j/k

I was just kidding.

I can't go right now.

You can blame Kirk for the change of heart.

It's Official...

I've decided to apply to graduate school for Fall '10. *sigh*

blah

Sometimes, I think I must be a terrible teacher. Like right now; I just finished grading a quiz that one of my classes took yesterday and the results weren't so great. I know I can be a better teacher, explain concepts better, etc, and I do try and improve or adapt my techniques every day, but on days like today, when it seems like no one in my class is doing well, it's just hard to believe that I'm doing something right. I know I'm doing all I can, but is it really enough? And I know I shouldn't get too emotionally invested in the kids' success or failure because, let's be honest, at some point it's no longer my fault, but I can't help but be sad when any of my kids don't do well. I want them to succeed so badly, but I guess I'm having trouble differentiating between things I can do for them and things they should do for themselves. It's definitely a difficult line to discern...

Hmmm...

Today I:

1. helped plan the spring break to Italy, which I am now 100% going on
2. had a meltdown about graduate school and re-taking the GRE
3. went running for the first time in months
4. overheard, while running, a guy say, "Well I didn't knock her up!"
5. was told that I might be re-hired for the next school year, which would make re-taking the GRE and thinking about graduate school less immediately necessary.
   

All in all, I guess it wasn't a bad day.

Parents Weekend

So. I have endured my first Parents Weekend. It was actually rather exciting, hectic, and exhausting all at once. The morning of Friday was devoted to classes- all the classes met; the regular Friday class met for 35 minutes each and the others met for 15. They were mainly to show the parents teaching methods and to give them a quick description of what the year would bring. Both of my classes usually meet on Fridays, so I had two 35 minute-periods in which I sang and danced for the parents. I went over the basic goals of the class and then taught a few points of grammar. Fairly basic, and successful enough that no parent asked a question I couldn't answer; in fact, hardly any parents asked any questions at all. I did have on dad ask me about the subtleties of Latin translation, which was exciting since it meant that he was paying attention and that I got to gush about Virgil for a bit. But that was the highlight of the teaching portion of the day.

The afternoon was devoted to parent-teacher conferences, in which I sat down one-on-one with each set of parents of each of my kids and went over how that kid was doing. They were only ten minute meetings, but from 1:00-3:30, all I did was talk to parents. This was the exhausting part of the day. For the most part, however, the parents were gracious, enthusiastic, and eager to assist me in any way they could. "What can we do at home? Is there anything specific we should be looking for? S/He really tends to do this thing; what can we do to help he/him focus more?" These were the types of questions I got, questions that I was more than happy to answer. I want all my students to be successful, and it is especially helpful if I know the parents are backing me up too.

There was one parent, however, who was determined to see me fail. One parent who sat across from me, never smiling, telling me that it was due to the "teaching methods" that his/her child was not doing well in my class. One parent who, when asked what his/her child's learning method was, said, "Well, we've just never had this problem before." S/he refused to help me, refused to give me any suggestions that might help the child improve. Just the constant, subtle accusation that I was at fault for this particular child's failure. I thought the ten minutes would never end, and when they finally did, I had to fight back tears as I sat, bewildered, waiting for the next meeting. Jamie, my mentor, came in, since it turned out to be a short break, and asked how things were going, at which I promptly burst into tears. Luckily, Jamie is amazing and told me what questions to ask and what to say in that situation, and totally had my back, supporting me and reassuring me. I went into my next meeting hoping it would be another Parent from Hell, but comforted by the fact that I knew how to handle it.

It's amazing how some parents are so eager to place the blame anywhere other than where it really belongs.

After this particular meeting, the rest of my conferences were wonderful, with parents characteristic of those described above. I left that evening feeling more confident in what I do. The next day, at brunch, a few other co-workers came up to me, saying they had heard about what had happened, and expressed sympathy and shared similar horror stories. It made me love CA more, knowing that my co-workers cared enough about me to seek me out to give me council and comfort when they knew I had had a rough time.

So, that was my first Parents Weekend. I hope it is the first of many, and that I get a few more Parents from Hell so I can put them in their place. ;-)

This is where I live now...

Here are a few snapshots from my new home, Concord, MA. Enjoy!



Walden Pond:

Phelps House, in whose basement my apartment is located:
The main sign for CA:
A wonderful view of Boston from the top of a Revolutionary War fort:

It Feels Like Home To Me

The water in Concord tastes funny. Not all the water, just the water in the pool at the Beede Center, Concord's new fitness center. It's a bit too salty, like the ocean, which makes me feel like the water should be warmer. It isn't though; the temperature is fine. It's the taste that bothers me, though that was my only complaint today.

I had been told during my interview that "the public high school just built a new pool that is open to the community, so if you come here, you can keep swimming there." When I moved here, I resolved to do just that. I checked out the Beede Center (which is a gorgeous facility) a few weeks ago and saw that though they didn't have a Masters team, they did offer coached workouts twice a week. Since I had already decided, after listening to my friend Scott talk about how he swam 6,000 yards at his Masters practice, that I very much did not want to join a Masters team, I thought that coached workouts might be the appropriate way to go. Why not just join the Center and swim on my own? you might ask. Well, I tried that this past summer, and frankly, swimming alone sucks. I really hate it, and part of the reason I loved swimming so much, especially at Oberlin, was the sense of community that as formed on a team. It's difficult not to become super close when you're all hurting in every inch of your body. I wanted that feeling of together-ness, but without too much hurting. Thus, the twice a week coached workouts.

