Living in Las Vegas: Observation #6: Weather and Drunk People

When I learned that fate had decided to spin me into the western United States and plop me down in the middle of the Mojave Desert, I knew my surroundings would differ significantly from any of the other places I had formerly lived.  The southeast was lush and beautiful and it got plenty of rain as well as the most spectacular hurricanes in the world. Hurricanes get kicked up out of the Gulf of Mexico but by the time they get inland, all that's left are the torrential downpours, the mighty winds and the spawned tornadoes. As soon as I heard the weather sirens start sounding, I would hurry outside like I was one of those tornado chasers, desperate to catch a glimpse of a funnel cloud.  I would stand there, dark clouds surrounding me, with my head back, arms out and eyes closed, reveling in the fierce wind blowing wildly in face. It felt invigorating.  I know I was crazy but that's life in the deep south. The trouble with that area is that it is very hot and very humid, like all the time.

Even though I felt like my insides had been ripped out when I learned that we were moving 600 miles away, I welcomed the chance to get out of the moisture infused southeast and head north to a more temperate climate. The Virginias, in my opinion, have just about the most perfect weather in the United States.  The summers aren't too hot and the winters aren't too cold. It gets just enough snow to be enjoyable but not cumbersome, and the city has the happiest spring time on the eastern seaboard with its Cherry Blossom Festival.  My favorite time of year there, the autumn, was spent driving through the Shenandoah National Forest, which, with its deep red, orange and yellow hues, was the most breathtaking place in this vast land to witness nature in all its glory.

Although it took me some time to get used to living away from my family and living in a much colder climate than I was accustomed to, I grew to really love living in our nation's capital.  So as expected, it was with a stubborn temper and a distressed heart that I agreed to move yet again, especially when I learned that my new city was going to be in the heart of the midwest.  I believe my exact words when I heard the news were, "Well, I'm not going! You can go by your damn self." If you know me, then you will believe that I really said that.  However, I'm still a sweet, southern belle (most of the time) so I whole-heartedly packed up my family and moved half way across the country to the most excruciatingly cold place I've ever been in my life.  That first winter was brutal and I vividly remember crying for most of it.  I had two very small children at the time who had to dress up like they were going snowboarding just to walk to school.  We were too close to the school for school bus service and it would take too long to shovel out the driveway so I could get my car out, so we walked.  I was told that students weren't allowed in the building until 8:45 am unless the temperature was below 15 degrees, but I think the principal used that number as a rough guide because there were plenty of mornings when we stood outside waiting in below 0 temps, feeling the water in our eyes and noses freeze.  That winter was very difficult.  I can't say that enough, but by my second winter, I had learned how to dress properly and I actually learned to enjoy the cold and snow, but it always pissed me off when I realized my car door was frozen shut while I was holding a three-year-old and ten bags of groceries in my arms.

I was surprisingly disappointed when I was told, yep, one more time, that we would be moving to Hong Kong, China.  It was exciting, though, prospecting a foreign city and eventually building a new life there.  The weather was similar to the elements in the southeast so it kind of felt like I was going back home, except I had to learn how to drive on the left side of the road and how to speak Cantonese. It was very hot and very humid and it rained, like all the time.  Good stuff.

The Mojave Desert, of course, is the most recent area where we've parked.  What can I say about the weather here?  Well, there sure are a lot of drunk people here. You may be thinking to yourself, "I thought this blog was about weather.  What the hell is she talking about now?"  But there is no weather in the Mojave Desert.  It's hot and dry every single day.  It never rains and the weather pretty much never changes so weather here is a non-event. There's nothing to talk about when it comes to weather in here so I'm gonna talk about the drunk people that call this city home.

Take tonight for instance. I was sitting in a very nice restaurant, the kind of place you can take a family when, out of the corner of my eye, I began to notice a disturbance, a glitch in the matrix if you will.  Something felt out of place.  I should mention that this unusual occurrence was taking place at a restaurant that doesn't even serve alcohol!  It was around 6 pm so you would think the freaks would still be at home sleeping one off from the night before but here I was, witnessing first hand the depravity that runs rabid in this city.

