If you are friend of mine, you’ve heard me complain about Ethan, my 2-year-old.
I try not to complain about my children too much. They are a blessing; they have enriched my life tremendously and I don’t feel that they are a burden. Yes, they make my life more difficult, but every night before I go to sleep, and look back at my day, the love and meaning the bring to my life is what resonates from the day, not the challenges. I love being a father. Besides being a husband, it’s the greatest role I’ve taken in my life, and I am forever grateful to my wife for making this all possible.
The thing that you need to understand about Ethan is that the things that are challenging about him are the things that make him wonderful now, and will help him be an incredible adult.
Ethan is very loud, and there’s no ramping up to this volume. He just goes there immediately. If he wants milk, and he doesn’t get it right after he asks for it, then he’s screaming at me. It’s like he thinks I’m some magical short-order chef that can make milk appear instantaneously.
I am glad that Ethan has no problem advocating for himself. I was that child who would be too shy to ask for a cupcake at birthday party, and then I wouldn’t get one. It wasn’t until graduate school where I truly gained the confidence to speak for myself and self-advocate. Ethan is already there. I’ve heard him scream for a cupcake at a birthday party, (and so did everyone else at that party). I’m excited to see how this evolves into an ability to self-advocate.
If Ethan could design his perfect day it would include as much physical contact as possible. For approximately half the day he would be held by someone. Watching television would be done in someone’s lap and meal times would be social, with pauses to hold hands. Naps would be done with physical contact and so would sleeping through night. You know how some people like to cuddle as they go to sleep and then separate. Ollie is like that. Ethan isn’t, he wants to cuddle the ENTIRE NIGHT.
Yes, this is annoying, and I get cuddling fatigue. Putting these feelings aside, this is one of the most wonderful things about Ethan. Touching others is a way that he understands the world and a way that he knows that he can bring comfort and joy to himself and also others.
Today, Ethan was playing with some toys on the floor. I put down his baby brother Lucas on a blanket in another part of the room. When Lucas started crying, Ethan put his toys down and lay down next to Ethan and cuddled close him, which actually calmed Lucas down. It was beautiful. This instinct to feel closeness to others and understand physicality as a way to communicate will serve him well as he learns how to express himself and connect with others.
Ethan’s sometimes overly goofy at the dinner table, but this desire to make people smile will help him through tense situations. He is stubborn and refuses to give up about silly little thinks, and when he’s older he will be stubborn about important stuff. And Ethan sometimes wants to read the same book over and over, and this fascination with art will serve him well and he works to understand what it means to be human.
This is what is means to love your child and see what annoys you about them as assets to cherish and nurture. Yes, Ethan is tough at times, and what makes him difficult is also what makes him wonderful now, and in the future.
Showing posts with label 2000s. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2000s. Show all posts
Monday, May 11, 2020
Friday, January 31, 2020
Year 10: Week 20 – The Outside In
Teachers are in the business of creating relationships. Yes, I teach music, however the effectiveness of the students' education is reliant on us having a positive relationship built on trust, respect, and service.
In order to have a meaningful relationship with students as with any other people in our lives we have to reveal parts of ourselves, and communicate with honesty while being genuine. Unlike social relationships, teachers have to maintain a safe and appropriate relationship with their students, which means that we have be calculating and deliberate about what we share our lives outside the classroom into our teaching.
At this point in my career it isn’t hard to know what to bring into my classroom, but that doesn’t mean that it’s easy to do what I know is right.
Coming back from my child-rearing leave, all of my students wanted to see pictures of my new baby, Lucas. I realized that I hadn’t shared with my students this year about my family. I used to be more deliberate about doing this towards the beginning of the year, but for some reason, I didn’t pause to take care of this recently. So I made a little slide show and it’s been really fun sharing some pictures and videos of my children to my students.
