Year 9: Week 4 - The Shallow

     Tell me something girl Are you happy in this modern world?

As Bradley Cooper gently sang, almost like an invitation in the opening of “Shallow,” the song from his new film A Star Is Born, everything from the last day came over me. As I drove to school this morning, the power of emotion created an intensity in my body. I let the tears come thinking of something I said to one of my 3rd graders who told me that there was no point in crying, “tears aren’t a bad thing. They are very important. I’ve cried a lot in my past, and I have a lot of crying left to do in my life.”

Thursday was on my mind for two reasons. For the past two months I’ve been obsessed with the new version A Star Is Born.



I can’t quite articulate why. I’m not a huge fan of the Barbara Streisand version, and I think the lyrics to the theme, “Evergreen” are unintentionally comical, though the vocals are amazing.



Maybe it’s the power of Lady Gaga, but for sure it was the music.  Emotional, and beautiful, the portion of “Shallow,” featured in the trailer is something really unique, and powerful. I’ve been searching daily for information about the release of the soundtrack.  When it was announced that “Shallow” would be out Thursday, I got really excited.

The other thing that was going to happen Thursday was the hearing about the Kavanaugh featuring testimony from Dr. Ford.

It doesn’t feel right to say that I was looking forward to this event. Maybe anticipating is a better word. I’ve seen a lot of strength and bravery in my life, and I sensed what Dr. Ford was going to do was going to surpass my imagination, and fundamentally affect me in a way that I couldn’t anticipate.

     In all the good times, I find myself longing for change

Teaching yesterday felt strange. The energy of universe seemed to be tense, focused on Dr. Ford and Kavanaugh. I had a busy day, and I wasn’t in the position to watch the hearing live or even check in on the news. It was hard to stay focused and even though I was able to have a productive day, there was a tension in my body, a feeling in the air knowing that there was something important happening.

I wanted to take some action in my classes address the issues around this historical moment. I told myself that since I made so many clear and deliberate choices to have a feminist approach to my curriculum that I was doing enough. Every single song we have studied this year has been by a woman or had a version that was performed by women. In 5th grade we explored different versions of “Have You Ever Seen The Rain?” After reading my students’ observations of these videos. I was proud to see that many recognized the significance of the fact that one version was performed by a strong, powerful woman, Joan Jett, and favored this cover because of this fact.

As I went through the day, I couldn’t help but think more about my girls.  I made sure that I let them finish what they wanted to share and ensure that everyone gave them space to think and speak. I thought twice about how I addressed two girls who clearly weren’t paying attention, and were having a side-conversation.  Instead of walking by with a wave, I stopped, kneeled down and greeted a JK girl who waved to me.

When I got to my last 3rd grade class of the day. I felt conflicted. I was looking forward to leaving school so that I could hear Dr. Ford’s words, but I also felt thankful that I had one more class, one more excuse to not lean into what I knew would be difficult words to hear.

We had been listening to “Long Time Gone,” by the Dixie Chicks and using it as a movement activity in class. Using balls, the students created patterns outlining the meter, and we did some dancing with the balls as group.  Instead of showing a performance from when the song came out and they were embraced by the Country music community, I showed them a performance from their recent MMXVI tour:



I was fortunate to see a show from this tour live, and believe me, they were more than musicians, it was like being in the presence of superheroes.

For the other 3rd grade classes, when I showed the music video, I introduced the names of each member and talked about their instruments. For this class, at the end of this day I felt that I had to something more.

     I’m off the deep end watch as I dive in

You see this woman here? Her name is Natalie Maines. She’s not a big or tall person, she’s only a couple inches shorter than me, but she’s strong. We often think of strength as being able to lift something heavy, or having big muscles, but there’s a different kind a strength, a more important kind of strength.

Natalie has a huge voice, it’s loud, it’s a little brash, but it can also be gentle and kind. This ability is kind displays emotional strength. That’s one reason she’s one of my heroes. The other reason that I admire her is that she is strong enough to speak her mind and be herself.

There was a time when Natalie said something that a lot of people didn’t agree with, and people told her that she should be quiet, not have an opinion, and in very mean words to “shut up and sing.” 

Why didn’t people want her to speak? 