This guy kept getting out of his seat, wobbly waving at everyone as they walked by, and staggering from one place to the other while knocking things off the tables as he tried to regain his balance.  To my absolute amusement, he incoherently started trying to talk to me but he was stuttering and slurring his words so badly that I couldn't understand a word he was saying.  I really tried hard to understand him, too, because I figured whatever he was saying would make a hilarious story to retell later.  There was music playing softly in the background so this guy started dancing, albeit, off pace to the music.  It looked like he may have been trying to sing but that could have just been fallout from his earlier blatherings.

I found his behavior entertaining until he started climbing all over the seats behind me and trying to talk in my ear.  He also started trying to take food right off my plate. The gall of some people!!  The friend he was with called him over and as he was running back to her, he tripped, fell over and then lost his shoe!  It didn't even look like he was embarrassed.  He just laughed, got back up and started running again, but not to his friend.  Nope! He ran over to the window blinds and started playing in those, ruining the meal of the diner's at the next table.  When he got tired of playing in the blinds, he ran to the center of the restaurant, threw back his head and starting smiling at the ceiling.  It was at this point that I went over and politely said to the woman he was with, "Can you please control your friend.  He's acting like a child."  To which she responded, "Um, he is a child."  I said, "Oh, really?  How old is he?" I smiled when she said, "He'll be two next month."  That conversation was a complete joke and his mom knew it.  That little boy brightened the faces of everyone in that restaurant.

The whole thing was really cute and it made me miss having a little one in the house.  That delightful child oozed sweetness and when his mom told me his name was Jackson, it made the whole scene end with a perfect twist of "Kate."  I couldn't help but start singing:

"We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout.
We've been talking about Jackson, ever since the fire went out. 
I'm going to Jackson, I'm gonna mess around.
I'm going to Jackson.  Look out Jackson town."

Of course, then Jackson looked at me like I was drunk.  : )

Living in Las Vegas: Observation #5: Last Day of School

Today was the last day of school for students in Clark County, Nevada, and today was a very bittersweet day for me for several reasons.  As I quietly begin my nice, long summer, most of my colleagues will continue teaching summer school for the next seventeen days.  You see, we teach in a very low income, 80% ELL (English Language Learners) school so summer school gives the students seventeen more days to learn, to build their English skills and to catch up to their native English speaking peers.  I toyed with the idea of teaching summer school with my friends and my beloved students, but my mother, my grandmother and my son are waiting for me to visit them in Alabama.  My daughter also has an ice-skating competition in Lake Tahoe next weekend and so it was with much regret and sorrow that I divided my students among the six remaining second grade teachers so they can begin their summer school lessons.  I know that I am leaving my babies in good hands so I feel good about it, but it still breaks my heart.

I love my colleagues and my students so much and I am so proud to have spent the past year working and learning with them. It's impossible to spend 7 hours every day for 184 days with children and not fall in love with them.  They called me their classroom mama, I called them my classroom babies and we referred to ourselves as a classroom family.  Our class song was "Get Together" by the Youngbloods and we sang it together every morning after we shook each other's hands while saying good morning in any language we wanted.  We learned how to say good morning in at least 20 languages.  We shared cheers and jeers, laughter and tears, successes and failures, sorrow and joy, discourse and harmony and even a few lockdowns.  We listened to "learning music," we danced, we sang and we found new ways to learn everyday.  We loved every minute of it all (except the lockdowns).

The last thing I told them was that no matter what lot they've been given in life, they can change their stars.  I played them the song "Right Now" by Van Halen and told them to make every minute of their lives count, to not waste one moment, to take advantage of every opportunity they are given and run with it.  I told them I want to see them in twenty years with a high school diploma, maybe a college degree, a good job and even a family, if they so desire.