Earlier in the year, a song that I loved “Crowded Table,” fit into our curriculum, so I was able to genuinely teach a song that I loved. My curricular focus is generally not based on teaching music that I love, but rather teaching music that is effective and meaningful to my students. Once in a while music I love outside of class can become music I teach, but that’s rare.
There have been times when things I experienced in my life I can bring in and talk about like when David Bowie died. I taught my students a lesson about his work, his fashion and music and how he influence my life and my expression of masculinity. When my maternal grandmother passed away, I told my students about her and even shared some pictures from my trip to Taiwan.
Then there are things that happen in our lives that we can’t talk to our kids about, and we have to compartmentalize. There’s feeling about current events that put us in moods that are not fair to show students. There are stresses from personal lives that we need to make sure that we don’t project onto our students. And here are things that we know about “behind the scenes” at school that students cannot know, but we can’t but think about when we see their eyes.
This is exhausting, this act, this effort, we make to present ourselves in a way that isn’t genuinely how we feel. It seems like a contradiction since we should be genuine with our students, but we can’t always be that. Even if we faking smiles, what we can always make genuine is our expression of care for our students and our desire for them to be better. Sometimes, sometimes, this genuine care, focusing on our students in the moment can make us feel better about all of the baggage that we bring.
Other times, it’s simply exhausting like holding up a wall. It's in this feeling that I find myself needing to take care of myself and let myself process all that is going on in my life.
Teacher's can't keep walls up forever, so sometimes we need to focus more on taking care of ourselves, so we can take care of our students.
In order to have a meaningful relationship with students as with any other people in our lives we have to reveal parts of ourselves, and communicate with honesty while being genuine. Unlike social relationships, teachers have to maintain a safe and appropriate relationship with their students, which means that we have be calculating and deliberate about what we share our lives outside the classroom into our teaching.
At this point in my career it isn’t hard to know what to bring into my classroom, but that doesn’t mean that it’s easy to do what I know is right.
Coming back from my child-rearing leave, all of my students wanted to see pictures of my new baby, Lucas. I realized that I hadn’t shared with my students this year about my family. I used to be more deliberate about doing this towards the beginning of the year, but for some reason, I didn’t pause to take care of this recently. So I made a little slide show and it’s been really fun sharing some pictures and videos of my children to my students.
Earlier in the year, a song that I loved “Crowded Table,” fit into our curriculum, so I was able to genuinely teach a song that I loved. My curricular focus is generally not based on teaching music that I love, but rather teaching music that is effective and meaningful to my students. Once in a while music I love outside of class can become music I teach, but that’s rare.
There have been times when things I experienced in my life I can bring in and talk about like when David Bowie died. I taught my students a lesson about his work, his fashion and music and how he influence my life and my expression of masculinity. When my maternal grandmother passed away, I told my students about her and even shared some pictures from my trip to Taiwan.
Then there are things that happen in our lives that we can’t talk to our kids about, and we have to compartmentalize. There’s feeling about current events that put us in moods that are not fair to show students. There are stresses from personal lives that we need to make sure that we don’t project onto our students. And here are things that we know about “behind the scenes” at school that students cannot know, but we can’t but think about when we see their eyes.
This is exhausting, this act, this effort, we make to present ourselves in a way that isn’t genuinely how we feel. It seems like a contradiction since we should be genuine with our students, but we can’t always be that. Even if we faking smiles, what we can always make genuine is our expression of care for our students and our desire for them to be better. Sometimes, sometimes, this genuine care, focusing on our students in the moment can make us feel better about all of the baggage that we bring.
Other times, it’s simply exhausting like holding up a wall. It's in this feeling that I find myself needing to take care of myself and let myself process all that is going on in my life.
Teacher's can't keep walls up forever, so sometimes we need to focus more on taking care of ourselves, so we can take care of our students.
Friday, August 18, 2017
Frat Boy: Kerry - Part 2
Kerry was quick to tell me when I was being silly, annoying, or overdramatic. She also never hesitated to tell me when she felt like being by herself, and wanted space from me. While these words stung at times, I grew to appreciate her honestly. As fast as she was to tell me these things, she was even faster when defending me. She always had my back and never hesitated to defend me fiercely to anyone.
