Whale Watching

This afternoon, walking on the beach turned out to be quite unique.

Sure, you assume there are whales out there in the big, big sea. You assume that, now and again, they visit the Monterey Bay. Maybe a big blue wants to sniff the cotton candy smell from the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk. Maybe a giant grey is curious about the Cold Water Classis surf competition at Steamer Lane. But you don't SEE them. You don't normally watch flippers and tails and big blow-hole spouts OVER AND OVER from the vantage point of the beach.

I decided to walk a long, long way this afternoon. Suzzie the dog seemed ammenable. Walking on down to Hidden Beach I was delighted to see from the bluff a super low tide, glassy, smooth water, and clear blue skies. We went about four times farther than usual. On the way back, I noticed a few of my fellow walkers had stopped and were staring out to sea. That's when I saw what they saw. Giant blow hole spout. Then a flipper. Then the tail. I glued my eyes to the area and was not disappointed. For the next 20 minutes she showed off again and again as she moseied on down, parallel to shore. Remarkable! The flippers, by the way are LONG and the curve so sleek and gentle. Then SMASH onto the surface of the water, producing a big showy splash.

Not bad for "just another day in the neighborhood."

Thrashed

Kitchen mishap! Daiquiri maker, Mr. Ed, claims this "just happened" to the blender during creation of a lime and banana beverage. Zap! Pow! Sudden implosion. Luckily the concoction was 99% complete when the thrashing occurred.

Outsiders Insider

I am starting out the year by dazzling my 14-year old students with the wonders of small town gang warfare. Specifically, warfare of the male, teenage variety. In this mileu, bravery is being on the large side of a four-against-one confrontation. Hey, it is easy to be brave when the victim of your agression is smaller and younger. I am describing the action in chapter 1 of The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton.

The question I ask myself is this: Why doesn't anyone in class ever point this out? Possible answer: middle school students prefer the titilation bullying produces. Laughs. Wiggle-in-your-seat excitement.

If this violence stuff, the bullying, bothers me, why do I teach this novel? I teach it because the victim of early bullying grows, learns, becomes empathetic, and eventually overcomes the petty forces of cowardace. Hip hip hooray!

Besides, the novel if full of beautiful language, imagery, and goofy 1960's slang. Gotta love that.

Am I Obsolete? Am I a Failure?

Man, oh man. I am feeling the pressure of being a public school teacher.

My students walk in the door, and I must accept them as they are. Happy and smart, or not happy and not too smart. Motivated and supported by family, or not motivated and not supported by family.

The California testing data from my last year students is in and available for all to see on the internet. What a shock to see that many of their scores actually went down from the year before. Bunches of "my" kids slipped, for example, from BASIC to BELOW BASIC. Or from PROFICIENT to BASIC. My reaction?

CRAP!

If I were working at another sort of job and "my numbers" declined, I would be FIRED!

This worries me. Truly.

Ms. Baumann is back in P2-1

Summer is over. I'm back in the classroom, directing traffic. "Focus, please," is my primary utterance. My students seem very happy for some strange reason. Perhaps they are simply excited to be in such close proximity to each other. It is pretty stimulating, I must say. We are reading The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton. The protagonist gets beat up in the very first chapter. It's a hit.

Tahiti Tiki

It is truly a vacation when you just unpack ONE TIME and head straight for the pool. Ed and I spent eight heavenly days on Moorea at the Pearl Resort and Spa. Funny, but everything, and I mean everything, looks just like the tourist brochures. Love that, actually.

Our activities:

--bicycle ride around the entire island

--scuba (again and again)

--watching a humpback whale lounge around the turquoise sea

--hiking to a lookout point from which you can see two peaks and two pristine bays

--lots of nothin'

Loved every minute.

Still, I'm Happy to be Home

School teachers like me must take advantage of being "off" in the summer. I went off to the Big Apple, followed by the Big Green (Park City, Utah).

Lucky me. Sacha was house-sitting the Chelsea loft and invited me to join her. A new addition to the excellent accommodations is a nice red bicycle. Peddling is, by far, the best way to experience the city.

Flying from JFK to SLC, I met up with Mr. Ed. My love affair with Utah started as a child and has held steady ever since. This summer the mountains and meadows are greener than green, thanks to the rain that I missed while hanging out on the East Coast.

Janet is THE organizer and social secretary. Thanks to her, I scored an invitation to Dolly's birthday lunch. I knew that I still belonged in the family when Shirley snagged a French fry off my plate. Thank you, dear friends, for being dear friends.