I have taught in rural areas, in cities and even in other countries, but this was my first experience teaching in an ELL/underprivileged school.  I shed more tears this year than all the other years combined as I watched my students leave my classroom for the last time.  I knew when I was hired for my position that the population of the school was challenging in many ways so I knew my students would really need me.  What I didn't realize was how much I would come to need them.  Their silly antics and their unbelievably prophetic statements made me laugh everyday.  One of my students was reading to me when all of the sudden he stopped reading, looked up at me and said, "Mrs. T, it's not good for you to steal cars."  Of course I had to follow up and we talked for a minute about the people in his life who had bad experiences while stealing cars, and I told him that he was absolutely right.  It is not good for you to steal cars.

I developed a fun camaraderie with a student who wasn't in my class.  He was a handful of sunshine so all of the teachers would pitch in to help see after him.  Sometimes it even takes a village to teach a child.  He knew I had an accent and he commented about it from time to time but I never got around to actually telling him where I was from until one day, when he was being particularly full of sunshine, I said, "My mama taught me not to put up with that junk.  I'm from Alabama."  He laughed and said, "I thought you was from Texas."  I said, "WHAT??? Come on, man.  Don't insult me.  I'm from Alabama!"  From then on, every time I saw him he would say, "Ain't you from Texas?" And I would say, "I'm from Alabama."  I think I say I'm from Alabama so much that it's become obnoxious.  Whatever works, right?  So if you hear me randomly say, "I'm from Alabama,"  you'll know why.

The students' stories also made me cry. They were studying Thomas Edison who, even though he created lots of new inventions, really made his name making other people's inventions better.  I tasked the class with finding something they use in their lives everyday and then figuring out ways to make it better.  One of the students presented his wonderful project that was really just an explanation of what he hoped to do in his life.  He wanted to find ways to make medicine better. He said his goal in life was to become a doctor and cure cancer.  A fantastic classroom discussion followed and when I asked if there were any more comments or questions, one final student raised his hand and said, "I wish *student* had really invented a cure for cancer because then my mama would still be alive."  So yeah,  I felt a deep need to protect and care for those babies.  They will always have a special place in my heart.

I had such a wonderful year, but it wouldn't have been possible without such a supportive administration and office staff, a superhero support staff, and the most wonderful second grade teachers I've ever had the pleasure to know.  Without them, I would have crashed and burned within weeks.  So thank you to you all.  I also have to thank my husband who helped me move my stuff into my classroom and then it set up  (and then move it all back out again), who showed up to bring me lunch at a moment's notice when I realized that I forgot mine, who set up the camera in my classroom so I could video a lesson for my TESOL class and who picked up the children while I was taking my college courses on Monday and Wednesday nights.  My children have also been helpful by being patient with me as we transitioned to a two working parent family. They have become more independent as well so I think the change has been good for us all.

Sure, this year was tough, and for various reasons, it was probably within the top three toughest years that I've ever had in my life. I haven't always handled everything the best way that I could have or should have.  My southern charm has sometimes been suppressed by stress and anxiety and there have been things that I wish I could do over again.  But everything that I've been through this year has taught me a lot about myself and about what I can accomplish when I set my mind to it.  I took 24 hours worth of college classes to get my TESOL and GATE endorsements this year and I have even secured a Gifted and Talented Specialist position in the county for next year.

Even though I will desperately miss my students, colleagues and friends, I am looking forward to the next challenge in my life.  Teaching GATE has always been a goal of mine and sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure that I'm not dreaming.  I will be rebuilding the program at my new school from scratch and I know that it will be a lot of work.  I also know that I can do it.  I will use the lessons that I've learned this year to build the best GATE program my new school has ever seen.  My strengths will be my energy, my humor, my enthusiasm, my desire, my drive and the love that I have for my job.

Today was the last day of class for me, but school is not over for me yet. Not by a long way.  I plan to learn something new everyday, and I will not forget the struggles, challenges, victories and hallelujahs that I've experienced this year.  Those things helped me to grow and to become a better teacher and a better person. They are my lessons learned.