Today was the first day, and the first day I have seriously swam since February. Since my last competitive season. Since college. Since my shoulder decided that it didn't care it was my last competitive season. Needless to say, I was a bit nervous, especially since most of the other people in the group were middle to old aged and seemed like the had never swam a yard in their life. Don't get me wrong, I love the fact that these people are getting out to swim. I just didn't want to be that girl, the ex-college swimmer that every body hates because she's faster than me and why does she have to be here, in this group, anyway? But I think my fears were in vain, because every one seemed very friendly and welcoming. Even though I hadn't swam very seriously at all since that last Conference meet, I still knew what I was doing, still could breathe every three, still had (basically) the feel for the water. And it felt wonderful. It was like coming home. I know that sounds super cheesy, but it's true. Swimming has always, always been a refuge for me, and, once again, I felt like I was back where I belonged, back where I didn't have to worry about anything except stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe, stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe. It was such a relief to be doing something I really knew how to do, rather than felt like I was just faking, like I do sometimes with teaching. It made me think about all the coaches I've ever had, all three of them, in those 11 years of hard, competitive swimming. How they must have started out just faking coaching too, just like I fake teaching sometimes*. How they must have finally gotten the hang of it, like I am, and will. How they became great at it, and how they inspired us to work harder, go faster, dream bigger. That's how I want to be, in teaching, and hopefully in coaching, if I ever get the chance. I want to make kids feel like I felt today, swimming for the first time in months. That the pool is where they belong.

I have a new coach now. His name is Mike. Funny how I keep getting coaches with one syllable names- Wolf (ok, that's just his nickname, but that's who he'll always be to me), Dan, Mark, and now Mike. He seems nice, and I'm interested to see how he'll deal with me alongside everyone else. We talked briefly about a possible coaching position for me at the club team there. It sounds so perfect I don't even want to consider it too much, lest it disappear as one of those things that was "too good to be true." I do have to put CA first, in any case, so we'll see what happens.

So, I'm back in the water now, back where I belong, at least twice a week. Things are really starting to settle down here and I realized today how much I really do love being here. I know it's only been a month, but everything has been so great so far, and even the stuff that hasn't been so great has been bearable, since I feel like I'm enough a part of the community now that I can have a hand in trying to make it better. And that's what I really love: community.

Wow, this post was so cheesy it's a bit sad. But it's the truth; what more can I say?




*Obviously I'm not actually faking, since I am teaching these kids every day. I guess it just feels like I'm faking since I had absolutely no experience 6 weeks ago on my first day.

Another First -or- My Initiation into the Red Sox Cult -or- How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Sox

Yet another First. This past Tuesday, my co-worker and (I hope!) friend Ben happened to have an extra ticket to the Sox game that night and graciously invited me along. Since I had yet to experience this Boston phenomenon, I eagerly agreed, and around 5:30pm we started the long, arduous trek from Concord to Fenway (drive from Concord to Alewife, park at Alewife then take the red line to Park, transfer to the green line and ride all the way to Fenway. phew!). Our seats were fairly good, by my standards, thanks to the Alumni foundation at CA; it seemed that we were crashing an alumni event, though not really, since Ben is, in fact, an alum. Anyway, we were sitting on the lower level, a bit far back, but still the closest I had ever been to the field. Unfortunately, we were right behind a supporting column. Oh well, can't win 'em all.

Now, I have been to baseball games. I wouldn't call myself an enormous fan of the Reds, but over the summers growing up I would certainly attend a game or two, or watch them play on tv with my dad. And Cincinnatians are big baseball fans. Big sports fans in general (I mean, come on, why does everyone still root for the Bengals?!), but it was nothing, nothing, compared to the way Bostonians poured into Fenway, the way they all cheered for every aspect of the game, the way everyone rose to their feet in unison during a critical moment of play. I was awed, and slightly overwhelmed. I couldn't believe how many people were there, on a Tuesday night! This wasn't even a weekend game! And the way everyone sang "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" or "Sweet Caroline" - it was astonishing. There was such a sense of unity and community there; everyone was there to root their team to victory, to support them during every moment of the game, to make sure they won. It was as if every single fan knew he had a crucial role to play, that without the fans, the Sox couldn't make it. And I have to believe it.

After the game, which we (since I'm a Sox fan now) won, we went to Boston Beer Works to "wait for the T to settle," and Ben told me about the mania that had ensued when the Sox beat the Yankees during the World Series, before they had won the whole thing. He had just been threatened, then pulled down off a banister. As the two stood in the street observing the chaos around them, Ben queried, "Wouldn't it be great if they won it?" and the cop, who, moments before had been threatening violence, said, "Yeah, yeah it would."

Thus was my entrance into the world of Boston baseball. I can only hope that I become such a dedicated fan.

The First Week

I guess my life is full of firsts now. First apartment, first job, first day, first time really living out of Ohio...