Because she is a woman, and some people are afraid of strong women.

That’s not right. 

No, it’s not. Some people who are weak, try to make others feel bad, and one way to do that is not letting them have a voice. Some people don’t think kids should have a voice, but they are wrong, your voice is so important.  Some people don’t think woman should speak up, and have a voice, and they are wrong.

Your experiences, your stories, are so important, and you all have a right to share them, and be heard. And we all should make sure that others know that we care about their stories. It takes strength to do these things, and Natalie is a powerful example of a person who even though is short like many of you and a woman, a weakness seen by some, has incredible strength and refuses not to be heard.

     I’ll never meet the ground

It didn’t come up easily. At times, I tripped over my words. I wanted to go somewhere with these students, but I knew I couldn’t go into all the details of the ordeal that Natalie went through simply by speaking out against a President.



There are times when you take a chance with your students. When you tap into feelings that are raw and thoughts that are unprocessed, you are taking a chance.  It’s a scary place to be in as a teacher.  I just wanted to show them the darkness, the sadness, but also wanted them to know that there was a light.

I wanted the boys to know that I was a man I admired women, and I wanted my girls to know that I see them, I value them, and that they have strength in them that I see in them.

I don’t what they got out of my talk, and showing the video, but I tried. It was difficult, but I knew, that Dr. Ford had done something far more courageous, so how could I not try in a small way to do something for my students?

     We’re far from the shallow now

As I began to drive to school this morning, the power of what I heard the night before still stuck with me. Dr. Ford’s extraordinary moment of courage and strength filled me with inspiration, while Kavanaugh’s pathetic dishonest, display or juvenile anger , brought me frustration, and sadness.

As Lady Gaga’s voice soared through “Shallow,” with a melody that was both primal and heartfelt, everything felt more powerful, more present, and more urgent.  I couldn’t understand these feelings and my tears, but I knew it was because of something significant. Driving to work, moving through space, along with this song became a journey to a different place in my mind, in my world, in our world.

We are in the deep end. We can’t go back to the safety of ignorance. We can only go deeper.  To stay afloat we have to work harder.  We don’t have a choice, we are in this new place, and everything has to change.

Everything.

Parenthood: Week 285 – Firsts And Batman

Firsts
It feels like we are running out of “firsts” with Ethan.

Now that we only have a little bit more than a month in the first year of Ethan’s life, new experiences seem to be running out. Yes, I know this is preposterous since there are many first for him beyond the first year, but there’s something about the first year of life, that cycle of the seasons and events that are really special.

The most recent first that we experienced with Ethan was going apple picking. Yes, it isn’t logical to spend an hour driving to a place where you pay a premium price for apples and the opportunity to do someone's else’s job. It’s a tradition that I experience first with my wife’s family, and while illogical, I have grown to love sharing this tradition with my boys.

It’s not like Ethan really understood what was going on or was actively involved with the apple picking activity, but it was a nice to share this tradition with him, Diana, Ollie and Buffy.

With the end of the first year on the horizon, reflection starts to set in and the journey that we’ve taken together in the past year comes to mind. While there were huge events that happened in the first year of Ollie's life (e.g. buying a house and moving in). The last year of our lives with Ethan wasn’t any less significant.

There will be time enough to process all that has happened. Right now more than anything I feel blessed to have Ethan in my life.

BATMAN
Ollie is really into The Lego Batman Movie. I saw this movie on a plane and was really impressed with it. I’ve been a Batman fan all my life. The latest films that featured Batman were clearly not intended for young kids so I was really glad to that this new Batman film was appropriate for kids Ollie’s age, and also fun for adults.

Last weekend Ollie got a double ear infection so it seemed as good time as any to watch The Lego Batman Movie with him. It was interesting to watch it with him. He didn’t really show much emotion when he was watching it. He was just taking it all in and processing it. I checked in with him a couple time to see if he wanted to keep watching, and he always replied with a soft, “yes.”

It was only after repeated viewings and much discussion did he start laughing at the jokes and express feelings of tension and worry that reflected the events of the film.

Ollie’s officially hooked. I got him a book about the film, he looks at constantly. He wants to talk about it all of the time, and I’m excited to share my love of Batman with Ollie. I’m grateful that somebody remembered that most of all superheroes should be for kids, and that superhero films should be fun.

