With liberty and injustice for all...

Today my Butterfly Pavilion work took me to an elementary school on the outskirts of Golden, CO. When I drove up to the school (after accidentally driving into the grounds of their next door neighbor, a country club) I found many other presenters there from the Denver Zoo, the natural history museum, the bug mobile, etc. Turns out that this school hosts an annual science day. This is an awesome idea, don't get me wrong. However, as soon as I entered the building I knew I was in a place of affluence. After going into many different schools for my undergrad work, student teaching, subbing, and now the BP, I am a pretty good judge of the affluence of a school based on its appearance. This one, with large classrooms, carpeted hallways, brick exterior, large playground and string instruments in the hallways, was definitely well off. When our first group of students came into the music room, my judgement was further solidified: every kid was white, well-dressed, and very clean. The student to teacher ratio for the 3 classes I observed today was about 18 kids:1 teacher. These kids knew their stuff, too. They clearly had worked hard on the information of metamorphosis before, and definitely had support at home to help them. These kids had an impressive biological vocabulary. Did I mention that student:teacher ratio? Yeah, 18:1..the classes I student taught in an affluent rural school district in Indiana had a ratio of 30:1, just to give you an idea of why this is so amazing to me.

It is not Blog Action day, but this post is quite pertinent to that. Most urban schools could not have hosted this type of event. Without an enormous grant they would have been unable to pay for all the presenters. On top of that, they would not have the luxury of taking an entire day out from the regular schedule b/c their schools are "failing" according to the national government. These schools have to teach a strict curriculum to ensure their students have even a fighting chance of passing their standardized tests. Why must these students pass the tests? In order to move to the next grade, personally, and to make sure their school can get enough federal/state funding to continue paying everyone and keeping technology up to date. In Wednesday's debate, John McCain said something that made me so upset I yelled at the TV. He stated that some of the "worst" school districts in the country get the most funding. This is an absolute blatant lie. I'm currently doing a BP after school program at a DPS school in an area with a very high Latino population. I am there giving the program b/c they got a grant, and let me tell you, this school has not been updated in quite some time. It looks a little sad on the outside, but these kids are amazing. And yet, their school is marked "failing." A school full of bilingual and soon to be bilingual students where teachers take time to write grants for after school programs is marked failing. Without any data I can tell you this school get significantly less money from the government and tax payers each year than the school I visited in Golden today.

As I wound my way through the hallways of this elementary school today, I happened upon a classroom of students saying the pledge, hearing the line "with liberty and justice for all." After my experiences there and while reflecting on my thoughts on our country's education system, I cannot believe in that line. What I have told you about above is injustice. Each day, the wealthy students at this elementary school get more attention from their teachers and enjoy  more programs and services, while students in many DPS schools use outdated textbooks and learn amongst the 25-30 other students one teacher is working diligently to serve. This makes my heart cry out. Don't fall for the lies the government tries to tell you: schools with more funding do better. Period. More money = more resources = better education. Don't believe that students from lower income families deserve less. They work just as hard and probably harder than those of us privileged enough to call ourselves middle class. Until the day comes when schools are properly funded and the national education budget becomes larger than that for defense, speak out. Learn the truth and tell the truth about education in this country. All children deserve to succeed and they deserve the best.  

Bike Ride

Clothing/equipment for 8:30 am bike ride: jeans. smartwool socks. tanktop. long-sleeved shirt. fleece zip up jacket. down vest. scarf. 1 pair gloves. 1 pair mittens to be worn over gloves. 1 fleece earband. 1 helmet.

As I left the house, there was frost on the grass and the raspberry bushes. As I quietly mourned the end of summer, I also enjoyed the beauty of the frost and the warmth of the morning sunshine.

Clothing/equipment for 2:45 pm bike ride: jeans. smartwool socks. tanktop. long-sleeved shirt. scarf.

Oh sunshine, how I love you. I needed an excuse to bike home on the beautiful Cherry creek bike trail, so I headed off to Vitamin Cottage for a bag of carrots. While fall colors are not so vibrant here, they are still amazing. The sun sparkling on the water of Cherry creek. The red creeping vines on the sides of the bike path. Brilliant yellow trees, some leaves edged in deep brown. The beautiful brown and yellow and green trees reflecting in the water of the S. Platte river. (As a side note, today I was 10 mins. early for work, so I walked around a 2 city block square and just noticed things. People with multiple dogs or serious briefcases. A shadow from sunshine on the ground. Veins of brown running through a bright yellow leaf as sunshine filtered through the branches.) It was glorious!

I LOVE living in this city with so many parks and well made bike trails. I love the plentiful sunshine and crisp temperatures. It's great. Sometimes, though, when I am driving through town at night and look up at the big buildings with twinkly lights I am awed and in slight disbelief that little me, in fact, lives here. It's only when I'm downtown and it's dark that this happens, really. I generally feel like I belong here, a woman from farm country, amongst the city scene. But I am awed at these giant buildings and the fact that I live in a capital city. It's an awesome feeling.

Day Off

Today started out quite nicely with breakfast at a local place called Dozens. No greasy spoon this establishment(which really is my favorite kind of breakfast place), nay, this one poured delicious coffee served with cream in a tiny carafe with raw sugar to add. I breakfasted on a green chile, tomato, and cheddar omelette, served with fried potatoes (surely with a hint of sour cream added), whole wheat english muffin with apple butter on the side, and a pineapple garnish. Delish. My breakfast companion, James, provided lovely company, as we sat in front of a sunny window and drank too many refills of rich coffee. Yeah, I'm a fan.