Almost every day of the school year, we chatted over instant messenger (online text messaging), and shared meals together. We went to concerts together, went out to eat, and partied together. In the social group that was my family in college, Kerry was one of my closest sisters. She didn’t care about the fact that our relationship was unconventional, a college girl hanging out with a guy who was two years younger, a different major, and a different race. If people ever said anything to her about it, she never let on. I’m grateful to her that she valued our friendship more than social conventions, and the norms that in our society that too often pull people apart.
Kerry started going out with Josh before I met her. I knew who he was through Kerry and because he was in marching band with us. Josh soon became closer to me when we both pledged PMA and became pledge brothers. As this pledge class of about a dozen guys went through the process of becoming full members we all became closer and became to know each other as fraternity brothers. (follow these link for more about the pledge process part 1, part 2).
The pledge process is about understanding the values of the fraternity. Brotherhood was a value that was often discussed and talked about and one saying that got thrown around was “bros before hos.” This was a crude way to express that the bond between brothers was more important than relationships with girls. There was this idea that girlfriends were short-term (which was often true, but not always) and brotherhood was a bond that lasted a lifetime (which was often not true, but sometimes proved to be real).
There was an awkwardness being friends with women who were going out with my fraternity brothers. Many of the girls my frat brothers went out with were good friends of mine. I heard things about these guys from my female friends, which proved for some awkward encounters. Josh had a sense of this. Whenever, he and Kerry had a fight, I would hear about it from Kerry and Josh knew about this. However, beyond a tacit acknowledgement, we didn’t really talk about his relationship with Kerry . . . until the break-up.
If was different when I saw Josh at the next at a fraternity event. When he saw me, he asked me how Kerry was doing. I responded angrily, “how do you think she is doing?” I chastised him for not having the guts to break up with her in person. This was the start of a series of encounters when I would either ignore him or express anger to him for breaking-up with Kerry.
Just when this feeling was beginning to ebb, I found out the rest of the story.
Almost every day of the school year, we chatted over instant messenger (online text messaging), and shared meals together. We went to concerts together, went out to eat, and partied together. In the social group that was my family in college, Kerry was one of my closest sisters. She didn’t care about the fact that our relationship was unconventional, a college girl hanging out with a guy who was two years younger, a different major, and a different race. If people ever said anything to her about it, she never let on. I’m grateful to her that she valued our friendship more than social conventions, and the norms that in our society that too often pull people apart.
Kerry started going out with Josh before I met her. I knew who he was through Kerry and because he was in marching band with us. Josh soon became closer to me when we both pledged PMA and became pledge brothers. As this pledge class of about a dozen guys went through the process of becoming full members we all became closer and became to know each other as fraternity brothers. (follow these link for more about the pledge process part 1, part 2).
The pledge process is about understanding the values of the fraternity. Brotherhood was a value that was often discussed and talked about and one saying that got thrown around was “bros before hos.” This was a crude way to express that the bond between brothers was more important than relationships with girls. There was this idea that girlfriends were short-term (which was often true, but not always) and brotherhood was a bond that lasted a lifetime (which was often not true, but sometimes proved to be real).
There was an awkwardness being friends with women who were going out with my fraternity brothers. Many of the girls my frat brothers went out with were good friends of mine. I heard things about these guys from my female friends, which proved for some awkward encounters. Josh had a sense of this. Whenever, he and Kerry had a fight, I would hear about it from Kerry and Josh knew about this. However, beyond a tacit acknowledgement, we didn’t really talk about his relationship with Kerry . . . until the break-up.
If was different when I saw Josh at the next at a fraternity event. When he saw me, he asked me how Kerry was doing. I responded angrily, “how do you think she is doing?” I chastised him for not having the guts to break up with her in person. This was the start of a series of encounters when I would either ignore him or express anger to him for breaking-up with Kerry.
