Father's Day: my dad

So far, on this blog, I've mostly talked about being half Native American.  Father's day, however, is the perfect time to talk about the other side. 

My dad is black and does not like when people say African-American because it insinuates that we did not originate here.  He was born and raised on American soil, so therefore he is American, not anything else.  I wish everyone thought this way.  Life would be ALOT less complicated.

Growing up, my dad was very strict and as a result I was very well-behaved, very quiet, but also very goal-oriented.  A lot of people didn't understand or like the goal-oriented/driven part about me because they thought I was trying to show off or whatever, but my dad taught us to be that way. 

He grew up in Charlotte, North Carolina during a time when schools were still segregated and crosses were still being burned and left in people's front yards.  Somehow, during our Sunday morning, breakfast conversations (when I was a kid) , he always managed to overlook that part of his past and instead focus on stories about his youth that might teach us a lesson. 

He talked about how he went to an integrated school so he could play football, his prom night, working in the fields with his dad, practicing for basketball, and meeting the Air Force recruiter.  I once asked about the racism and segregation, but he just brushed it off.  "Nah, I didn't worry about any of that."  That's how my dad is.  If it will cause negativity in your life, just brush it off, turn around, and keep heading in a better direction. This has become one of the most important lessons in my life and something I constantly remind myself to do. 

My dad thought about the future when he was a kid and how it could turn out.  He chose the best direction for him and now he is a successful and incredibly business-savvy person.  Even though I disagreed with him a lot, and still sometimes do, I couldn't have asked for a better role model.

Summer Sessions

School's out....okay, not really.  For my 7 year old, school is out and he is having fun at camp all summer, while my husband and I still work.  My 2 year old is in daycare and well, school is kind of ongoing for him.  The difference is that now both of our sons are learning through play rather than structured lessons.  My youngest enjoys this method of learning throughout the year.  Now, my older son is able to reap the benefits as well.  He goes on field trips every day that promote physical activity as well as creative thinking.  It almost feels like he is learning more this way.  He comes home and tells us about his day and asks a lot of questions.  He reads more (language/literacy), explores more (science/social studies), and creates (art) more. 

The learn-through-play topic has come up a lot in my research writing courses.  Most of my students are military, but I also have a lot of students who are Head Start teachers.  They are always finding ways to explain why so much more can be achieved through play.  As a former pre-school teacher, I always find myself agreeing with them.  Who wants to sit in a classroom all day and stare at words and numbers?  In my classes, I always try to find a way to get the point across in the most creative way possible.  Yes, there is a lot of writing, but we also have court-room debates, impromptu speeches, proposal writing about classes that the students would like to see offered, and group presentations on marketing strategies to recruit new students.  The students tell me how much they love coming to class and I know they are more likely to remember what they learned because they associate each activity with the lessons.  I usually end up seeing my students later at graduations or just around the island and they always bring up things we did in class.  I feel so proud to be adding to their college memories in a constructive way.  Especially since my college memories are flooded with night life, romantic encounters, and island adventures.  I appreciate those memories, but sometimes I really wish I would've paid more attention in class.  Only certain teachers ever made me pay attention and it wasn't until my senior year.  So, even though I hope to one day be teaching more specific college English courses (in the graduate division) at a university for a long time, I'm so happy to be working with the undergrads. 

On another note, it's summer now!  I've been to the beach ALOT and this past weekend I went to a music festival.  That definitely reminded me of college, but not in a good way (late hours, large crowds, super loud music, second-hand smoke, and overpriced drinks).  I waited forever to see the rapper/singer I bought the tickets to see and he didn't show up until 1 in the morning! I felt so old because I used to be able to stay wide awake for longer than that, but not anymore.  It didn't end until 2am and I have felt hungover (only 4 cran and vodkas) ever since.  Wow, 31.  = /





Thought of the day: Have you ever taken a really fun class where you ended up learning a lot more than you thought you would without even realizing it?  I have a few favorites, (spanish, literary theory, nature writing, creative fiction writing, etc.) but one of the most memorable was a memoir class I took at UMASS.  I learned so much about memory and also myself in the process. I was able to write about the fun college times and stop trying to relive them, which seems to be a struggle that alot of post-grads go through.  I also figured out how much I love writing, especially about experiences on the reservation. 

Facing the candles

So, I have been avoiding facebook and this blog for a couple of weeks because my birthday was coming up and for some reason this was the first time I was not excited, at all.  For weeks I have been thinking about the past and certain people from the past and I can't get them out of my head.  It just happened randomly and then my birthday came and my husband (who always likes to make a big deal out of my birthdays) asked what I wanted to do and I really just wanted to forget that I'm now officially in my thirties and not do anything.  It's still bothering me, but I think I know why this suddenly happened.  We are down to our last 11 months on this island.  Hawaii has become a big part of my life.  I decided to come to school here 13 years ago, after years of saying that I would only go to Syracuse University (where I got accepted by the way) because it was my dream school.  I only applied there, but later during that last year of high school, I decided I should have a backup school just in case.  When I went to a college fair, I looked for schools that were far away from Washington state. I wanted to be completely on my own.  Chaminade University was there and I applied.  When I got the acceptance letter I was excited, but not as excited as when I got the acceptance letter from Syracuse.  In the end, it was about cost and Hawaii ended up being cheaper than upstate New York.  Go figure. So, I came here, went to school, partied, was a serial dater, and then suddenly during my last year of college, I met my husband.  Everything seemed to go by so fast.  We moved, and moved, then came back, and now here we are, after almost 5 years of being back, we are down to our last 11 months.  This is the longest I've ever lived in one place and it's really become my home this time around.  It's sad and scary to think about leaving now.  This is a first for me because I have moved my entire life and I was so excited just a couple of months ago about being able to find out where we're going next (we find out in August).  I kind of feel like I belong here, but then again, that's also how I felt about Boston, so I guess it's just nerves and the next place will feel like home too, wherever it is. 

Thought of the day: During a conversation with a coworker, we talked about how some people stay in the same place forever because it's home and they're afraid of leaving, even though there might be more opportunities somewhere else.  I thought about how a lot of Natives stay on the reservations because it's home to them.  My mom left and I wouldn't be here stressed out about being 31 if she hadn't.  What makes certain people decide to leave home?  For me, it was proving to myself that I could do everything on my own and being able to take risks without worrying about what anyone else thought.  Those risks led me to where I'm at now, so moving turned out to be a good thing, but there's just something about the idea of "home" that always calls my name.  Sometimes I'm jealous of the people who grew up in one place and talk about it all the time.  But then I think about how I wouldn't have been able to experience everything I have if I hadn't moved. In the end, I'm a wanderer and I'm okay with that.