Year 9: Week 3 - The High Five

He had to go to the bathroom.  So his teacher held his hand and walked him out of the gym.

He was seated along with the rest of our student body, junior kindergarteners through senior high school students. Along with more than nine hundred students along with the family of seniors sitting in the bleachers, the little boy had been listening to the principal speak along with the rest of the school community, when he realized that he had to go.

Sitting in the far corner of the gym along with the other junior kindergarteners, the teacher had to walk the boy through the aisle around the crowd between the students and the families in the bleachers. As the principal continued his speech, the boy walked through the crowd, one hand holding his teacher’s hand, and the other hand waving to be people as he walked.

Teachers standing around the edge of the crowd waved back as he smiled and waved to them. Then as he walked by students, they saw him and waved back too. Everyone who waved had to balance the need to be respectful to the principal as he spoke, and the need to make this little boy, one of the youngest people in our community, feel welcome, and seen. So, with quiet smiles and small waves, everyone the boy waved to responded with smiles and waves.

As he exited the gym, I refocused on the principal’s speech. A couple minutes later my attention was pulled away again from the principal, and I saw the teacher holding the little boy’s hand walking back into the gym.

As he walked, just like before, he waved and smiled, and the people in the crowd smiled back and waved back at him. There was something so magical in that boys smile. He was so full of hope, and optimism. It was the perfect manifestation of the spirit of community that the principal was describing in his speech.

Standing against the wall with the other teachers, I turned to teacher to me left, and we exchanged looks of joy, having just said hello to this boy again. I took a small step forward so I could continue to watch him as the boy exchange waves to the other teachers.

As the boy got to the end of the line of teachers, one of the teachers leaned off of the wall. The little boy looked up at him in awe like he was seeing Prince T’Challa in the flesh. The teacher reached out, and with smooth confidence and love gave the boy a high five. The boys smile got even bigger as he continued walking with his teacher and found his seat with the rest of the class.

The boy was shown love as he was greeted by all of these people in the gym who waved and smiled back to him.  And boy saw something more, felt something deeper when that teacher reached out to him. He saw a Black man, proud and strong, reaching out to him, a Black boy. In that moment, the teacher expressed to that boy: “I see you, I got you, I’m there for you, and we got this.”

He had something in that moment that white children take for granted, a vision of themselves, what they could be in the adults in their school community. In that moment I thought about my first Asian teacher, the impact that she had on me. If it wasn’t for her work, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with writing, and may not have chosen to be teacher.

Maybe you had to be there to understand, but there was something special in that moment, something important.  I'm not saying that you have to be the same race as as student to be an effective.  But our students need to see people of their own race in a school community as a confirmation of their place, their role, and their importance in a school.     

Parenthood: Week 284 - Daddy

More than a thousand students have called me “Mr. Tang.” Many refer to me as “Kingsley,” and my wife, family and close friends know me as “Kings.” There is only one person who calls me “daddy.”

Ollie, my eldest son calling me “daddy,” is something I don’t think about a lot. It’s part of the normal soundtrack of my life.  However, some reason last week, when I heard Ollie calling “daddy,” looking for me, something hit me.

There’s a singularity in the word “daddy,” for most people, and even if there isn’t, if there is someone who has two dads, that’s still a very special way to call someone. We associate many things with titles, and when these titles are limited to only a few people, that association, that meaning is deeper, and special.

When I think of the word “dad,” I think of my father. As I get older, I feel more and more comfort and gratitude being able to say that word and have someone who has been so important in my life turn and acknowledge me as a response to that title. My dad doesn’t have that anymore, and even though his role as my dad is so different than it used to be, he’s still there for me, he’s still my dad. In that title, rest so much of who I am, and what I need in this world. I still seek his affirmation, even though he is gracious and openly proud of me. He’s my dad, and it’s hard sometimes living across the country from him.

That’s what hit me the other day. I was only a room away when Ollie said “daddy,” and I was able to be there for him.  It's a blessing and privilege to be there for my son. I wish there was more time with him, but we do the best we can. Being there for your child physically, emotionally, and mentally is difficult sometimes, but it’s what we do, it’s how we earn that title.

