Notes from Around the Block

A Life Unfolding

July 5, 2009 · Leave a Comment

Not all people are handsome or beautiful or witty or charming.
So thought Fanny, a small 12-year-old girl.
She thought herself unattractive.
Not ugly but not pretty.
Just plain.

It’s what’s on the inside that really counts, said Fanny’s mom.

Fanny rejected her mother’s attempt to make her feel better with that overused cliché. Her mother churned out clichés whenever something in the family hadn’t gone well. A bad haircut, a missed dental appointment, rude Aunt Freida—all provided Mrs. Rosen with opportunities to coat the unhappiness aphoristically.

Remember, Fanny, Good things come in small packages, she added, so if Mr. Nichols calls you a little shrimp today, just smile and don’t let him know he has gotten your goat.

This verbal slathering ticked Fanny off beyond words, even the most cleverly ordered ones.

School was painful.
Not the school part.
The social part, which as every 12-year-old girl knows, is the more important.

Every morning, Fanny looked into her mirror and there saw big teeth and full lips that chapped easily. She hated her lips, so had no desire to brighten them with lipstick as so many other 7th graders did.

Her bangs, cut straight and about ½ inch above her eyebrows, gave her a juvenile look.

Maybe that’s why boys don’t like me.

Her doldrums began to beat like a big old base; first, in a slow and measured cadence, providing a structured rhythm for the up and down strokes of her brush upon her hair. The beat quickened with her heartbeat, as she contemplated going to school this morning.

She took refuge before the bell rang in Mr. Mimms’ room.
Mr. Mimms was her art teacher and to him, every drawing, clay pot, painting or paper mache’ creature was simply gorgeous.

Fanny placed four pieces of origami paper on each desk.

Make sure to give each student four different colors, piped out Mr. Mimms. Swans, though beautiful, are not easy to fold.

Mr. Mimms was a feminine man. He reminded Fanny of her Aunt Gertrude, who lived in New Jersey. Tall and slim, like a fashionably dressed stick figure, Mr. Mimms had a mouth that seemed to be always smiling, his lips turning up at the corners. He had a sweet disposition, like Fanny’s miniature poodle, Pepe.  As Mrs. Rosen would have said, Mr. Mimms doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.

Fanny folded her square in half and sealed the crease with each thumb and index finger pulling from the center out. She folded the triangle in half again. In a series of folds and bends, with creases and tucks, she meticulously followed Mr. Mimms’ directions.

Her mind wandered off with the half folded bird that was to become a swan.

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First Hamster Point of View

July 2, 2009 · Leave a Comment

250px-Golden_hamster_front_1

Day has come to an end.

The light in Fanny’s room is beginning to slip through the Venetian blinds and soon, at exactly 6:30am, her Mickey Mouse alarm clock will sound, she will stretch her legs out long and sit up like a rag doll on the edge of her bed.

As for me, I’m exhausted.
And I wish someone would oil my wheel.

In a tight ball, with my head tucked under my chest, I push my body down into my nest. After all, I’ve run a mile today on my wheel in keeping with my philosophy that a sound body equals a sound mind.

I must admit that I can be a cranky little cuss but who wouldn’t be a bit peeved when awakened after a marathon jog on a circle going nowhere?

Down in my nest, deep in my nest, I ensconce myself and shut my eyes as the light brightens and Fanny’s day begins.

My body relaxes; my heartbeat slows.
Night approaches.

But a noise startles me and through the tiny door of my cage, a fleshy hand is coming at me with pink fingertips enlarging by the moment. Down I go, as far as my nest will allow, in an all out effort to avoid the grasp of this claw.

Good Morning Buddy!
It’s me, Fanny.
Oh boo, boo, boo, boo, boo, boo.
Let me see that cute little face with those twitching little whiskers.

For God’s sake, child. Why do you insist on grasping me under my arms as if I am a napkin ring?

Cupping my body in her hand, Fanny pulls me out of my home and away from my warm nest, cradling me close to her nightgown and we both sit down on the rug.

For God’s sake, don’t you know I have been busy all day, traveling from one hot pink plastic tube to another, in search of fame?

I yawn, exposing my sharp yellow teeth.

You’re such a good boy, Buddy. What would I do without you?
Boo, boo, boo, boo, boy, Buddy-boy.

Fanny!! Get going to the bathroom. School starts in 1 hour. I expect you to be in the kitchen for breakfast in 20 minutes. Put Buddy back now.

