And as though keeping my promise weren't enough to keep me in Baltimore...

The Baltimore Symphony Orchestra will be performing, not just one, but all nine of Beethoven's symphonies during the next season. This is important for two reasons:

1. Beethoven is hardcore, like Led Zepplin, and other rock bands.

2. Every day for months until just recently I listened to the last movement of the Beethoven's ninth. The Freedom Concert recording, Bernstein directing the Berlin Orchestra when the wall came down. It reminds me of what I am doing here, working so that we can all be free here in America. I like to play it really loud. Incidentally, loud German singing induces weird stares from children and co-workers alike. That music has pulled me through much of my time here, so I intend to be there to hear the BSO play it.

It snowed most of the day today, then it switched to drizzle. It might turn to freezing rain.
My brain feels snowy tonight too. I'm waiting for fish to thaw to cook a dinner I'm not particularly hungry for, but which I feel compelled to consume.
I'm going home to Texas this summer. I thought about sticking around Baltimore, but like I told a friend of mine today: if I am to make it through a second year teaching in this city, I feel going back to Texas is a must.
I've been casually perusing the summer job market back in Dallas. I found a rather perfect internship organizing an international mission trip as well as collecting, writing and editing the devotional guide to be given to participants. Alas, the job requires that I be in college. There's so much opportunity just in general, particularly in non-profit communications.
Occasionally here in Baltimore, I've glanced at other jobs, and I guess that's where my brain feels fuzzy tonight.
At the end of the day, I'm a short timer here in this city. I won't always be in a classroom with a broken window, no books and a sink labled "for handwashing only." Yet, I work everyday next to people who are anything but shortimers. People with 15, 25, 30 years in the system. It's a hard line to walk, as it's bad form to mention that teaching is not what I consider my career.
I can't imagine looking down 30 years in this system, or in this city.
It's hard to know how to reconcile that - about a year and a half left. And then on to what I'm sure many of my colleagues would consider "bigger and better" things.
I don't know if they'll be bigger and better. Different. And not here. For now I'll take both.
Teaching's a tougher gig than people realize, it ain't rocket science, but it ain't a cakewalk either.

Dinner time.

In which serendipity takes a hand

I got an e-mail Thursday night from a friend of mine:
"Sara, do you want to go the Vagina Monolouges"

Egdy, political and empowering - yeah, I'm there. Went all through college, haven't been since Columbia. Also enjoy having a social life that doesn't involve immediately closing the achievement gap.

"I'm so there."

An Ethiopian dinner and running a few minutes late later, we realize that while we know it's on Johns Hopkins' campus, we actually have no idea where. So we start asking strangers, who don't know, tell us it's on the medical campus and direct us to the nearest theater.

For some reason we stop into a building where there are two white haired ladies. They look like they are waiting. I go to examine a bulletin board while Kyle determines if they are also looking for the theater. They are. Neither Kyle or I mention the Vagina Monolouges, figuring that we're all on the same page or that there's another production going on. After a discussion of whether it - either the monologues or the unknown production - is taking place, Kyle volunteers to brave the cold. He looks back as if expecting me to follow him into the icy wilderness, and I say to the old ladies that while he can venture out in the cold I'm more than happy to wait indoors.

We chat amiably. I complement the lady who I come to know as Rose's hat. She says that she got in Scotland and does not intend to give it up to me. It comes out that Rose and Elizabeth worked in Baltimore County schools as a nurse and secretary respectively. They are small and whitehaired, they are anxious to find the theater. "It's that, or just sit at home and rot," says Rose.

Kyle returns, bearing brochures. He has found the theater, Rose and Elizabeth are excited. A glance at the program bids me know he has not found the monolouges, but rather the two person play, Talley's Folly that Rose and Elizabeth were headed to. We walk out in the cold together. I offer my arm to steady Elizabeth across the dark, somewhat icy pavement, and Kyle promptly presents his to Rose. And arm in arm we go, steadying one another in the dark.

We come to the theater, Kyle and I have exchanged a few glances as if to say, "This is not quite what we planned." But we go in nonetheless, delivering our charges, and then buying tickets to the show, because what else would we do? We are easily among the youngest people there. Rose and Elizabeth are senior ushers, and tear our tickets before we are even in line.

So we watch the play, two people set down in 1944 Lebanon, Missouri. It is a little cheesy, slightly dated and completely delightful, particulary for the unexpectedness of it all.

After the show, Kyle and I go to bid goodnight to Rose and Elizabeth, names are finally exchanged. Elizabeth pulls me forward after I grasp her hand and kisses me on the cheek. Kyle and I have made her night she says. What a blessing to hear, I say, she has certainly made mine, I say. Rose gives me her last name if I ever wish to look it up. She lives in the county.

We walk out. Having met two more parts of this puzzling city. Having come upon something unexpected, yet very pleasant, having shared warmth with other folks on such a terribly cold night.

It could not have been better if we planned it.

So here's to serendipty and school secretaries. Here's to ticket takers, and social planners and listening to stories and offering a steady arm as you ask a question. And here's to letting your feet go where they will. I'll remember it all much longer than I would have the monologues.

So sits the moon over us all. Over Kyle and I in our different city blocks, over Rose and Elizabeth in from the county, over all these people and their stories, so sits the moon over us all.

YES!!!!
Snow Day! Snow Day! Snow Day!

For those of you keeping track at home:
There is a snow advisory in effect till 7 am. Now faithful readers will know that for the past two months most blog posts have dealt with the possibility of a snow day. But if ever there were a day for a snow day, tomorrow would be it. I'm recovering from strep throat, and would like nothing better than an extra day of recovery on the city's payroll.
So put your pajamas on inside out. Dream sweet dreams of snow and hope that there will be a delicious snow day tomorrow.

And my insanity reaches new levels:
Faithful readers will also now that I am the embodiment of the maxim "First year teachers are sick all the time." Since August I've been completely well for approximately 3 weeks. And now I have strep throat. However, prior to this ailment, I enjoyed several days of health. I attribute this to showering twice a day. I've never felt more gross than I do after spending a day with about 40 ten year olds. And as there is no ventilation in my room, because my window is broken, I just end up simmering in germy kid soup.
I also have come to believe that eating at restaurants, sitting in cold rooms, and/ or touching anything makes me sick.