Now I am home, hearing stories of fully-employed housemates and potentially-employed housemates. I'm now sitting in the office in our house, next to a bright sunny window, listening to the accidentally perfect playlist I discovered on the computer in here. I don't know which housemate I have to thank for this, but I sure do love discovering awesome untitled playlists on this computer. What else is on my plate for the day? Having already researched possible wedding reception sites in the Goshen area, I'll be soon headed to the library to return books, then take a trip to Target to return the worst bike lock ever (WBLE for short). Then, this evening, my fellow educator, Erin G-wals and I will head off to Educator's Night at the Denver Museum of Science and Nature. We get to watch an IMAX film on Alaska for free! And visit the museum for free! I am such a science nerd...this is incredibly exciting to me. It's a good Monday, ya'll.

Hark! The town crier speaks:

Hear ye, hear ye!
Miss Emilinda is now gainfully employed!

Yes, it's true, folks. Yours truly has found gainful employment in the big bad world of Denver. I now have two part time jobs, and the details are still getting worked out as far as hours and scheduling go. I'll be working at the Butterfly Pavilion as an outreach presenter, giving talks on insects to people of all ages, preschool to sr. citizens. I'm really excited, since I really want to be an environmental educator. I'll also be working at Parsley, a little fresh sandwich/salad/juice/smoothie cafe' in the Golden Triangle neighborhood. This is also really exciting. They use organic/natural ingredients, the decor is all green inside, and the people seem really friendly.

That's all for now. It's a beautiful day, one of my last days unemployed, and I'd like to read in the hammock.

Rather than...

Rather than do any actual wedding planning...I'm reading a book about the ridiculousness of the wedding industry.

Rather than do more job searching...I went to a local coffee shop with James today and just talked for over an hour.

Rather than buy any produce...I'll just eat the tomatoes, raspberries, swiss chard, and zucchini in the garden that I didn't even have to plant.

Rather than hear Obama's acceptance speech at Invesco...I'll be doing Thursday Night Grilling at my house and hopefully finding somewhere to watch his speech on TV.

Rather than becoming part of the DNC craziness...I'll be sticking to my favorite places in my neighborhood: Huston Lake park and the Athmar Park branch of the DPL.

Rather than unpack...I'll continue to keep my stuff in boxes until we find more furniture.

Rather than stress out about my current unemployed status...I'll watch season 3 of The Office on DVD.

Rather than continue this blog post...I'll think about making something for dinner.

In which I am a mile high and you are not

I don't have anything profound to say, and I have only 9 minutes on this library computer to do so. I am now computer-less, bed-less, and job-less in Denver. It is a mile high. You are not.

Even though I am missing many things that make my life comfortable and livable, I am happy to be here. My house has an amazing backyard with raspberry bushes, twinkle lights, swiss chard and tomatoes in the garden, and hardwood floors. My neighborhood is full of Latino and Asian grocery stores and restaurants. I am looking for jobs and setting up house. And often, I have to remind myself that I live here now, that this is not some weird crazy vacation I signed up for.

Yesterday I was using our beautiful looks like it was ripped from the page of a home improvement magazine bathroom, and I realized that some day in the near future this will all feel normal and routine. Right now I desperately wish for a routine of some kind, but I think there is also something great about not having one. I am more aware of my surroundings and my feelings than normal, because I have nothing to do but pay attention. So, until I have a job and a routine, I will notice. That's about all I can do these days.

Me voy

I don't really have much to say, just had an urge to type. It's surprising and also not so much so that I have little to say, as the past two weeks have been a whirlwind of craziness. My brain is still in the midst of such a whirlwind: I leave my house in Goshen for good on Tuesday. Already one of our dear housemates has departed onto her own adventures in AK. I attended two weddings of very good college friends in as many weekends. Just today, I spent my last Sunday at yet another home in Goshen: Assembly Mennonite. And here I am, again typing in the GC computer lab (no more internets at The Spain), which makes me feel like a college student frantically typing up a last minute assignment.

Leaving is weird. Earlier in the summer, I considered making a list of all the places and things I'd want to do just "one last time" before moving. I'm glad I didn't make such a list because I surely wouldn't be able to complete it. I've made a multitude of lists these past few days: lists of things to pack, lists of items I need to find a home for, lists of people to call, lists of moving details to take care of. None of them are finished. And most of them will remain just slightly unfinished. Then there are the lists I have kept in my head, full of items that I should have done but didn't: kept in better touch with some of my profs, had one last quality catch up conversation with Alana before she left, quit work at the co-op earlier, etc.

As I walked down the hallway in our apartment this afternoon, still talking to Kimberly in her bedroom, the hallway echoed. It never used to echo, you see, because there were posters and beautiful fabric hanging up that buffered the sound. It's the little things like a newly echoey space or the wall decorations coming down that totally shock me into realizing that life as I currently know it is over. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade these intense, sometimes difficult, always rewarding and beautiful living experiences with people I love dearly for anything, but the sad truth is that it becomes very painful to leave when it is time.

It's time, though. Boxes are being packed. Plans are being made for new places. I will no longer laugh with my co-op coworkers or sing the tree song and drink coffee at Assembly. I won't read at the Brew or eat at County Seat or visit with friends at the farmer's market while buying produce. I don't know what I'll be doing, really, nor what any of The Spain will be doing. But, as my father would say, "The time has come, the walrus said, to speak of many things." So off I will go, (hopefully completely) packed up by Tuesday, filling one car with the combined possessions of James and myself, to a new adventure.

Did I mention that leaving makes me melancholy?