So last week was my first week, though this is really my first full week, since we didn't start classes till last Tuesday. If I had to sum it up in one word it would be: exhausting. I am still extremely tired, though I didn't get as much sleep as I was hoping this weekend. More on that later. But yeah, things went well, considering it was the first week and everyone was still settling in. Both of my classes (Latin I and II) are pretty good, though Latin II is a bit rowdy and might cause some problems in the future. I'll just have to bring down the iron fist. Cuz I'm so mean. I did have a few moments (ok, more than a few) where I stopped talking and faced a classroom full of blank faces staring at me like I was a three-headed alien. During such moments, I would pause and ask, "Did you all get that?" and they all slowly nod, like their in a trance or something. I try pretty hard to get a response out of them, but some days it just ain't happening. Hopefully as they become more familiar with Latin, they'll loosen up a bit and be more responsive.

As far as other aspects of CA life go, I have a hard time finding something to complain about. Everyone is very friendly still, always asking me how things are going. Even the students are friendly, and the student heads of the house I have duty in are positively divine. I really love the close student-teacher relationships that form here-everyone is a mentor, every teacher takes a real, personal interest in the education and general well-being of their students. It's great. I just hope that someday I can be that meaningful to someone. Ok, that was really cheesy.

Anyway, this past weekend I went into Boston to see Bryne, Scott and Chris, who just moved up last Thursday. We went out Friday night and had a wonderful time dancing at a club that was surprisingly on the upper floor of a Chinese restaurant. It was weird, but fun. On our way back to their apartment, Chris thought a skunk was a kitten and almost tried to pet it before he realized his mistake. It was one of the more hilarious moments I've ever had. Saturday was spent shopping and wandering around before coming home and "helping" Bryne cook a spectacular dinner. During the cooking and eating of this delightful meal, the four of us consumed about three bottles of wine. It was fantastic. Sunday I woke up earlier than I would have liked, which didn't help, since I was so exhausted from the past week. Oh well. We discovered that the MFA was free that day, so Scott Chris and I hurried over and spent a long time drooling over the ancient art collection. hehe.

I'm really glad that things are setting down so nicely. I am often struck by how incredibly lucky I am, to have landed a job that I really like (so far) in a town I really like, with people whom I really like. I mean, how did I get this lucky?!?! I just hope that I continue to love it here, and continue to love teaching. Thus the second week commences...

The First Day

I guess I should write about my first day of teaching, but really, I don't think there was anything super significant to report, other than it was my first official day in my first official job. Things went smoothly, I introduced myself, had everyone in the class do the same and tell me why they decided to take Latin. Then we went over class procedures and then onto pronunciation. They were shy, reticent at first, though I tried my best to get them talking, asking questions. I daresay my enthusiasm did nothing but freak them out (thought bubble: "Holy SHIT, this woman is CRAZY!"), but by the end of class a few braver boys were speaking up. I was extremely nervous (I kept my notes on the desk instead of holding them, so they couldn't see how badly my hands were shaking), but got more confident and comfortable as the class went on. I guess I switched my energy input from being nervous to trying to get the kids to talk. I know they were all just as nervous as I was, probably more so, being only 14 and 15, so I'm hopefully about our next class meeting on Thursday. So, all in all, a successful day. Let's just hope Latin II goes just as well tomorrow.

How a Mid-Western Girl Became an East-Coaster

Well, here we are. I've been in Concord for a week and a day, and man, was that an overwhelming week! Two Friday's ago my parents and I drove down the impressively charming Main Street of Concord, MA. I successfully got the key to my apartment and just like that, we were moving my stuff in. It was dank and dark at first, but once there was a steady flow of air from the continuous opening of the door, the stuffy feeling soon cleared. The reason for the dank came from my apartment's location: it is in the basement of one of the boy's dorms (called "houses" at CA, so that is what I will now refer to them as), and called the "garden apartment," since that's more palatable than "basement apartment." It's quite nice, actually; just two rooms, a bedroom and kitchen/living room sorta divided by a bar-type thing. It used to be the school bookstore, so shelves line almost all the walls. It's nice for displaying pictures and small decorative items, but when it comes to storing clothes and the like, it's a bit irritating. I've gotten used to it by now, though. The place has truly become my own, though at this point I still lack a comfy chair or couch. I'm working on it.

Other than making my apartment livable, I attended several meetings, all of which lasted from 9am to 5pm. The first was the new faculty orientation meeting; I was surprised to see that there were three other young ladies joining the crew this year as well, in addition to a new head of school. We spent the day trying to process several tidal waves of information, ranging from emergency procedures to campus diversity. I staggered to my apartment for dinner, struggling to comprehend everything that had been thrown at me that day while attempting to prepare for the next day's all-day meeting. Suffice to say, the next three days were fairly overwhelming; full faculty meetings, house faculty meetings, one-on-one meetings with the deans...all in addition to dealing with the fact that I was now far from home and all things familiar, the fact that I now had to deal with just about everything on my own, that when anyone said, "The adults deal with this.." that meant me, too. I'm not too ashamed to admit I spent a fair amount of time trying not to cry, especially since I had no internet and no cell reception in my apartment and thus felt truly and completely isolated from everything I knew.