The Lord has spoken, Fanny. Put me back.

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The Truth about Gatsby

July 1, 2009 · 4 Comments

Photo by Cheri Block Sabraw 2009

Retreating to classical literature with its enduring Truths is my custom when what I see, read or hear unsettles my stomach and troubles my heart. Like sipping an old Port wine or watching a baby toddle, I find comfort in the simple truths that so many would like to debate.

Perhaps one of the greatest opening lines in any classic novel is F. Scott Fitzgerald’s start to one of the top five books of the 20th Century, The Great Gatsby.

They go like this:

“In my younger and more vulnerable years, my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since.

Whenever you feel like criticizing any one, he told me, just remember that all of the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”

And so Fitzgerald creates his famous  reliable narrator, one who will dispassionately tell the story that we, the readers, will believe.

Nick Carraway’s father’s lines above alert us that this story will have characters that annoy, shock, and amaze us; still, we should suspend judgment, perhaps, until the last words of the book.

And then we can judge for ourselves.

There are those who would argue that Truth, and thus judgment, is a subjective term and yes, culturally, historically and religiously, we know that one’s truth may be another’s lie.

But in the big picture, say in the bones of The Great Gatsby, some of us know the following:

It was wrong for George to kill Gatsby and wrong for Gatsby to have an affair with Tom’s wife, Daisy. It was wrong for Daisy to have no relationship with her child, and wrong for Myrtle, George’s wife, to have an affair with Tom, Daisy’s husband. It was wrong for Gatsby to lie about his poor past and wrong for the Buchanan’s to flaunt their wealth.

It was wrong for Jordan, one of the minor characters, to lie about her golf game and wrong for Gatsby’s friend, Meyer Wolfsheim to rig the 1919 World Series.

It was wrong for Fitzgerald to stereotype Jews, blacks, and women.

The last lines of the story are these:

And so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.


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The Nerdy 58 Year Old Woman (4) : Day Two of my grammar class

June 27, 2009 · 3 Comments

You don't know a subject from a hole in the wall!

You don't know a subject from a hole in the wall!

On Thursday last, the second day of my grammar class, several of the shy students decided they weren’t shy anymore.

This phenomenon happened right in the middle of my story about a time when the Nerdy Little 8th Grader was a Nerdy Little 7th Grader.

*              *                   *

The Nerdy Little 7th Grader’s Horrible Fright

Being short has its advantages and the Nerdy Little 7th Grader learned that fact one hot May afternoon at Centerville Junior High School in 1962.

Mrs. Whooton was a stern and wide English teacher.

She was as wide as the Nerdy Little 7th Grader was tall.

Their personalities were as different as nouns and verbs.

The Nerdy Little 7th Grader was a force to be reckoned with and Mrs. Whooton was a mass of grammatical rules. In physics the equation would look like this: (F=ma)

Force = mass × acceleration

The acceleration came in a projectile known as an eraser.

The equation came to life that hot afternoon in May during 5th period as the smell of honeysuckle wafted into the open windows and the Nerdy 7th grade girl’s mind wandered away from subjects and predicates and over to horses and the upcoming Kentucky Derby. She had a 25-cent bet with Meaux Morrow that CarryBack would win.

Ms. Whooton demanded that her pet, Kathy, and the Nerdy 7th grade girl go to the blackboard and diagram two complicated sentences.

The Nerdy 7th grade girl was running for ASB Vice President against Lisa, a girl in full bloom, so the Nerdy 7th grade girl needed a stunt to draw attention to her mind, not Lisa’s body.

She diagrammed the sentence in a twisted way, so that her diagram looked like stick figures solving a physics equation.

Kids laughed, so she kept creating more legs and marks and slashes and diagonal lines. It was the happy face that did her in.

If force is measured in newtons, then a newtonic eraser came hurtling through the atmosphere at Mach 1. Launched from the back of the classroom, with 160 solid (and wide) pounds of horizontal thrust, powered by an angry teacher at a small child, the eraser hit the chalkboard, just after the Nerdy 7th grade girl ducked.

She yelled at the Nerdy 7th grade girl: You don’t know a subject from a hole in the wall!!!

*           *             *

One of my formerly shy students asked, What did the Nerdy 7th grade girl do then?

Before I tell you what happened, let’s review what a subject of a sentence is, shall we?