Just when this feeling was beginning to ebb, I found out the rest of the story.
Wednesday, July 20, 2016
Monday, July 4, 2016
Parenthood: Week 159 - Going To The Movies
Ollie went to the movie theater for the first time to watch Finding Dory. We had tried to watch Finding Nemo with Ollie a couple months ago, but he really wasn’t interested. Then he watched this film at school with his class and he came home very excited about the film. His favorite character was the stingray, Mr. Ray. It took us a couple days to decipher his singing as the song that Mr. Ray uses to teacher about the different zones in the ocean. We like to think that Ollie likes Mr. Ray because he’s a teacher just like mommy and daddy, but it’s probably because of the way that he sings flies through the water.
The day before we went, we told Ollie that we were going to go see Finding Dory, which was going to be like Finding Nemo. We explained to Ollie that we were going to go “tomorrow.” Ollie then spent the remainder of the day trying to figure what “tomorrow” meant. An hour would pass and he would ask if it was tomorrow yet. Eventually he understood that tomorrow was going to be when he woke up the following morning. This worked out fine until the next morning when we had to explain that we were going to go to the movie in a couple hours, which initially didn’t make sense to Ollie.
We talked about how the movie theater was going to be dark, which in Ollie’s head meant that it was nighttime. We explained what Ollie could do if he felt scared and that if he need to go to the bathroom or wanted to leave early, he could ask us at any time. We also went over how he needed to be quiet during the movie.
Ollie did really well in the movie theater. He got annoyed and impatient with the half an hour of movie trailers before the film (which annoyed us as well). For the first part of the film, Ollie stayed in his own seat and then later switched to Diana’s lap. Finding Dory wasn’t a bad film for Ollie to watch, but it wasn’t perfect. It was a little bit too long and a little bit too dark. For the last half hour, Ollie repeatedly told us that he would rather watch Finding Nemo.
There are more reasons not to go to a movie theater than to simply stay home and watch a movie in our family room, especially with a toddler. Movie theaters are expensive. It’s better to watch movies in smaller chunks for Ollie (and us). And we really should preview films before watching them with Ollie, which is both time-consuming and costly.
However it’s undeniable that there is magic in a movie theater and I saw that in Ollie’s eyes looking up at the screen with wonder as the film took us through the ocean. I loved going to the theater as a kid and I look forward to sharing more movie-going experiences with my son.
A couple tips for the toddler film experiences:
- Bring snacks and/or buy popcorn.
- Grab a cardboard drink tray to use as a plate
- Skip the movie trailers if possible.
- Go during a matinee time. Less movie goers to disturb and it's cheaper.
- Talk over the experience and the film beforehand.
- Be prepared to help your kid unpack the experience and the film afterwards. Conversations about the movie theater (that may seem repetitive) are important in the processing the experience.
The day before we went, we told Ollie that we were going to go see Finding Dory, which was going to be like Finding Nemo. We explained to Ollie that we were going to go “tomorrow.” Ollie then spent the remainder of the day trying to figure what “tomorrow” meant. An hour would pass and he would ask if it was tomorrow yet. Eventually he understood that tomorrow was going to be when he woke up the following morning. This worked out fine until the next morning when we had to explain that we were going to go to the movie in a couple hours, which initially didn’t make sense to Ollie.
We talked about how the movie theater was going to be dark, which in Ollie’s head meant that it was nighttime. We explained what Ollie could do if he felt scared and that if he need to go to the bathroom or wanted to leave early, he could ask us at any time. We also went over how he needed to be quiet during the movie.
Ollie did really well in the movie theater. He got annoyed and impatient with the half an hour of movie trailers before the film (which annoyed us as well). For the first part of the film, Ollie stayed in his own seat and then later switched to Diana’s lap. Finding Dory wasn’t a bad film for Ollie to watch, but it wasn’t perfect. It was a little bit too long and a little bit too dark. For the last half hour, Ollie repeatedly told us that he would rather watch Finding Nemo.