Things have settled down a bit now; new boarding students arrived on Friday while I went into Boston to visit Bryne and Scott at their lovely apartment in Somerville. Classes start on Tuesday and I am both excited and terrified. I am teaching two classes, Latin I and Latin II, one section of each. I have one class on Mondays through Thursdays, and two on Fridays. Not much, but enough for someone with no experience whatsoever. In addition to that, I have house faculty duties, which means that on Thursdays, I am responsible for the boarders who live in Hobson House. It should be interesting, since it's basically a parenting job, and that's something I have no experience with either. hmmm...

I'm looking forward to the coming days very much and will definitely be giving a detailed report of how much first few days go, so stayed tuned!

Quick Update

I know I'm loooong overdue for a post here, but I am completely swamped by meetings that require all of my brain power. Who knew that becoming a real adult required this much work?!?! Oh wait...

I will, however, provide a brief summary of my trip to Singapore. The only thing of note we did was go to the Botanical Gardens, which were, I will admit, quite beautiful. I really enjoyed the piece of rain forest that is preserved there; it was amazing to walk through this bit of jungle and see these ENORMOUS trees. Stunning.

Other than that, Singapore was quite boring. We flew back to Bangkok for roughly a day, then flew home. The highlight of my trip home was the 4 year old who say next to me on the flight from Tokyo to Atlanta. She was incredibly talkative, something not terribly desirable on a 12 hour flight, but she was too adorable for me to get overly upset. It was her cuteness (and, I suppose, her age) that saved her when she asked me if I believed in the True God.

Needless to say (??), I told her I did, and let her tell me all about Noah's Ark and Jonah and the whale.

I promise that I will find some time this weekend to write a quick post about my move to Concord and all the exciting meetings I've been to over the past few days. Students start coming on Friday and classes start on Tuesday! eek!

First Impressions

I have to say, the first thing I thought when I stepped off the plane in Singapore was, "My GOD, this place is clean." Which was a very accurate first impression. As we whizzed down the highway towards the University guest house (but definitely not over the speed limit), I felt my amazement grow as I saw well manicured medians full of flowers and beautiful, clean streets and sidewalks. It could not be more different than the grimy, dirty, polluted, Bangkok. My dad remarked, "It feels like we're in Southern California." And it does; I do not even feel like I am in Asia anymore. Except for all the, well, Asians.

A Culinary Cabaret*

I am in Thailand, at the beach in Hua Hin, which is on the western side of the Gulf of Thailand. It’s quite gorgeous here, with beautiful beaches and shady palm trees. The highlight of my time in Hua Hin has not been, however, my time spent on the beach, but my time spent at restaurants. In fact, most of my time in Thailand in general revolves around eating. My mother makes plans to meet a friend for lunch, and since traffic is so bad in Bangkok, we leave two hours before she arranged to meet her. Once we’re all met up, we eat a spectacular lunch, and, since we don’t have time to go home before our dinner appointment, we shop around until its time for yet another meal. Even our time in Hua Hin, which is purely our own (no lunches or dinners with friends), has been based around food. What should we do for lunch? Where shall we go for dinner? Do you want to go get mangoes and sticky rice?

I don’t mind making food the focal point of our trip. Thailand is, after all, known for its exquisite cuisine, and it would be a shame to let a little thing like my caloric intake get in the way of eating as much of my favorite foods as possible. And at Hua Hin, all my favorite things seem to be right here, in one town. Well, all my favorite sea food, at least. I adamantly refuse to eat sea food in the United States. Call me a food snob, but what little sea food I have eaten Stateside never, ever, compares to what is available in Thailand. One might say, “Well, you are from Ohio,” but I have sampled lobster, crab, etc, in states that are not completely landlocked. And my verdict remains the same: Thailand has the best sea food. Period.

Last night, we went to a small restaurant right on the pier, with seating out over the water. As it got dark, we could see the green lights of the squid boats as well as the highly lit naval destroyers that guard the King’s summer palace (he happens to be there right now, which explains the presence of the destroyers). Our order closely resembled what we’d been eating every night: spicy steamed squid, deep fried fish (no breading though, which makes it a million times better than fried fish in the States), mussels, and 2 kilos of crab. I’m fairly certain all this came right out of the ocean we were sitting on, and it all tasted great. Our waiter even made fun of us for ordering so much crab, but we ate all of it and wiped that smile off his face.

I comfort myself with the fact that sea food doesn’t have that many calories, and if this isn’t true, please don’t tell me. Besides, I’m only in Hua Hin, only in Thailand, once a year, so I might as well indulge.

* I should confess that the title for this post came from the song “Be Our Guest,” from Beauty and the Beast. I’d hate to take credit for creativity that I do not in fact possess.