Living in Las Vegas: Observation #4: Memorial Day

On Monday, the most patriotic time of the year in the USA will commence.  In my world, this nationalistic season began on May 8, which was VE (Victory in Europe: WWII) Day, a day that I think should always be included in our American celebrations, but for most folks, the season will begin on Memorial Day.  I usually begin my festivities on Friday afternoon by stopping to see the disabled veterans who sell their beautiful poppies during all the patriotic holidays.  I give them a donation and they give me some lovely flowers that contrast splendidly with my hair.  Yesterday, I met a wonderful gentlemen who was wheelchair ridden and breathed from an oxygen tank 24/7.  I began asking him about his war days, about his favorite memories and about the pretty girls that he met a long the way.  He loved sharing his stories and I loved listening to them.  He seriously surprised me though when he told me that he was a paratrooper during World War II.  My response was, "Nuh uh. You're too young to have served in WWII!!"  He said, "Yeah huh.  I'm 88 years old."  Then he smiled a naughty little smile at me and asked, "What's your name?"  We talked for a little while and I liked him so much that I'll probably go back and buy some more poppies from him today.

I love talking to veterans of all wars because they have so many interesting stories to tell and they deserve to share their tales with someone who won't judge them for the quick decisions they had to make as they navigated the terror that is war. I always enjoyed listening to my great uncle, Wyatt Uriah Rainwater, Jr., talk about his time as an army medic.  I was enthralled with his recollection of the invasion at Normandy and how he had to swim to shore after the driver of his boat went missing.  I asked him how he survived while so many soldiers were dying all around him and I can still hear his voice saying, "With a little luck and lot of prayer." Those words touched me, and although I really miss Uncle Jr, who died in March 2002, I am so thankful that I took the time to listen to his experiences and to get a little insight into what he endured during his life.  We can learn a lot from our veterans, especially about how fortunate we are to be Americans where so many brave men and women are willing to fight and die for our country and our freedom.  

Although the Civil War sometimes sparks tensions between people and most folks tend to refrain from discussing it at all, it happened and most southerners have beloved family members who fought and died in that war.  My great-great-granddaddy, John Daniel Rainwater, enlisted in the Confederate Army on February 13, 1862, and was captured and held as a POW in the summer of 1863 at Island 10 during the Siege of Port Hudson in Louisiana.  He thankfully survived and went on to have many children with his wife, Rebecca, and, of course, I wouldn't be here if he hadn't persevered. Yep, I come from strong, southern stock! : ) 

While the Civil War is very controversial, the memory and service of the soldiers on both the Union and Confederate sides should always be honored and remembered.  The same should be said for veterans of the Vietnam Conflict (the USA has not declared actual war on any country since WWII so all military strikes after that were actually conflicts).  This was also a very controversial action taken by the US government but I am a firm believer that everyone should support the troops no matter what their opinion of the war is or what their political affiliation is.

There have been so many military altercations since this great country began and they haven't all been for the best reasons, but the people who fought in them were real.  They had families.  I know they didn't want to be separated from those families and they definitely didn't want to die.  But they stepped up.  They stepped up for you and for me and they should never be forgotten.  

Happy Memorial Day!  Now go get your poppies from some veterans and listen to their stories.  You'll be glad you did. 

Summer 2014 Patriotic Holidays to Remember:

VE Day - May 8

Memorial Day - May 26

Flag Day - June 14

Independence Day - July 4

Labor Day - September 1

Surrender of Japan Day - September 2

Patriot Day - September 11

American Wars and Conflicts/Deaths (This is not an exhaustive list and it's hard to get exact numbers because every source has different statistics.  Let's just agree that it's too many):

American Revolution - 25,000

War of 1812 - 20,000

Mexican-American War - 13,283

Civil War - 625,000

World War I - 116,516

World War II - 405,399

Korean Conflict - 35,516

Vietnam Conflict - 58, 209

Beirut - 266

Granada - 19

Panama - 40

Persian Gulf - 258

Afghanistan - 3,441

source:  www.militaryfactory.com

Living in Las Vegas: Not My Normal Blog #1

We make decisions every single day.  The little decisions should be the easiest to make because the consequences of making those decisions rarely have a major impact on the outcome of our lives.  It drives me nuts when I see people in the line at Panera Bread mentally battling over the menu choices.  Seriously? Just pick something.  If you don't like it, it doesn't matter. You have another appetite right behind that one so you'll be hungry again in like 3 hours.  Then you can choose something else and maybe you'll like that better.  This is not a life altering conundrum.  Just make a decision!!!  Actually, it must feel really nice knowing the toughest decision you'll make today is whether to get a mochaccino or a skinny vanilla latte.