Road Trip

Ed and I headed south at the late afternoon hour of four. The car has two mountain bikes strapped to the back. There are bags of clothes and stuff inside. The idea is to spend Spring Break pleasantly outdoors in the California sunsine.
We got to our first stop, Pismo Beach, just in time for a sunset coctail. But when we emerged from the car - SHOCK! It is freezing cold and the wind is blowing like crazy. Nevertheless, we toasted our good fortune and watched another day sink into the sea.

belly up to the bar

Professional, if you work in a cubicle, infers a nice computer, year-end bonuses, and the occasional business trip. Professional, if you're a public school teacher, is the word you try to remind yourself you ARE. That's right, I'm a professional.
I don't sit in a cubicle all day. I don't get a well-deserved year-end bonus. I do, however, occasionally travel on business. Here is how it works. First, join a "professional" organization (example: California Educational Theatre Association). Next, raise your hand when someone says, "who will be the chair of the XX committee?" Finally, fly away to the next out of town meeting. Whoopee! Business travel! That's professional, dude.
Here in San Jose, nucleus of Silicon Valley, you belly up to the bar while you wait for a flight. No alcohol. Instead get powered up with electricity. There are bar stools and plugs for your laptop computer along the bartops. Cool.

The photo, by the way, shows three professional women of a bygone year (maybe 1948). Check out my mom on the left. Undoubtedly they are on a was a business trip to Pine Valley, Utah, their spiritual home.

Well Lit Keys

A little blurry, but you get the picture.

Inspiration, imagination, possibilities. Like a blank piece of paper before a poet, the typewritter symbolizes a conduit to the future.

Moving forward, I see work, play, and a readjustment of priorities. There has been a shift in how I focus on my little life.

Be Here Now. That's the ticket.

I Miss My Sister Every Day

Linda Marie Baumann

November 28, 1951 - February 1, 2009

Faces from left to right: Sacha, Jana, Annalise, and Linda Marie Baumann

She was my one and only

My confident confidant

Soul sister

Laugh partner

Serious listener and lighthearted talker

Linda Marie Baumann died suddenly on February 1, 2009. Just 57 years old. I am only one of many who will miss her.

We Silly Women and Our Vanities

I did a bit of artsie mingling this afternoon with my artist friend. We joined the throngs at the artists' reception. The gallery is in a small, victorian house in Watsonville, California. This House We Call a Home is all installations. Every inch of the house (hallways, bathrooms, closets) is the setting for an artist's vision. The shoes are called Fatal Attraction. They sent shivers down my spine.

Proud to be an American

I stand proud and tall today, along with people all over the globe. Sounds so grand, and indeed it is. Welcome, Mr. President, into my heart and into our world.

Glad to Have a Job

It is time to go back to work. Back to school. Back to being a teacher. Three weeks flew by. Parties. Lunches. Dinners. Beach walks. Playing house. Reading. Sleeping.

Holiday highlights:
--Hosting Christmas dinner for the Johnstons, some of our oldest and dearest friends

--Hosting New Year's Eve party for the Golden Girls

--Walking along the beach with Suzzie the dog on cool, crisp, sunny afternoons

--New carpet and new paint in the office

--Visiting the San Jose Tech Museum with Tina

--Shopping

An extra note about shopping. Can you believe the super low prices on clothes and stuff at regular old department stores? I paid $9.99 for a dress originally marked $98.00. I left the store feeling positively euphoric. Cheap thrills.

Theatre Teachers Have More Fun

Self portrait, shadow in the sand. The briny Pacific lies beyond the white sands and piny forests of Asilomar in Pacific Grove on the Monterey Peninsula.

The California Educational Theatre Association (CETA) is my favorite "do gooder" organization. At the 2009 CETA Board retreat at Asilomar an observer might have guessed that we 20 grownups and assorted kids were a family reunion group yukking it up. In the evenings, after the meetings, we assembled before a roaring fire in lodge designed in the 1930s by Julia Morgan. Nice wines and music completed the ambiance. We played board games, card games, and dicey games. Send me to a meeting like this ANY TIME!

Happy New Year 2009

Tradition! Sing it, like in the musical Fiddler on the Roof. Tradition!

Walking across the Golden Gate Bridge is a New Year's Day tradition for Elene. Beginning in 2009 I am now privileged to be among those with whom she performs this ritual. Ditto for Mary Jo. We sing! We soar! It was a glorious day. But very cold.