging from the bars that extend out over a gaping chasm.  They look frightened.  I am terrified of heights but the children are afraid.  I move forward and I see that many people are scurrying around trying to figure out what to do. I ask someone to go for help and someone says that help has been requested.  I look over the edge and can see a dark river swirling down below.  I'm so scared but I tell the children that help is coming--to just hang on.  

They are children though and children are not always cautious.  Two of them hold on tightly to the bars available to them--they are the closest to me.  One child is on the far side of the gap. She holds on tightly.  The child in the middle is a little black girl. She looks about seven or eight. She's wearing a brown popcorn knit sweater and brown leggings.  She doesn't look afraid. She looks bored.  She's not paying very good attention and rolls her eyes when I tell her to hold on.  

I hear over my shoulder that help is coming and I tell the children that it won't be long now--just hold on.  

The little girl in the middle looks restless and starts moving around as if she was on monkey bars.  I ask her to sit down and hold on just a few more minutes but she won't listen.  She swings around and tries to catch the bar with her knees but she misses and for just a moment is suspended in the air. I can see her face.  She doesn't seem afraid as she begins to plummet toward the river below. I can't watch because I know there is no way she can survive the fall.  One of the other girls watches and then begins to cry. 

I can still clearly picture the child. I can see that her hair was pulled back out of her face but was not neatly fixed in the back.  I can see the color of brown that she was wearing.  I can see an expression of placid unconcern in her eyes.  "Whatever."

I'm fuzzy after that, I don't really remember ever getting to school or even what happened other than I went over and over in my mind trying to find some route to school that didn't require an overpass. I've still not figured it out--I'm not sure it's possible.  

I've thought about this a lot today. I wonder if this is my subconscious chiming in on the state of education in the America lately.  I wonder why I saw the black child fall.  

Hallelujah LeahBob

I'm so excited!!! My granddaughter is coming to visit.  I cannot wait to see Miss Leah Elizabeth Ayers.  LeahBob for short.

Virginia and Neil and Leah are coming here from England.  They are coming in time for the State Fair of Texas.  I've never been so much excited about going to the fair.  My folks were not the kind of folks that took children to the fair, so I cannot really recall going to the State Fair with my parents.  I do recall taking my personal children to the Fair, but not so many times, because it is so expensive and we were generally very poor.  I do know that we took our children to the fair when they were coming up.  Last year we went with James and Becca and it was so much fun.

I can't wait to go with Leah.  She will not understand but we will try and take her to the bird show and to the dog races and to the petting zoo.  I want to show my granddaughter the piece of jewelry I made that will be on display at the State Fair.  I want her to see Dallas.  I want to take her to Trammel Crow's Ranch and get a photo of her on the back of a bronze longhorn.  She may not know it but she is half a Texan.

The Holy Family

May I paraphrase?  Once upon a time there was this

dude. . .  .

A Duke offered a famous artist a fee for a painting.  It was a reasonable fee.  It was probably an impressive fee. It was 200 figs.  The painter had an idea. He did something strange and wonderful on several levels.

The canvas was round. They call that a "tondo."

There, there in the pyramidal structure was a holy baby, an aged pater familias and maternal unit guilty of heavy and foreshortened limb.

The Duke noticed that there were young nude men frolicking in the background.  He's thinking that he might not be getting good value for his "florin."   He says...."I'll give him 100 figs."

The clerk went back to Michelangelo and says that the Duke is asking for a discount.  Michelangelo says "tell him I want  300. "  The clerk returns and says "my master wants 300.  The Duke offers 200 that was first agreed upon.  The clerk returns and says "my master wants 400."

Today, I looked at The Holy Family with new eyes.

We talked about color.  We talked about iconography.  We talked about burly women.

We talked about shape and color and understanding.

I love art.

Earth without Art is "Eh"

Mr. Micciche,

I am one of your constituents and someone who voted for you, and a former art teacher in DISD. I have helped in the past to write secondary art curriculum standards in DISD for Art II, III, IV Jewelry, Ceramics, Printmaking, Photography and AP Art History. I am not a stranger to art standards.

I am concerned that the secondary art specialist Laura Sohm spent ten thousand dollars this summer for curriculum planning and as she is a cut and paste artiste I am concerned about how those funds were used. In the past she has used material from Art 21 (PBS) without proper attribution. She has cut and pasted directly from their website into the curriculum planning guides for the secondary art teachers in DISD.

New secondary art teachers in the district are being told to violate copyright laws by Ms. Sohm. The specific copyright belongs to the Disney corporation. Disney has very concrete use regulations. 

Part of the lesson plan states "To do this project, you will need to collect line images of many Disney characters. We recommend gathering these from the internet (or scanning coloring book pages) and creating digital files images sized to print out on 8" by 101/2" paper. These images can be printed out and then xeroxed for multiples as preparation for the project."

My particular issue with this lesson https://naea.digication.com/Spiral/Bureau_of_Misdirection--WORKING is the portion that states "A word of advice or warning: Do NOT make students draw these characters freehand. This a project about the appropriation of the images we encounter into our imaginations and identities, thus it makes sense that the project should be created artistically by using postmodern principles such as appropriation and layering. Instructing students to draw the characters freehand is bad art education because it wastes time and MISTEACHES the way in which such cartoons are actually drawn by professional cartoonists. "

I have 90 hours in art. We are supposed to teach the kids to draw, not to steal images from coloring books.

Ms. Sohm handed out materials this week that included http://www.coloring-pages-kids.com/coloring-pages/disney-coloring-pages/various-disney-coloring-pages/various-disney-coloring-pages-gallery.php coloring book pages to use as a resource for high school art students.

She has some kind of irrational reasoning that this is "postmodern" art instruction. She spouts nonsense that sounds pretty but has no substance. Sadly, there are people at the top who are unwilling to admit that they have no clue what she is saying. The Emperor has NO Clothes. This woman is a fool and she is cheating our students. Our students need art supplies. They should not be asked to make art from trash. I'm sorry, it is a sad excuse for art instruction to print out Disney coloring book pages to create a project for high school art in Dallas ISD.

The new teachers asked about art supplies and were told to go to grocery stores and ask for boxes that were being discarded. Some of the teachers were told they'd get cameras instead of art supplies. 

The kids need pencils and paper and brushes and paint. They could use a lot more, but they shouldn't have to dumpster dive for art class. 

What do you think?

An Issue of Forgiveness

I had to ask myself some questions today. Dena Schlosser killed her baby girl 8 years ago. She cut the baby's arms off to free her from some demon (or something like that). There was not a huge amount of discussion about whether or not the woman was insane. She was found not guilty for reason of insanity.  I learned today that she had been released from the state mental hospital in Terrell recently and was spotted working at WalMart.   I remember being so horrified when I heard about the crime, but today I felt so sorry for the woman.  WalMart fired her after Channel 8 made a big deal about it.  I wondered how anyone could even begin to put a life back together after something so heinous and I've got to believe that the hospital wouldn't let her out if they thought she was a danger to anyone.   

Some folks have posted some really vicious statements and I have found myself feeling a big dose of compassion.  I cannot begin to think that I could recover from something like that. I would have checked out long since. 

I'm going to have to think about this some more.