Sometimes, well, quite often,  life presents us with more difficult dilemmas that require serious thought, soul searching, and contemplation.  Oh how it would be so much easier if life didn't play mind games with people, but life seems to have a very wicked sense of humor.  We really can't get around the fact that we are alive; that we are living, breathing mammals and that we are driven by evolution to continue hanging out with life until the flame of our existence ceases to burn.  Therefore, for better or worse, we are forced to play life's games. 

Life is going to do its best to test, to poke, to prod, to throw us a curve ball or lead us on a wild goose chase, and we need to be prepared to accept the challenges that life flamboyantly flicks our way. Our first relationship is with ourselves. I am trying to cultivate a positive relationship with myself so I can become my own best friend. I know that if I don't like myself then I am not going to trust a word that comes out of my mouth or a thought that pops in my head.  I have to love myself.  I have to enjoy my own company. Otherwise, I will be spending the entire day rubbing shoulders with someone I don't even like, which would be pretty damn miserable.   It would also wreak havoc on my decision making skills because people don't generally trust people they don't like.  I've encountered people who don't like themselves, and I know that they become hopelessly tragic characters who wind up eating prison burritos in Block A, Row C, Cell 4.  

I can feel life tapping me on the shoulder right now.  It's whispering in my ear, "Hey, your life has gotten too easy.  I've gotta do something to rock your world."  I brace myself and think, "Oh, crap. I better close my water tight doors before life drowns me with all these decisions that I have to make." I try to fill my day with distractions and busy myself with teaching, kids' activities, music (music is the key to my soul), and writing.  I'm even writing a musical that is written from a dog's point of view.  It's awful, but it's a wonderful diversion.  My dog, Daisy, seems to like that I sing to her all the time, and she even sings to me, too. I'm definitely her favorite human now, although I think I always have been. 

As I get older, all of these decisions become harder to make, probably because there is more at stake now. I may be going through a mini mid-life crisis even though I am technically too young for a mid-life crisis.  It's funny.  I always thought that men were the gender who are more likely to have existential entanglements around this age, but I've talked to many, many women who have reached a crossroads in their life. I think that "around 40" is the time when both men and women simultaneously review the past and ponder the future.  As we reflect on the experiences that we've had, we mull over what the next half of our lives will or should look like.  I don't know what my future will look like, but I definitely want to make the right decisions now so I'm not having this conversation with life again in ten years.  

There are so many songs that come to mind when I think about all the things that I am, that I want to be, that I should be and that I will be.  Flipping through songs on my playlist is a great distraction.  It's my favorite distraction. Every time I change the song, I can't help but notice the signs of time on my hand. When did I join the "around 40" crowd?  I look down at my hand and see the wrinkles that I remember seeing on my mother's hand and before that, my grandmother's hand.  It's the hand that has held the hand of people that I love, that has rubbed the back of a crying baby, that has written lesson plan after lesson plan, and that has caressed my daddy's cheek for the last time as he lay lifeless in his casket. 

Life, time, and decisions...so many decisions.  Maybe the person who is standing in line forever trying to figure out what to order is emotionally spent from making so many major decisions.   Maybe that person is stopping to grab a coffee after he's just signed the papers to take his mother off life support.  You never know what kind of decisions someone is agonizing over.  Maybe I should cut that person some slack.  I think the next time I'm ordering a coffee, I'll take extra time to make a decision about whether I want a peppermint mocha or a pumpkin spice latte.  Pondering that small decision while listening to "Ramble On" by Led Zeppelin might prove to be a very much needed distraction.