Speaking of time well spent… this was a packed weekend. It’s always good when my mom sends me cookies in the mail and calls to tell me that I must have been upset in my recent blog entry because I ended a sentence in a preposition.

It was also nice that my father sent me a card in the mail and called to tell me that the two picture frames he has designated for my family are STILL EMPTY.

Me: Well, with my new camera I’ll be able to…

Dad: Uh huh. Meanwhile, I’ve got these two empty frames…

Me: Yes, Daddy.

Dad: And no new family pictures…

Me: Yes, Daddy.

This went on for some time. Constantly interrupting each other. Oy.

Movies We Saw and Some We Slept To
Derailed was a yawner for sure, but I managed to prop open my eyes late last night and watched it. Billed as a "thriller/drama" it was a little shy on the "thriller" aspect. Mostly, it turned our stomachs to see how easily they fall into an affair. It was predictable in most regards but had one of the best bad guys I’ve seen in a long time. Finally FINALLY I can say I’ve seen This Is Spinal Tap. No more Nigel Tufnel jokes will go by without me saying, "Who’s he?" and getting looks of disgust.

I’ve seen it. Back off now.

And yes, it was hilarious, but I’ll follow Christopher Guest (it’s nice to see such an updated picture for that link) to the ends of the earth if he asks. His mockumentaries are a tough act to follow. Among other favorites of his: Waiting for Guffman, Best in Show, A Mighty Wind, and of course, The Princess Bride.

We also spent an evening at the drive-in which is always fun. Ken popped a huge batch of Whirley-pop popcorn (worth every penny - we love it!) and we took the kids to see Ice Age: The Meltdown, a satisfying follow up to the first film. We sometimes felt like we giggled more than the kids.

Puchases We Will Need To Sell Body Parts For

We live on three-quarters of an acre which necessitates a riding lawn mower which we’ve opted not to purchase since the last one broke a few years ago. It’s worth it to make a 3 hour experience turn into a 30 minute job, so Ken has a new toy. And it only took 20 minutes of having it out on the lawn before he even got it started to have bird poop on it.

Good times.

Songs We Boogied To and Had Neighbors Questioning Our Parenting Skills Since The Windows and Doors Were Open

Having music on while I work is a must, be it cleaning or studying, so when Ken caught me dancing in the kitchen to "Jump in the Line" by Harry Belafonte, he knew what kind of day it was going to be. Luckily for me, the whole family joined me in the living room later while the neighbors came over to check out the new lawn mower.

It bears mentioning that the living room windows and curtains were open at the time.

Our new favorite, however, is "No Sleep Tonight" * by The Faders. Let me tell you, Living Room Moshpit is way underrated.

Unfortunately, Morgan has an inability to execute any dance move more advanced that a side-to-side two step, but there’s a punk rocker lurking below the surface with that kid. Through this, I exhibit an uncontrollable twitch which is a dead giveaway of my disappointment in his lack of rhythm, so I’m going to encourage the punk rocker bit. That’s just mostly jumping around, right? Well, then he’s got that down pat.

Mason, on the other hand, quit dancing early on. Let’s face it. He’s 14. He doesn’t want to try any high-risk behaviour like smiling in public.

He’s 14 and good at it.

Also heard at the Mocha Discotheque this weekend are older tunes ("Town Called Malice" by The Jam and "One Line" by PJ Harvey) as well as some new discoveries worth a listen: "Good Woman Down"* by Mary J. Blige "Feeling Good" by Nina Simone and my new personal favorite, "Chicago" by Sufjan Stevens.

In my quest to be linkalicious, I didn’t want to give too much away and have readers go there, come back here, go there, etc… so you may visit here to see the photo essay that complements this entry.

Thanks to Elizabeth who featured me this week! I’ve neglected to mention that and I’m so sorry! She was so sweet to do that. Here’s the link to her "guestroom" where I stayed.

Does it seem like I’m always addressing that?

Today, one of them came to me to talk about a strange, awkward
situation she found herself in. She loves her students and has a good
handle on when to apply pressure and when to back off. A certain
student, a volatile girl whom we both handle with kid gloves, was in
trouble with another adult and Teacher A (no one up there is named
Ashley or Angie or Agnes, so this is safe) got involved by monitoring
the situation. I’m glad she did and she has every right to do so as a
teacher. I applaud her efforts to want to know what’s happening. Girl A
was being calmed down by a Black staff member and Teacher A came in to
bring her back to class. It is her firm belief that this child should
not roam the halls and be pampered in the office, so she was right to
usher her back into a place of learning.

In an effort to bolster Girl A and support her, this Black staff member
looked at Girl A and said, "Remember. Beautiful Black. Beautiful Black."

This is where the discomfort came in. Teacher A is white and came to
ask me what that meant. I must confess. I do not know. I can only
wonder if she was trying to instill pride in this girl who has such low
self-esteem and struggles with school.

Was she trying to show her that no matter what happened, she was still
a beautiful person? That she was beautiful outside? Inside? That is was
her blackness that was beautiful?

I knew what was coming next from Teacher A. She immediately responded
with a common defense: What if I said that to a White child?

Beautiful White. Beautiful White.

It is often the case as a mulatto that I’m a safe person to ask about
these things. More so, it is the case that I’m safe because I’m open to listening and learning and that stradling the fence on issues is just a place where I seem to find myself most often.

But I can’t explain every racial issue to every person who asks.

Today I had no answer and I didn’t address any of it with anyone else
because Teacher A just came to talk and I listened. I can’t support the
statement because I wouldn’t use the statement. Ever.

But I’ll admit something I said in a terrible situation when a parent
accused me of being racist when her son didn’t get the grade she wanted
for him. Her hostile phone calls turned to a confrontation at my school
where she demanded a meeting with just me and her and her son. She
berated me and argued with my principal at the time about my not
agreeing to be in a room alone with her (I was in my mid-20’s and I at
least knew that much as a young teacher). He supported me by staying in
the room and it was utterly ridiculous. She wanted him to have
something which he did not earn.

When I realized this wasn’t going anywhere I looked at my principal and asked, "Are you telling me I have to change his grade?"

"No. I’m not. I’m here because you wanted me to be here."

"Good. Then I’m not changing his grade."

After that, I looked past her at her son who was brave when his angry
mother was defending him, but was quiet and respectful in the classroom
up until that day and never again.

"I’m very sorry for this. I’m very sorry that your mother is teaching
you this awful lesson. That to be Black means you can be lazy and get
things which you do not earn. Because that has no bearing to what you can expect in real life AT ALL."

That was not a beautiful day for me. I never felt worse when dealing
with a parent. I wasn’t Beautiful Black or Beautiful White or Beautiful
Anything that day.