The Voyage of Self-Discovery, Part II

Tuesday afternoon found me in St. Paul, at Louise’s apartment, with nothing to do. The reason for this was not that there was nothing to do, but simply that Louise was at work, and I did not have the energy to go exploring on my own. My time in St. Paul was fun, though it was a shame that Louise had to work as much as she did. I wanted to spend more time with her, but since she is moving to France in the fall to teach English, she needs all the money she can get. I would not force her to ask for time off because of me. In any case, I had a good time. We went to Books and Bars, which is a fantastic idea of a book club combined with alcohol; what could be better?! They read a book each month then meet at a bar to discuss it. It was really fun even though I hadn’t read the book. After that was the mid night show of Harry Potter 6, which I, surprisingly, enjoyed immensely (my opinions on the Harry Potter movies could take up an entire new blog); I especially love seeing all the high schoolers get all dressed up, though it makes me feel really old. Louise showed me Macalester and we got sandwiches to eat by the river. We walked around the Minneapolis Institute of Art and saw the big cherry spoon at the sculpture garden. It was great to hang out with her, since, like Katie, I had rarely seen her since Christmas break. But on Friday, after dinner, I headed out to Mounds View for the final part of my road trip.

The event was fantastic, and if I can manage to go again next year, I will. It was definitely smaller than I was expecting, but I think that made it better, since the teachers were a bit more forced to focus on you. I was incredibly nervous; this was my very first swing event where I didn’t know anyone. In the past, any event I had gone to was also attended by at least two or three other Obies, but here, it was only me. I shouldn’t have worried though, since everyone there was incredibly nice and welcoming. At least two people came up to me on the first night, asking if I was out of town, and oh, where are you from? How did you hear about us? It was great. It was also nicer than expected to go back to an empty hotel room, but myself, after the dances were over. I feel like I was finally as courageous as I’d always imagined myself to be, going to this event alone. And that was definitely a good thing, since a lot of this trip was about finding stuff out about myself.

I drove home on Monday, stopping Monday night in Chicago with Katie. It was uneventful, which was fine by me. I made it home Tuesday without incident, in good time. I guess I did figure some things out on this trip, though they were mainly things that I need to work on, like my patience and my impulse, but I guess it’s a start. I know what I need to work on now, and am doing my best to do so. I hope to be a better, more grounded person when I get to Concord in the fall, so hopefully my time in Thailand is somewhat productive.

The Voyage of Self-Discovery, Part I

I guess my summer, up until a few weeks ago, was pretty boring, since, after I came home from Oberlin, I wasn't working. I mainly sat around the house all day trying to muster the will to get to the gym.

I had heard about the Twin Cities Balboa Festival at All Bal (which had been the highlight of my summer so far), and harbored a desire to go, but was unsure of whether this could become a reality or not. The Twin Cities are awfully far from Cincinnati, and to just drive up for the weekend seemed a bit excessive. However, luck would have it that my two best friends lived in convenient visiting-points along the way; Katie lived in Chicago and Louise lived in St. Paul itself. A plan was forming slowly in my mind: I could drive to Chicago, visit Katie for a few days, then drive to St. Paul, and visit Louise for a few days, then go to the Festival. It would be perfect! Now the question was: Did I have enough money? I fretted over this for a while before deciding that I did have enough, and even if the trip cleaned out my checking account, I was about to be a salaried teacher in the fall, wasn't I? Another motivating factor was the fact that I really needed to get out of Cincinnati. Due to a weird sequence of events, I’d been presented with some information about myself that I was not particularly proud of, and really wanted to get out of the house in order to figure things out; about myself, about this weird situation, about life. So, I decided to road trip. It worked out even more beautifully since my good friends from Cincinnati, also from high school, would be coming to Chicago for the weekend as well. So we headed north for a weekend of shopping and clubbing in Chicago.

I’d never been out clubbing like that before, and it was a bit of a shock to realize that I was expected to talk to and flirt with guys I didn’t know. I guess that’s how things work in the real world, and so far my experience was limited to Oberlin, where we had house parties and I almost always knew at least half the people in the room. I managed to convince Katie that I didn’t want to flirt with any guys; I just wanted to dance in the safe cocoon of our friends. Thankfully, she allowed me to remain inconspicuous, and I had a great time jumping around with my friends. My friends from home left for Cincinnati on Sunday morning, while I was planning to head out on Monday. Katie and I spent Sunday quietly, sleeping in then drinking coffee at Starbucks while we read and chatted. It was really nice and relaxing; I want to spend all my Sundays like that.

Monday morning I was off again, this time to Appleton, Wisconsin, to visit my favorite set of twins ever, whom I had met at Oberlin while teaching swing dancing. I made good time, and Laura and I had a wonderful lunch, after which she showed me around downtown Appleton. We went back to her house and just hung out and talked until her two sisters, one twin, Stephanie, one older, Catherine, returned from work, after which we had dinner then rented a movie. It was a wonderfully simple evening, but really fun. I love those girls and had a really good time hanging out with them.

To be Continued…

Graduation, etc.

I guess a post about graduation is, by this point, long over due. Over a month ago, I graduated from Oberlin College with Honors in Latin. The whole day- and the week leading up to it- were nothing if not surreal and almost fake. All of Senior Week, all I could think of was, "This might be the last time I eat at Black River, This might be the last time I walk to the gym," etc, etc. I felt like everything we did during Senior Week was incredibly forced- we all felt like we had to have the most fun and have the most outrageous time that week, and I ended up having very little fun. I can hardly party hard one night a week, let alone 7. And in addition to all this forced-fun, little arguments got blown out of proportion, everyone seemed to be mad at everyone else, and my housemates and I finally concluded that the administration keeps all the Seniors an extra week to make us all hate each other so we can't wait to leave. All this was a bit depressing, since I had started to become resentful toward the place that had been my home for the past four years. However, somehow I managed to get through it all- parents, my housemates families, packing- and finally graduate. It was a beautiful day, the speakers were all very good, even if the commencement speech was a bit of a downer. And that was it. I wish I could say that I felt some immense difference after I was handed my diploma, but in all honesty, I was just glad it was over, and was preparing to deal with the incredibly stressful aftermath. Swarms of family and friends descended upon us; I can't remember being more overwhelmed by people. But the ceremony was over; it was time to get ready to go home.