There are more reasons not to go to a movie theater than to simply stay home and watch a movie in our family room, especially with a toddler. Movie theaters are expensive. It’s better to watch movies in smaller chunks for Ollie (and us). And we really should preview films before watching them with Ollie, which is both time-consuming and costly.
However it’s undeniable that there is magic in a movie theater and I saw that in Ollie’s eyes looking up at the screen with wonder as the film took us through the ocean. I loved going to the theater as a kid and I look forward to sharing more movie-going experiences with my son.
A couple tips for the toddler film experiences:
- Bring snacks and/or buy popcorn.
- Grab a cardboard drink tray to use as a plate
- Skip the movie trailers if possible.
- Go during a matinee time. Less movie goers to disturb and it's cheaper.
- Talk over the experience and the film beforehand.
- Be prepared to help your kid unpack the experience and the film afterwards. Conversations about the movie theater (that may seem repetitive) are important in the processing the experience.
Monday, April 18, 2016
Parenthood: Week 148 - Potty, Bagels And Toddler Co-sleeping.
Ollie’s been doing really with potty training. This whole process actually ended up being a lot more fun than I thought that it would be. There was some frustration and some apprehension, but it really has worked out. It’s great to see the confidence in Ollie and see him grow in his independence. There’s still a lot of work to do but it’s been going well.
Ollie recently learned how to pee standing up, which makes going to the bathroom when we are out of the house a lot easier, however like most toddlers, Ollie has difficulty differentiating going #1 or #2. Combine this confusion with peeing standing up and you’ve got a mess on your hands . . . or more realistically on the floor.
****
A couple days ago, I was packing my lunch in the kitchen and Ollie was looking at a book in the living room, out of my line of sight. I started hearing Ollie running and saying “here Buffy!” I heard the really the sound of Buffy's paws followed by the stomping of toddler feet.
“Buffy, I have your toy, come play!!!”
Suddenly, I saw a blur of fur and felt Buffy hiding between my legs and saw Ollie walk in the kitchen smiling. “I want to play with Buffy,” Ollie requested. I replied, “Buffy loves you, but I don’t think she feels like playing right now.”
Ollie paused, look sad for a second and then looked up smiling and asked, “Can I have a bagel?”
****
“Okay, well if you aren’t going to bed in your crib, I am!”
I climbed into his crib in an effort to motivate Ollie to want to go into the crib himself. In the past, Ollie wants me to get out of his crib, but this time, he looked over at me and started singing: “Puff the magic dragon . . . ”
Ollie tried to give me a lullaby and as Diana put Ollie in the crib with me, we settled down for the night. After some conversations and tossing of blanket, Ollie requested, “daddy, move over!” I was already on against the side of the crib feeling the slats pressing into my back as Ollie’s hand pushed against my face.
“Ollie, stop pushing daddy, there’s no more space. Daddy is going to leave.”
“No, Daddy stay and Ollie sleep on top of daddy.”
After a couple more minutes of giggling and silliness, I left Ollie in his crib with the feeling of his little hand impression on my face and warmth in my heart.
Ollie recently learned how to pee standing up, which makes going to the bathroom when we are out of the house a lot easier, however like most toddlers, Ollie has difficulty differentiating going #1 or #2. Combine this confusion with peeing standing up and you’ve got a mess on your hands . . . or more realistically on the floor.
****
A couple days ago, I was packing my lunch in the kitchen and Ollie was looking at a book in the living room, out of my line of sight. I started hearing Ollie running and saying “here Buffy!” I heard the really the sound of Buffy's paws followed by the stomping of toddler feet.
“Buffy, I have your toy, come play!!!”
Suddenly, I saw a blur of fur and felt Buffy hiding between my legs and saw Ollie walk in the kitchen smiling. “I want to play with Buffy,” Ollie requested. I replied, “Buffy loves you, but I don’t think she feels like playing right now.”