So, things (and persons and places) are moving along swimmingly in Grammar Grades 7-9. Conjunctions, adverbs, and adjectives are on tap for next Tuesday. We will be using Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll.

And to think I am getting paid for this fun. What would Isaac Newton have said about that gravitational pull?

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The Nerdy 8th Grade Girl’s Plan for Popularity (3)

June 24, 2009 · 6 Comments

Black Jack Gum

Here’s the second part of the story that my students will receive tomorrow, before the quiz.

The Nerdy 8th Grade Girl’s Plan for Popularity

1963

Nerds love to memorize things like the Gettysburg Address, all prime numbers to 7919, eighty vocabulary words a week, and Walt Whitman’s O Captain, My Captain and the nerdy 8th grade girl was no exception.

Learning all 53 of the most commonly used prepositions was as her father said, chickenfeed.

Out in the hallway by Mr. Mims’ classroom, Mr. Mims popped out the door and asked the nerdy 8th grade girl if she had finished her origami project, folding a lithe perfectly pressed swan for a class mobile.

Absolutely, Mr. Mims. My 100 pastel swans are in this shoebox, ready to turn in to you. Can you imagine what my mobile will look like with 100 swans?

I have also begun a gum wrapper chain that extends from my bed to the family room, so if you know anyone that chews Juicyfruit, Beemans, Blackjack or Clove gum, I need their wrappers. My goal is a 50-yard gum wrapper chain. Ok, Mr. Mims?

Mr. Mims raised his feminine eyebrows and winked, imagining the glorious mobile, and then sashayed back into his classroom, followed in by the nerdy girl.

Just then, Dennis and David Kennerson, the cutest twin guys born in this century, walked past the classroom door on their way to Algebra 1 Honors class. Wavy, but not too wavy, blondish brown hair and big soft blue eyes (the color of the Beeman’s gum wrappers), outlined by long soft lashes ,drew the nerdy girl out into the hallway.

All the swans in her box couldn’t have attracted them to her. The boys were interested in Kathy whose body had a shape not like an origami swan.

Hey Dave, are you ready for Mrs. Poier’s quiz on the 53 prepositions? Kathy asked. She shook her blond ponytail from left to right and then put her finger in her mouth.

Naw. That assignment is garbage. When the heck are we ever going to use 53 pronouns in real life? asked Dave and Dennis nodded too. And then, just to be ultra cool, they said the word crap.

Out of Mr. Mims’ door jumped the nerdy 8th grade girl.

Did someone say crap?

Yeah, we did. We are going to flunk this quiz and we don’t care.

If you flunk, you can’t go to the dance on Friday and I hear that Mr. Schnabel is going to allow 5 more slow dances, including Andy Williams’ Moon River, said the nerdy 8th grade girl.

Come over to my house after school and I will teach you a special way to learn the prepositions.

The Kennerson twins and Kathy, Dede, and Christine all converged at the nerdy girl’s house, her fame from the Mayor Art show just a dusty childhood memory.

OK. To remember long lists, poems, and vocabulary words, I use a method called Memory by Association. It works! I have never had any grade less than an A on any assignment.

Kathy yawned. Dede signed. Christine was skeptical.

The nerdy 8th grade girl’s mother pulled some chocolate cookies out of the oven.

The Kennerson twins sniffed and eyed the tall glasses of ice cold milk from the Cloverdale Creamery on the table.

Ok Guys, come on over to the table, have some cookies, and I will teach you Memory by Association. It really does work.

Ok. So the first three prepositions are above, across, and after. Can you think of a sentence that you will remember that includes those prepositions?

Let me help you get started.

At the dance on Friday night, after the music, Dennis came across the floor to ask someone to dance…and then….

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The Nerdy 58-Year-Old Woman (2): Day One of my grammar class

June 24, 2009 · 4 Comments

It's OK to be shy.

It's OK to be shy.

2009

OK. I am sure you, my loyal reader, are more interested in what happened yesterday at 4:00 when ten junior high students entered Room 2 for 1.5 hours of grammar instruction than you are say, in the gripping events unfolding in Iran, so I’ll get right to it.

Some description of the students is in order to set the scene.

Instead of an age range of grades 7-9, as the class was advertised, parents sneaked 6th and 10th graders onto the roster.

Having such a range in a class has never bothered me although the big kids usually look at the little kids with curiosity, as one would inspect an odd bug on the wall.

