Nothing is certain but death and....

Taxes. For those of you who can already see where this is going and are fleeing from the impending rant, I don't blame you. For the last two years I have worked for literally NO pay and this is the second year that I have totally screwed by my one attempt to something to give back.

If anyone knows a mysterious way to deduct the income that comes from an AmeriCorps award, I would really appreciate it. Right now I have 6,212 dollars of mysterious income that I never saw that supposedly came from our government. (The actual amount of the award is MUCH smaller.) Unfortunately, even though I never actually got to do anything with this money, I have to pay through the nose for it. To add insult to injury, I can't even claim it as an educational expense, at least not from what I can tell.

I am really stressed out about this. I didn't really have a place in my budget for huge taxes that come from spending TWO years as a VOLUNTEER!

Why don't adults write book reports?

This week each of my students had to hand in a portfolio of their strengths as a student. In their masterpieces they had to tell me what kind of assignments they enjoy the most and why. The response was both typical and overwhelming. Many of them couldn't think of a single assignment they enjoyed. :) A few told me that I was only steps away from being the perfect teacher...if I would just never give homework. But many of the more reflective 12 year-olds believed that book reports were the most fun and also the most interesting assignments.

Of course this got me thinking: why don't adults write book reports? I remember in middle and high school, the highest recommendation a book could receive was that your friends liked it. I remember when Laura Provinsal's mom bought her a series of Christian romances, we all read them. When Liz and I got hooked on Harry Potter, everyone wanted to borrow the books when we were done. My students are the same way- those who "hate" reading will pick up almost any book recommended by their peers.

I actually miss writing book reports. My solution to this is easy- the next time I assign one, I will simply make one of my own. Maybe I'm crazy, but I'm sure there are others out there who miss talking about a good read, or somehow presenting your book and creativity to a larger audience. I know I do.:)

Any suggestions for a good book to start with?

Resolutions

One of my resolutions this year was to write more. So far it's been a slow process, but between sporadic journaling, dusting off the books and revisiting the blogs, I'm doing my best to get on my writing feet again.

I was at a meeting last night of Catholic women sharing faith. By far the youngest at the event, I realized that part of the reason I struggle with making faith-filled friends is because we are so wary of really sharing our stories with one another. Last night I learned so much about myself from listening to two women answer a short series of questions about their own struggles and joys in faith. It made me think that there are so many stories out there, so many inspiring men and women who could teach us so much.

But these voices don't all have to have the wisdom that comes with age. I wish that my peers in their twenties would come and tell their stories too. What are your struggles with your faith? Where do you find joy? What is a scripture reading that inspires and guides your actions? What is a piece of wisdom you would share?

If you are reading this, please let me know your answer to at least one of these questions. I think you'd be surprised at how inspiring you really are. :)

Musings

There's a glorious anonymity about a blog no one reads anymore. It gives a space to hash out feelings in a semi-public catharsis that heals the disease of not listening or taking the chance to speak one's mind.

As I travel through the summer, I've come across some harsh realities in reading the writing of some people I really admire: my younger sisters. In the true experience of sibling rivalry, it pains me to know that they are more talented at writing than I am, as this was always the area where I prided myself on being different from my eight siblings. Keeping that entirely to one side, it also made me realize that living away from home has forged a gap that I'm not sure I know how to fix all the time. I learned that some of the things I valued so much about my last year at home ultimately led to my little sister being hurt by the people I trusted. I hate that. I loved running into her on campus my senior year, hearing the joy-filled "It's my sister!", meeting for lunch,introducing her to my favorite people: bosses, professors, friends. I feel like knowing that these people turned on her ruins that.

I feel like people flower in my absence, and I miss the bloom. My best friend is getting married, and I was never there to hear the little ins and outs of the relationship. They started dating after I left, so I never got to hear about the funny day-to-day happenings or watch as they fell in love. I know this sounds creepy, but I feel sometimes like she is marrying a stranger, and the longer I am gone the more true it feels. She's never even met the guy I'm dating. They will meet at her wedding.

I filled out forms for a race recently, and I had no emergency contact. No one geographically close enough to come if I needed help. I drove to and from a half-marathon alone, ran the race without anyone I knew.

This is more depressing than I meant it to be, but the reality of next year is hitting hard and fast. Another year without my family. Another year that they grow closer and I grow farther away. Another year to "make a difference" when I'm not sure I know how anymore.