Ollie paused, look sad for a second and then looked up smiling and asked, “Can I have a bagel?”
****
“Okay, well if you aren’t going to bed in your crib, I am!”
I climbed into his crib in an effort to motivate Ollie to want to go into the crib himself. In the past, Ollie wants me to get out of his crib, but this time, he looked over at me and started singing: “Puff the magic dragon . . . ”
Ollie tried to give me a lullaby and as Diana put Ollie in the crib with me, we settled down for the night. After some conversations and tossing of blanket, Ollie requested, “daddy, move over!” I was already on against the side of the crib feeling the slats pressing into my back as Ollie’s hand pushed against my face.
“Ollie, stop pushing daddy, there’s no more space. Daddy is going to leave.”
“No, Daddy stay and Ollie sleep on top of daddy.”
After a couple more minutes of giggling and silliness, I left Ollie in his crib with the feeling of his little hand impression on my face and warmth in my heart.
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
Frat Boy: Thanksgiving - Part 1
I never went home for Thanksgiving when I was in college.
Relax, it’s not like there was some huge fight or drama. Thanksgiving wasn't a huge holiday for my family and since it was so close to winter break, it didn't make sense for me to fly home from Chicago to Seattle twice in the span of one month.
My freshmen year, my parents and my brother came out and we had Thanksgiving in Chicago. It was one of the coldest Thanksgivings in the history of Chicago and my brother and my parents have never let me forget this fact. The next year I went over to my friend Erica’s house and the year after well . . . that was an adventure.
There was a group of people from PMA and SAI who decided to stay in town for that Thanksgiving. There was a football game only a couple hours away that a lot of people wanted to go to so a group of us decided to have Thanksgiving as a college family.
Here was the plan: We would do prep the meal Wednesday and one of my best friends Kerry, would stay back from the game with me (neither of us was that into football) and take care of cooking the turkey and getting dinner set-up.
Kerry was an upperclassmen that I met through NUMB. She was two years older than me and was one of those girls from SAI who took me under her wing. Kerry took care of me like an older sister but not the "responsible" kind of older sister. She was the first person I ever took a shot (it was straight Southern Comfort). Immediately after that I had my second and third shot with her.
Kerry was one of the smartest people I've ever met in her life and while many times she would have great advise for me, often her responses to my problems were hilariously sarcastic. After my friend Chrissie graduated (who I discussed in this earlier post), it was Kerry who stepped up and wouldn't hesitate for a second to stand up for me.
Kerry was honest, almost to the point that it would hurt your feelings as a friend, but it was this clarity that taught me about the nuances of what friendship meant in this crazy place called college.
We decided to cook the food over at SAI so Thanksgiving morning I headed over to the sorority house. No one was in the house except for Kerry and I. Everyone either went home or was at the football game.
We put the turkey in the oven in the basement kitchen and went back upstairs to the living room to watch television. We had set-up the turkey in one of those self-basting plastic bags so we wouldn’t have to check on it as often but we figured we should keep tabs on the bird.
After an hour or so Kerry went to check on the turkey and she said everything was fine. Some time later Kerry asked me to check on the turkey. I whined a little bit not wanting to get off the couch but eventually headed downstairs. As I opened the basement door a billow of smoke entered the stairwell. I made may my to the kitchen and saw smoke pouring out of the sides of the oven and up through the cooking range and I panicked.
Relax, it’s not like there was some huge fight or drama. Thanksgiving wasn't a huge holiday for my family and since it was so close to winter break, it didn't make sense for me to fly home from Chicago to Seattle twice in the span of one month.
My freshmen year, my parents and my brother came out and we had Thanksgiving in Chicago. It was one of the coldest Thanksgivings in the history of Chicago and my brother and my parents have never let me forget this fact. The next year I went over to my friend Erica’s house and the year after well . . . that was an adventure.