As I packed up my car after lunch, I kept waiting. Waiting to feel different, waiting to realize that I was never coming back, waiting to burst into tears. But it never happened. I teared up a bit when I said goodbye to some friends, but I would be seeing most of them again, whether over the summer or once I moved to Boston. As I said goodbye to my housemates, I knew I would see them all again, so again, it did not seem like a sad moment in which an era ends. I simply got in the car and drove away, as if it was the end to any other school year. I did cry a bit on the way home, but not much, and I have to say, I have yet to feel extremely sad. I am excited and ready to enter the "real world," and though I will miss Oberlin, I have to admit that I was ready to leave.

Perhaps I'll feel differently in the fall, when I am in Boston instead, but that remains to be seen.

Saying good -bye

I thought that I would feel different after I turned in my last exam on Saturday, free and happy, but I felt the same; anxious over my exam and wondering what I wanted to do with the rest of my day. I wondered to myself, "I'm done with college now; shouldn't I feel different? Where's that dramatic shift in my life?" I guess it didn't really hit me until yesterday, when I had to say goodbye to a close friend, one whom I don't know when I'll ever see again. It hit me hard when I walked into his room and saw that everything had been packed away. The room was bare and I though, "Oh my god, in about a week my room will look like this too. This is really happening; he's really leaving and I really have to say goodbye." We sat and talked and listened to music, joked about summer plans and discussed his plans for his semester abroad. But finally the moment came when he had to go meet other friends. He hugged me and all I could think of was "No, don't leave me," when in fact it is I who am leaving. I will be moving out and into the world, leaving behind this wonderful place I have come to call home. He was the first of many people that I will have to say good-bye to, the first of many whom I may never see again. As I walked home holding back tears, I couldn't help but think about my past four years here. I walked past all the buildings I had ever taken classes in, the library where I spent more than enough time, the lawns where we would lie out in the sun. As excited as I am to move on to a new phase in my life, I'm not really sure if I'm ready to leave this one behind. I love Oberlin, and all the people I've met here. I will miss almost everything about life here and am terrified of having to move to a new place and start over. I'm terrified of losing contact with those I really care about- everyone is so busy all the time, will I truly keep in touch? But I guess that's just a part of growing up- packing up and moving on, holding on to the things-and people-that really matter.

Its amazing how emotions can just run wild when something huge like college comes to an end. No one really seems to know what to do with themselves, so everyone just goes crazy. Classes just ended this past Friday, and though there is still a week of finals and two weeks till graduation, I still feel like I am going crazy. I don't know how to feel, and I feel everything at once- happy,sad, nervous, excited, depressed, and generally emotional. I don't have much to do by way of finals, so I'll be spending the next two weeks reflecting on my time at Oberlin and probably realizing that this place has meant more to me than any other in my short 22 years of life. I've grown so much here, so much about me has changed. I've made the most wonderful friends who I know I will cherish for the rest of my life. I've learned so much- academic and otherwise-and I feel fully prepared to enter the real world, though as ready as I am, I'm not sure I want to leave. Senior Week and graduation will be wonderful and sad and crazy all mixed into one, and I'm hoping that my friends and I create some memories that are both new and exciting and totally indicative of our time at Oberlin.

A Reflection

As I have mentioned before, this year was my last season of competitive swimming. We just had the end-of-the-year banquet a few days ago, and, since it was my last one, I couldn't help but think about the past 11 years, and what swimming has meant to me during them.

I started when I was 11, I think. I don't remember why, exactly, though the Princeton Aquatic Club was across the street from the Queen City Racket Club where my mom played tennis. I'd been taking swim lessons since I was small (my first flipturn is on tape somewhere), but had never swum competitively before. I still remember my first day of practice- I had to ask how many laps a 100 was! I was so inexperienced, and I was terrified. But, miraculously, I got better. And better. I advanced through the levels quickly, going from bronze to gold in 2 years or so. I loved every single second of it. Swimming became the center of my life. I would come home from school, have a snack, then eagerly sit around, waiting for my mom to be ready to take me to practice. I was always early, and usually the first one in the water. I became close the my teammates, who were from all different schools, and my coaches. I loved those men, and I still believe that they had the some of the greatest impact on my during those years. Wolf (short for Wolfenberg) and Dan- those two men ruled my life. To quote my beloved professor Kirk, when they said "Jump," I said, "How high and into which tree?" They nurtured my swimming and gave me my love for the sport. I got fast- my freshman year of high school, I went a 1:04 in my 100 backstroke; my sophomore year, I went a 1:00.