School's out for the summer...almost!

I have one more contract day until I am done with being a PACE teacher. It's a little bit crazy to look back over the last two years and see how much I've grown and changed because of and sometimes in spite of the program. I am not the same girl that packed two suitcases two years ago and set off across the country to give back to her community. These last two years have been the hardest and lonliest of my life, but also the most rewarding and strengthening.

Stepping away from my family and friends has given me the opportunity to define myself, instead of letting their lives and experiences of me be who I am. For this reason it gets harder and harder to define "home", as I am caught between the community I have built for myself out here and the communities that were built for me back on the East Coast. The people here know the professional Emily, the one who struggles with caring too much about people who don't care for her. The people at home know the Emily who was quiet and reserved, and very conservative in her faith and viewpoints. I don't think I'm entirely either of these people any more.

I am packing up my bedroom and with it my memories of PACE. Steve's superman picture reminds me of the many times he bailed me out of interesting situations and our heart to heart conversations in the car. The photos of me and Kristin smiling at a party are a tribute to the girl who taught me it was okay to have fun and let loose every now and then. The stickers and school supplies from the other Kristin remind me of the teaching friends I learned so much from. That was one amazing year.

There is little in my room that speaks to this year. No photos, cards or knick-knacks to remind me of the people who have shared this second PACE experience with me. Maybe this is a good thing. It will make it easier to let go of the past and move forward into a brighter year next year. It will be hard to continue to work with the people who have made this year so difficult, so it is perhaps better to have few reminders of them.

My books are the friends that span both homes. both communities, both experiences. I will take these with me into my new life next year, a life outside of PACE.

Summertime, and the living is easy

So, most of you who are still reading this know that I have planned to stay out here for another year. With the job market the way it is, it seems like a more financially responsible decision than moving back east and seeing what scraps of a teaching job I can get. And I've survived the last two years pretty well, so I think that I should be good for at least one more. It is a little overwhelming to think of living out here on my own, though.
That being said, there are a lot of exciting possibilities that can happen if I stay out here. A third year of experience and a chance to brush up on my Spanish will make me more marketable if I decide to leave.
So here are some personal goals I have for this new year out west, feel free to hold me accountable:

1. Pass my Spanish Praxis.
2. Go to British Columbia.
3. Get certified in OR, WA and NJ.
4. Learn to drive manual.
5. Make two new Yakima friends.
6. Visit Crystal in Boston and Allison in Michigan.
7. See Ruthann more than twice a year.
8. Get a piece of writing published.
9. Run in more races (preferably short ones).
10. Be a better prepared teacher.

I'll revisit this list and let you know how it goes...also, stay posted for adventures in Yakima over the next two weeks.

Warm Weather

So last week I was sitting on the couch talking to David my roommate as I read through old blog entries from my first days out west, and I realized that I have lost a lot of my sense of humor and story telling ability in the course of the last two years. I am going to attempt to remedy that in this post as I share some of the funnier experiences I've had out here in Yakima in the last two weeks.

I went to my students' track meet last week, at a surprise request from one of my students. It didn't catch me off guard because I was asked, but because of who it was that asked me. A is one of my more reluctant Literature students. He comes from a strong math/science background and doesn't really see the need for humanities. But anyway, he asked me to go, so go I did, and spent the majority of the time leaning against a chain link fence freezing my brains out and learning cheers from the seventh graders. (These consisted of a repetition of "go for the gold", "push it", and "you gotta want it.") While I was standing there, minding my own business, I was shocked to feel a tiny hand hold mine and begin tugging. "Mom!" came a voice to my left, and I think that poor little girl got the shock of her life when it was my face she saw. She ran away screaming. Needless to say, the seventh graders thought this was hysterical.

In other very impressive news, last week I went out to the farm where Willie works and learned how to weld. I actually welded a piece of farm equipment. I know the story would have a little more oomph if I could remember the official name of whatever it was I welded, but suffice to say it was a lot of fun. Naturally I was terrified of the actually welder...it heats things up to 5000 degrees. I had to wear one of those cool masks and coveralls. And I apparently did a good enough job that Willie didn't have to go back and fix it.

This Friday Crystal comes out to visit! I am sososososo excited!