To quell any notion that big kids may have about their class placement, I usually say to the little kid, Hello David, it will be nice to have a boy genius join our class this session.

Of the ten students, three are girls and seven are boys.
Of the ten students, two are outgoing and eight identified themselves as shy, so shy that they couldn’t raise their hands when I asked, It’s OK to be shy, so who is shy?

When I used my arms to create a grammar barometer, with 10 meaning I know my grammar and 0 meaning I don’t know jack, one student signaled 10, one student signaled -2 and the others came in with an average of 5.

My story went over well. The shy students smiled to themselves. Jason, one of the outgoing students, asked if I was the Nerdy 8th Grade Girl. I told him to look up the subjunctive mood in his assigned grammar text.

Tomorrow, if they learn all 53 most used prepositions, so that we can begin to cross out prepositional phrases and get to the meat of each sentence, they will get a treat.

On a feel good note, a little third grade boy on roller shoes has been hanging around our academy door. I invited him in to see the place. Turns out his mother is a cook at a restaurant in our shopping center and since school is out, he has to hang around while she works for a living.

I told him that his luck was good because at that very moment we were offering a special: a free class to any third grader who showed up at 11:30 am.

Robert skated down to the restaurant as fast as he could with a registration form in hand and will be back at 10:15 today to join two other kids whose parents can afford an enrichment class.

He told me he needs work on his writing.

We all do, I said.

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The Nerdy 8th Grade Girl (1)

June 23, 2009 · 11 Comments

The Nerdy 8th Grade Girl sorta liked John the best because her birthday was the same as his.

The Nerdy 8th Grade Girl sorta liked John the best because her birthday was the same as his.

Today I begin my summer grammar course for middle school students. At 4:00 this afternoon, ten kids whose parents have forced them to attend my class and who were hoping that summer might provide a much needed respite from boring school work, will walk into my room and face a 58 year old woman who will try her damnedest to make grammar fun. They will be trapped with me for 1.5 hours (and I with them).

The only way to teach anything is by hooking their little sick minds in with stories. I am known for my stories all the way to Beijing.

Here is the first handout they will receive before we launch into a lesson on the importance of prepositions.

The Nerdy 8th Grade Girl

1962

Once upon a time, a nerdy 8th grade girl was spurned by the popular clique, a group of overly developed females who wore scrunchies to tie up their blond ponytails and who spent lunchtimes deciding which Beatle—Paul, John, George, or Ringo—they loved the most.

These gossipy girls shaved their legs, curled their hair, and  carried purses with lipstick, photographs, and transistor radios (which were banned at the time). The leader of the gossipy girls was Kathy and she was a looker. Boys drooled all over their desks when she walked up to the blackboard to diagram sentences.

She was also a kiss up and  Mrs. Poier’s pet. Her blue eyes and blond hair and that stupid scrunchy annoyed the nerdy 8th grade girl. The 8th grade girl hated Kathy’s guts and hated her scrunchy and hated her blond hair and hated her purse and hated her lipstick and wanted her hidden transistor radio. She hated everything about her (but her transistor radio).

How could that nerdy 8th grade girl get those dumb boys to notice her?

She would become a grammar whiz. She would help them cheat on their homework.

She would memorize all 53 of the most used prepositions in the English language.

Now, if only her plan would work.

Will it??

I will let you know how the story went over, up, down, around, out, and through…

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Spin those transcendent virtues!

June 22, 2009 · 6 Comments

Winter in the Desert by Cheri Block Sabraw All Rights Reserved. 2008

I realize that what is right in one situation may be wrong in another.

In some cultures, slurping soup is the sign of impending digestive joy and in others, avoiding direct eye contact shows respect. However, some actions are just plain wrong at all times.

Literature is an effective way to help students question the actions of fictional characters who make poor decisions. This questioning impacts the student, who may begin to put himself into the characters’ shoes. And we know that being in someone else’s shoes is sometimes more comfortable than confronting our own moral shortcomings. My favorite novel to use for the purpose of examining moral decision- making is John Steinbeck’s The Winter of Our Discontent.

In brief, the main character, Ethan Allen Hawley, a good man, descends into a world of temptation, sorcery, crime, and moral bankruptcy when faced with the pressures from his family and society. In this story, a moral inversion occurs; that is, what we consider bad becomes good and what we think is good becomes bad. In current jargon we might call this moral inversion the spin, the spin we like to put on events and circumstances that we find uncomfortable.