Then the unthinkable happened. Wolf got married and quit coaching, leaving Dan in charge. I was devastated. Wolf had practically taught me how to swim-it was because of him that I loved swimming so much! How could he just leave me like that?! I definitely saw this as the deepest form of betrayal, especially since I had such high hopes for my junior year. I thought that I couldn't break a minute in my 100 back if he weren't there holding the watch. Somehow, however, I got through the season and looked forward to the Sectional meet. But then I got sick, and went slow, and cursed life but knew I still had one more year.

It was the summer between junior and senior year that Dan got married and left. This was a major blow, since an entirely new coach would be coming in. I was terrified- how would someone who didn't know me at all help me achieve my goals? How could I do anything without Wolf or Dan?? I think that this attitude made me hate Mike from the very beginning, and I am sorry for that now since I feel like we could've come to an understanding if I had been more open. Alas, hindsight is always 20/20. However, hate him I did, and with a fierce intensity that stemmed mostly from my fear of change- change of coaches along with the imminent change of schools that the end of the year would bring. We didn't get along, though I might have still gotten faster if I hadn't fallen down the stairs while babysitting. I sprained my ankle in the worst way, right before high school season officially started. I was out for a month, and even after I was back in the water, my ankle continued to bother me. I was crushed, and, along with several other things, ended up having a fairly terrible senior year, as well as senior season.

I seriously questioned whether I would continue in college. I didn't know if I wanted to swim anymore, because I felt that Mike had made me hate it, along with what I perceived as my failure during senior year. However, Mark Fino, then the assistant coach, reminded me so much of Wolf that I felt compelled to give it a try. I'm forever thankful that I did because I loved every second of my college career. It definitely had its downs, but I feel like I matured so much because of swimming. I had to come to terms with the fact that I would never be as fast as I was my sophomore year in high school, which was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. But I realized that just because I would never break a minute, I could still work hard and have the best fun ever. I've been able to see this team grow from about 10 to 20 girls, and 5 to 15 boys. The girls have gone from never winning a meet to having a winning season. Both sides now beat other teams at the Conference meet. I remember when the girls beat Hiram my sophomore year-the first time we'd beaten someone at Conference. We came in second to last but I don't think anyone cheered as loudly as we did when they announced our name and score. I've made friends whom I know will last me a lifetime, and I am so so grateful for that. And even though it was hard, grueling, painful, and sometimes disappointing, I love swimming with all my heart and I will miss every part of it deeply. As Bryne said to me once, "You know that we don't do this for the numbers on the board. If we did, we would have quit a long time ago." And it's true, we did it because we loved it.

Translation

Last week, I (finally) participated in the annual Translation Symposium that is organized by the Comparative Literature Department. I've always wanted to do this, but always managed to hear about it after the submission deadline. Well, this year I had my act together, submitted a translation, and was picked! I translated a speech of Dido's from book four of the Aeneid. The specific lines are 296-332 if you want to look up the lines, but here is my translation:

But the queen knew something was wrong- who could fool a woman in love? She seemed to know everything, jumping at shadows. Nothing was safe. She heard a terrible rumor that the fleet was being armed and prepared for voyage, which infuriated her. With a broken spirit, and burning with rage, she tore through the whole city, like crazy Bacchants shaking the sacred rattle during the triennial orgies after they have heard the ritual cry, “Bacchus!.” In the night, the mountain Cithaeron lures them away. At last, she confronts Aeneas:

“Traitor! How did you expect to hide such a horrible crime and leave without telling me? Will nothing keep you here? Not our love nor our marriage nor even me? I will die! Why would you try to sail during the stormy winter winds anyway? I mean, if you weren’t trying to find a new home, and if Troy hadn’t been destroyed, would you even be here? Are you running away from me? I am nothing without you! What about these tears? Your left hand? Or our marriage and the ceremonies we just started? Do I deserve nothing good from you? Was nothing of mine sweet to you? I beg you to pity a falling house! Please, I pray, give up this mindset. Don’t you know that because of you all of Africa hates me, and my own people are my enemies? I destroyed my honor for you and my good reputation which would have made me immortal. Why, guest- since that is all you are now- would you want to leave me? I should kill myself now! Or should I just sit around and wait for my brother, Pygmalion, to destroy my city, or for Iarbas to capture and rape me? If only I could have had your child before you abandon me, if only a baby Aeneas would play with me and remind me of you, I would not feel so completely deserted.”

She spoke, and that one could not look at her. He would obey the command of Jove and, though he struggled, pushed his love for her deep into his heart.

I tried to make this a more modern translation, since Dido is just going through something every girl goes through at least once in her life- a terrible break up. Ok, hers is so bad she kills herself, but I think most women can relate to her on some level. I know I can. So I tried to bring that sense of loss, anger and frustration out here while keeping it as modern-sounding as the Latin would allow me.