The title of “daddy” is something you get from your child and is something that only a child can grant upon a father. It’s a title that can mean so much good or bad. It’s a responsibility, a never-ending task, and an opportunity to change a person’s world.

In the world I envision for my children where gender roles are demolished, and expressions of masculinity are diverse and inclusive, what does it mean to be a “daddy?” Whatever it means to the child when they think of a parent that loves them. Every parent has different styles and ways of showing and receiving love. In this plurality the meaning of the term “daddy,” is  not defined by baseball games, it’s defined as the person who is there. The title, while meaningful, is less important than the meaning behind the title, the feeling of love, and security that only a loving parent can provide for their children.

Ethan hasn’t called me “daddy,” yet, but I will make sure to thank him when he does, and I will promise to him to continue to earn that title from my special little one.

Year 9: Week 2 - Getting To Know Them

What our students can learn, what they can achieve is sometimes more determined by our skills as a teacher more than anything else.

After nine years teaching at this school, and thirteen years in the profession, I’m better at certain parts of my craft. This has meant that my lessons are more efficient. This phenomenon puts a teachers’ mind in an interesting place. Now that things are going smoother, what do you do with this class time and mental energy?

My instinct is to do more.

This makes sense to a point. There are limits to what students can learn in a certain period of time. Even if a group of students can learn a certain amount of music in a period of time, that doesn’t mean they should. Maybe it’s taking the time to go deeper into lyrics and provide more reflection time is the path to go as opposed to doing more songs.

Over the past couple years, I’ve tried to strike the balance of adding experiences to my students’ experience while not overloading them, as well as my own capacity as a teacher. It’s strange, I don’t see myself as an ambitious person. However, I do push myself and my community to higher levels because we can, we should, and our students need this from us.

I enjoy the recognition that comes when my students perform well, but more than I enjoy the momentum that comes with that positive performance. This means that there are less people saying no to me, more people willing to help me out, and more opportunities to do the work. That’s what I strive for more than anything else, working towards a vision that is a manifestation of our school’s mission.

There are limits to everything. I don’t think I’ve quite hit my limit with all that I take on at this school, but at times I’ve gotten close. I worry at times, but I am comforted knowing that I can cut back and that even though all of the facets of my job are important, if I drop out of a committee, things will go on just fine without me.

The rush of madness that envelopes the beginning of the school year has seemed to calm down. There’s still a lot to do, but things feel less frantic. Right now, being in class feels like an escape from the stress of the other work around my role here at this school. I’ve focused more on getting to know my students more than anything else this start of the school year and that’s feels pretty good.

Maybe that’s what I should do more of this year, get to know my kids better. They are amazing, people, and really more than any performances, sharing time with them and getting to know them really is one of the best parts of this job.

Parenthood: Week 283 - Apple --> Tree

I am not very good in large social gatherings. I’m fine in a medium sized group of good friends (10-15 people), even better in a small group of five close people. Drop me in a large group of people during a social gathering, a wedding, a fund-raiser where I do not know very many people there, and I really struggle. I have a hard time knowing how to enter and exit conversations, I feel anxiety over how to move through a room, and I don’t really know how to handle talking over loud music or crowd noise.

In these situations, I often find myself talking to my wife, retreating to a quiet area outside near a bathroom to take a break. I guess it’s not a big surprise that when Ollie is at a birthday party with a large group of people, sometimes he prefers to play by himself.

The whole idea of the “apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” is that people’s behavior, temperament, and personality can be explained and understood in the context of their parents. Manifestations of this can be both a wonderfully reassuring thought, and also a sad, almost tragic reflection.

I don’t believe that we are destined to be our parents, however we can’t escape the reality of our parents influence. Like racial bias, the influence of our parents will never leave us, even though we may grow to acknowledge and deal with this influence in a more productive way.

As a father, I hope that my kids demonstrate attributes I like about myself, but also are not burdened with parts of my personality that have caused me anxiety. I thought for a time when Ollie was a baby waving a smiling at every person he met and came across that my inability to handle certain social situations would not be passed on to Ollie.