Before my students  opened the book, they had to take a quiz with 30 questions about moral decision- making.
For example, one question went like this:

If you found a wallet, full of money and credit cards, in a phone booth, what would you do?

For most of us, the answer is obvious. Contact the wallet’s owner.

Here are the types of answers that students shared:

  • I would take the money out and then mail the wallet to the owner.
  • I would keep the wallet and the money and mail the credit cards to the owner.
  • I would return everything to the owner.

Here is the answer that stopped me cold, fifteen years ago:

  • The wallet isn’t lost. It is found. Now it is mine.

I can even remember the student who said this. His answer chilled my soul.  It was a perfect answer to hear before reading The Winter of Our Discontent. Bad is good, good is bad, lost is found.

The spin had begun.

But you can only imagine seeing the smug grin fade to an awkward grimace when I told him that the wallet lost in that phone booth had been my husband’s, on his way with my son to visit colleges in Arizona.

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Off you go

June 17, 2009 · 13 Comments

200px-My_antonia

I have been one of those types who bounds along in life like a terrier in high grass.

I see myself as young and vital until I look in the mirror and recognize that many years have passed since I was a girl.

If lucky, I might have 25 years left.

This thought kills me.

I surround myself with youth who make me think, make me regret, make me laugh, make me vital.

Yesterday, I planned a mini-party for my 4 student employees who are graduating from high school tonight.

We had carrot cake, ice cream, and milk.

My secretary and my director Joyce joined the party.

Dipti, Priyanka, and Christine opened their gifts.

Marvelous young women they are: Dipti headed to UC San Diego, Priyanka to Drexel’s MBA/Medical program, and Christine to USC’s Marshall School of Business.

Impromptu, I acknowledged each young and incredible face for the contributions in work and spirit to the business.

They are headed out to university with all of their dreams and fears.

I want to go with them.

The wiser and bigger Cheri wouldn’t be so lugubrious.

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The Ping Dynasty

June 15, 2009 · 7 Comments

Fu Dogs Guarding the Emperor's Palace

Fu Dogs Guarding the Emperor's Palace

Tomorrow morning at 9:30 the Emperor will see me for 15 minutes.

Booking my sitting with the Emperor was an act of endurance that began five weeks ago, after my miserable experience in a public school classroom.

I will avoid the details of securing this 15-minute appointment at the Palace; suffice to say, this bureaucratic game of table tennis has been a marathon. If I were a generous donor to the Educational Foundation, my little tokhas would have been sitting atop a school district tuffet last month instead of tomorrow morning.

I am not Judge Blah with a title that suggests power.
I am not a journalist from the local paper.
I am neither a school board member nor a big shot from Beijing.

My pings go pong.

Since I have known every other Emperor of our District since 1958, this snub annoyed me.

So, on my way to buy a kebob for lunch today I took a nostalgic shortcut and drove by Maloney Elementary School. Naturally, I thought of Tom Maloney, the first of many school superintendents I would come to know.

1958

Children, please stand up. Mr. Maloney, our Superintendent of Schools, is here to visit. Can you say good morning to Mr. Maloney?

Good Morning, Mr. Maloneeeeyyy all thirty voices obediently bleated.

Good Morning, children. I am in charge of all of the schools in our city. Do any of you have any questions about your school?  Yes? What is your name?

Cheri Block, said a short little girl with a Buster Brown haircut.

What is your question, Cheri?

I don’t like fish sticks. Why does the cafeteria serve fish sticks every Friday?

Even back then, the superintendent dodged the question.

Fish sticks are good for you, Cheri.

Joey Santos, sitting in front of Cheri, leaned back and whispered, Catholics don’t eat meat on Fridays. I know, because I am Catholic.

2009

What is your question, Ms. Sabraw?

Emperor Ping, are you aware that high school students are texting during class?

What does it matter when the students are blowing the lid off the SAT scores?

But Emperor, are you aware that students are texting under desks and in their pants?

What does it matter when 64 seniors at this high school were admitted to UC Berkeley for next fall?

Did you know that 4 out of every 6 teachers a student sees each day either aren’t aware (we call this clueless, your highness) or don’t care that their students are texting?

What does it matter, Madam, when administrators, teachers, parents, and students are not complaining to us at the Palace?

What about manners, decorum, the Educational Experience, and all that we should hold dear?

Fish Sticks!!

The Fu Dogs outside the Emperor’s door smiled obediently and passively as I left.

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