The Symposium itself was pretty cool. There were about 20 people total reading in a variety of languages and its really amazing what some people came up with. As someone who translates every single day for class, and who mostly translates as literally as possible, it was really fun to sit there and listen to other people's interpretations of their text. All in all, a good experience. :-)

Drag Ball

This past weekend was Oberlin's annual Drag Ball, an event that, in my four years here, I had never been to. Naturally, with it being my last year and all that, I decided that I had to go, and since Chris and I had been talking about maybe going as Antony and Cleopatra for years, I had no problem figuring out who I was going to dress up as. As you may guess, Drag Ball is basically a school sponsored party where everyone dressed up in drag, gets drunk, and parties till the wee hours of the morning. I only actually participated in two of these things, since I got a bit bored around 12:30am, but I'll start the story from the beginning.

Once Chris and I confirmed our Classical theme, the next problem was figuring out how to get costumes. I am very low on funds right now, so I wanted something easy and cheap, but also really wanted to wear armor of some sort- I thought that a toga would make people think of Caesar, though I'm sure the majority of people there wouldn't know who one of the other was. In the end, due to financial limitations and time constraints, I ended up wearing a bed sheet wrapped around me in some sort of fashion, and it didn't look half bad. I even had a crown of "laurel" leaves, which was really a fake vine of ivy wrapped around a plastic headband. All in all, I looked somewhat like a real Roman, though togas are very andgrogenous (s/p?), but for me, that was besides the point. Chris looked stunning in a black dress from Greece that he borrowed from Shoshana, complete with a stuffed bra borrowed from me. He even had the Egyptian eyes going, and some nice classical looking jewelry, which really completed the look.

Of course, as we were getting ready, so were numerous other people who just popped into the house. We were all listening to music, drinking, and oooh-ing and aaah-ing over each others' outfits. Everyone looked great- Sarah looked almost exactly like Mark, if only a few inches shorter, and Erin was a spitting image of her younger brother, only with an afro. Mark went as "Rainbow Brite," which was an interesting combonation of mini-skirt, tube top, and 10-inch-high wig, all in very bright colors and too much make up.

Around 10:30, we decided to head over to Wilder, the student union, to commence partying. All of Wilder had been turned into a Drag Wonderland- there were decorations, lights, and music everywhere. It was very impressive. In Wilder Main, there was a hige catwalk with stairs coming down to it from the balcony, and this is where the performances took place. That's right, Drag Ball isn't just a huge party; the school hires professional Drag Kings and Queens to host the night and give a few performances. I only saw a few of these, and I have to admit that watching someone whose gender I was unsure of strip down to panties and pasties was not really my cup of tea. The one performance I thoroughly did enjoy, however, was not a professional's at all. It was Scott McInerney doing Beyonce's dance to Single Ladies, which he had been doing in our living room at parties all year long. It was definitely something to see him up there dancing away in a wig and leotard.

After Scott's dance, I'd decided that I'd had enough of drag and headed home. I'm glad I went, but I don't feel like I truly missed anything for the past three years. I think I'd rather just party at my house with people I know, instead of being packed into the student union with unfamilar faces, made more unfamiliar by the genderfuck. But I guess you can say that it was a good experience.

An Introduction

For some reason, I had the urge to create another one of these, using Blogspot now that LiveJournal seems somewhat out of style. I guess the reason I want to do this is that I want to improve my writing, and the only way to do that is to, well, write. Another reason is to help those I will leave behind at Oberlin keep up to date on my activities, if they so desire.
For those of you who don't know me, I am currently a senior Classics major at Oberlin College, soon to be released into the wide world. I used to be a competitive swimmer, but with the end of the '08-'09 season came the end of my competitive swimming career. It was very hard for me to greet the end of the season this year, since swimming has meant more to me than I ever could have imagined when I first walked into the pool at Princeton High School twelve years ago. Now that swimming is over, I have a bit more time on my hands to do things like worry about school, my future, my friends, my income, etc, etc, etc...But in what spare time I do have, I love to swing dance, which explains the title of my humble blog. I started dancing three years ago as an eager but timid freshman, taking full advantage of Oberlin's fairly unique Exco program. I was hooked after the first class, and have been dancing as much as possible ever since. I even teach the beginning Exco class now, which is amazing and so much fun.
As a senior, one must assume that I've either been slacking off completely or freaking out completely. I'd have to say it has been more freaking out than slacking off, since I'm not really the slacking type. Knowing that I won't be returning to Oberlin next year is one of the scariest things I can think of right now. Can I actually handle the real world? How will I not die of hypothermia in December? I can proudly say, however, that as of yesterday, after a month long, uber-stressful search, I will not be starving to death or squatting in my parents house after graduation- I have successfully secured a year long teaching fellowship at a swanky prep school in New England called Concord Academy. I'll be teaching Latin and "involv[ing] [myself] fully in the life of Concord Academy, which should be interesting since they don't have a swim team. When I started looking for gainful employment, I realized that I would really enjoy coaching, since I love swimming and it has been such a huge part of my life for so long, and decided that if I did end up getting a teaching job, I would definitely becoming involved with the swim program. So, naturally, I would get a job at a school that doesn't have a team. I suppose I could start one, but who would continue it after I left? Or maybe that would force CA to hire me for another year. And another, and another...
Needless to say, I'm excited about my future and trying not to give up completely on my last module at Oberlin. That has proven difficult, however, since I know have a job for next year secured and the weather is finally getting beautiful again. My thesis is due on the 24th, so we'll see how work on that progresses. Let the battle between Ploy, work, and Spring begin...