As Ollie got older, it became clear that the same reserved manner that is characterized as “shy,” was exhibited by Ollie. Somehow, I feel responsible, because it’s my genes, my parenting that put him in a situation where he is dealing with the same challenges I am socially. I don’t need my sons to help me process my insecurity. I get no comfort from the idea that I am better than them. I want nothing more for them to be better than me, and to teach me how to be a better human being, which in many ways the already have.

The reality, not the emotional experience of parenting, is that I cannot take responsibility for my children’s personality. It is my responsibility to help them get to know who they are and help them understand how to be their genuine selves, while being an empathetic and caring member of society.

I’m not saying that I did not have a influence of the formation of my children’s personality, but at this point with a five-year-old and a 10-month-old, who I currently have strapped on to me with a baby carrier, trying to figure out how my past actions as a parent have led to my child being “shy,” is an unproductive exercise fraught with unnecessary guilt, and theories of correlations that can probably never be proven to be true.

Learning to know and love yourself is embracing the parts of you that you do not love, parts that cause you anxiety and stress. Loving your child is no different. As much as our children mirror ourselves, they are not our reflections. Sometimes we want them to be, but this is flawed because it brings us to a place where reflections of our own perceived flaws in our children quickly overcome any pride of success that we mistakenly take credit for in our children.

Ollie is like me. We both struggle with social stuff. We have that in common. And that’s something I get about him that other may not, and while that may seem like a flaw, I’m glad I share this with him so he understands it’s not something that he should feel shame about.

I know that part of me is with my son, but there's more than just me.  There's my wife, there's his ancestors who died in Auschwitz, and resisted the Japanese in the Pacific.  He may be an apple but it's more than just from a tree.  It's part of an incredible forrest.     

Year 9: Week 1 - Same Sex Marriage, And Choosing To Be A Minority, And Positionality

This is how it began...

With my 3rd graders, I started the class with a movement activity with Brandi Carlile’s “Dreams.” It was a fun way to do some pre-assessment, and work together as a class. After we worked through the song, I out of this picture of Brandi with her family backstage at the Ellen show.

I introduced her wife and kids. One 3rd grader exclaimed, “she’s a married to a woman.” “Yes, she is. Brandi identifies as lesbian,” I replied. Other students nodded in acknowledgement and we moved on with the lesson. Another class didn’t say anything when I showed the picture, it accepted how her family. This was a great feeling knowing that these students had done work around diversity in families so that this felt normal to them.

After teaching my 5th graders the chorus to “Wagon Wheel,” I told them a story.

A couple years ago, I had the opportunity to go to an Adele concert. A friend of mine warned me that if I went I would be one of the few men in that audience. This made me think. Did I really want to be in a space when I would be in the minority? Well, I love her music, so why not? So I went, and yes, the vast majority of people there were woman. It felt a little strange at first sitting in a sea of women but as the concert started, it didn’t seem to matter that I was one of the few men, and I had a great time.

I explained that Darius Rucker made a similar choice when he made a country music album, entering a world when he knew he would be one of the few African-Americans. I asked my students to think of a time when they may have done this, like joining in a game at recess as a girl when only boys were playing. Planting seeds for later conversations about race and identity, we started our journey together with this important work.

With both grades I taught the students a dance to go along with Aretha Franklin’s “Think.” We talked about how this song had other layers of meaning and when she exclaimed “freedom,” it was about more than her own personal life.

In 8th grade, I repeated my lesson I did last year on musical identity. I added a part about positionality, based on the quote, “Where we stand in relation to others shapes what we can see.” by Oslem & DiAngelo. I gave them examples of how parts of my identity help me see things that others may not. A couple of students understood this concept. One of them talked about how she didn’t see upperclassmen as intimidating because she was a younger sibling. Then I hinted at the opposite piece of this idea, what we don’t see because of our positionality.

There was a lot going on this week. There was an assembly I was involved in organizing and a lot of little tasks as department chair. But it all came together and I felt much more prepared for these opening classes than I did last year.

 It was a good start.

Parenthood: Week 282 - Scratches On The Neck

Babies can hurt, literally.

These little humans have little to know idea of how their actions can physically affect others around them. To be a parent is to know what it’s like to be head-butted, kicked in the groin, bit, and scratched by this little baby that you love completely. Babies can cause real damage, they can break skin, and as they wildly swing their hands around, whatever they are holding can bruise on impact. Part of what makes these injuries worse is the fact that most of the time you aren’t prepared for what’s coming to you.

For those of you who think I’m exaggerating, I’m not. This is a very real thing that is sometimes only a minor annoyance and other times can be very challenging to deal with.

When a baby starts eating solid foods, sometimes they stick too much food in their mouths. This requires you to reach into their mouth with your finger in a hook shape and pull the food out. When you see that look on the face of a baby who looks like they are about to choke, you don’t really have time to hesitate, you just have to go for it, knowing that the baby is in chewing mode. Even when a baby only has a couple teeth, those teeth can be really sharp. You just do it, and you just get in and our as soon as possible. Neither Ollie or Ethan broke skin when I’ve done this for them, but I have a friend who did experience a bite so hard that skin did tear.

Being a dog owner prepared me for this task. Even now, I have to pry open Buffy’s jaws and reach into her mouth to try to grab random food she finds on the street like an old pizza crust. Like a baby, she doesn’t really cooperate and that feeling of teeth pushing into your fingers can be scary.

You do this because you care. You reach into the jaws of another living thing, knowing that you will likely feel pain, because in that moment it could make a huge difference. The cost/benefit math isn’t hard to balance in your mind, but that doesn’t mean that the pain is nonexistent.

Ethan has introduced a whole different kind of baby injury into my life. Little ones have adorable hands with the smallest little fingernails…that are razor sharp. And they are not easy to cut. Even with the Piyo nail scissors which are amazing when it comes to cutting baby fingernails, it’s challenging. Babies don’t like having their fingers held still unless they are asleep, and in that case, it’s often too dark to see the nails clearly to know how deep to cut. You really don’t want to nick the tip of a babies finger. I’ve done it, and even though it’s not that big of a deal, it makes you feel like a horrible parent and the tears and screams of the baby don’t help the situation.

Ethan does this thing when I’m cradling him, holding him against my upright, or have him in the baby carrier where he reaches up to grab onto something. Sometimes he grabs my necklace, other times he grabs my shirt collar, other times he just grabs, and grabs, and grabs. In all of these instances there are fingernails against skin.

I’ve done various things to deal with this. Sometimes it’s wearing a scarf, other times it’s trying to intercept his little fingers so he grabs my hand instead of my neck, but nothing quite works. Why don’t I cut his fingernails?

Well, I do and it only helps so much.

You got a crying baby who wants nothing but to be picked up and cradled, but you know that there will be pain involved. So last night like many other times, I picked him up and cradled him, and even though he was getting sleep, he was still clawing at my neck, and I tried to just deal with this, but I couldn’t. I had to put him down, which shocked him all the way up awake, which cased screaming as I grabbed the fingernail scissors.

Oh, the screams while I held him tight and each finger firmly. I wasn’t torturing him, but it sure sounded like I did from his reactions. Eventually I did get his fingernails cut, it helped slightly, and by the time, he was so exhausted from screaming his arms finally lay still and calm at his sides.

Parenting is leaning into the pain, sucking it up, and dealing with it. I’ll never forget Ollie as a baby sleeping in my lap on a plane. He thought I was Diana and tried to latch to nurse on my chest as he slept. Somehow he knew where my nipple was under my shirt, and I don’t know how I was able to keep in any expression of pain so he wouldn’t wake up, but I did. You know that cute thing when babies reach in your mouth? Will Ethan was doing that and managed the scratch the skin on the inside of my lower jaw, ouch.

Most of this summer my neck has raw and has been covered in scratches.  I'm not sharing this to be some kind of martyr.  I mean I could invest in turtle-necks.  No one forced me to be a parent.  What I'm trying to express is the condition of being parent, the pain that we lean into, and what we do for our kids. 

There will be a time when Ethan understands how not to harm me physically but there will other things that he will do that will be challenging to deal with.  The only way to handle it is to lean into it.  Not hugging your kid, and not loving your kid isn't an option.  So you take all that comes with it. 

Scratches do heal though and somewhere between giggles and cuddles, present pain becomes a distant memory.