There was a group of people from PMA and SAI who decided to stay in town for that Thanksgiving. There was a football game only a couple hours away that a lot of people wanted to go to so a group of us decided to have Thanksgiving as a college family.
Here was the plan: We would do prep the meal Wednesday and one of my best friends Kerry, would stay back from the game with me (neither of us was that into football) and take care of cooking the turkey and getting dinner set-up.
Kerry was an upperclassmen that I met through NUMB. She was two years older than me and was one of those girls from SAI who took me under her wing. Kerry took care of me like an older sister but not the "responsible" kind of older sister. She was the first person I ever took a shot (it was straight Southern Comfort). Immediately after that I had my second and third shot with her.
Kerry was one of the smartest people I've ever met in her life and while many times she would have great advise for me, often her responses to my problems were hilariously sarcastic. After my friend Chrissie graduated (who I discussed in this earlier post), it was Kerry who stepped up and wouldn't hesitate for a second to stand up for me.
Kerry was honest, almost to the point that it would hurt your feelings as a friend, but it was this clarity that taught me about the nuances of what friendship meant in this crazy place called college.
We decided to cook the food over at SAI so Thanksgiving morning I headed over to the sorority house. No one was in the house except for Kerry and I. Everyone either went home or was at the football game.
We put the turkey in the oven in the basement kitchen and went back upstairs to the living room to watch television. We had set-up the turkey in one of those self-basting plastic bags so we wouldn’t have to check on it as often but we figured we should keep tabs on the bird.
After an hour or so Kerry went to check on the turkey and she said everything was fine. Some time later Kerry asked me to check on the turkey. I whined a little bit not wanting to get off the couch but eventually headed downstairs. As I opened the basement door a billow of smoke entered the stairwell. I made may my to the kitchen and saw smoke pouring out of the sides of the oven and up through the cooking range and I panicked.
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
Frat Boy: Saga Dining Hall - Part 4
My brother was into Iron Chef way before it ever became a show in America. He collected videotapes that came over from Japan and really enjoyed the over-the-top pro-wrestling style presentation with the interesting and dynamic cooking.
When we’d get together we would watch these tapes together and it was a lot of fun so I figured why not do this at Saga?
Dillo Day, otherwise known at Mayfest is a spring celebration when people on campus collectively decided to chill out. The university sets-up a stage, get some mid-level music acts to put on some music and there’s series of events for students. The NUMB-Mu-Alpha-Iota group didn’t really get into the formal organized events too much, but we did get with the program and get our party on.
My senior year we decided to put on a competition between the different classes, freshmen, sophomore, juniors and seniors. A group of seniors including myself and some girls from SAI set up a series of events and points that could be earned towards a grand total. This was of course rigged so that the seniors would win and the underclassmen knew this but they didn’t seem to mind.
One event was a game of softball, there was a trivia game and there was the main event: SAGA IRON CHEF!
People worked in teams of two, one girl and one guy. They were able to use two ingredients they brought in from outside the cafeteria. The teams had to use whatever ingredient we chose, along with whatever food there was at Saga to put together a three-course meal.
We walked into Saga that day in mass,almost forty of us. Mary, a senior from SAI and I scurried around trying to figure out what the secret ingredient was as people nervously stood around.
It was getting weird that people were just milling around, so we told everyone to get food like they normally would and settle down. Once everyone got seated, Mary and I made an announcement.
We welcomed everyone to Saga Iron Chef, went over the rules and announced the secret ingredients: Baby Corn and Bananas.
Immediately there was chaos. The four teams ran around the cafeteria at full speed shoving piles of food on their trays frantically trying to put something together. Unable to simply sit and watch, people in our group walked around and tried to figure out what people were doing.
Before I knew it, no one was sitting at the table and everyone was up and about, cheering people on and getting a little bit too into this event.
Mary and I stood in the middle of the maelstrom when we started hearing whispers that the cafeteria staff was unhappy with us.
Here’s the thing. There were different managers in the Plex all of the time but the staff who worked there was pretty consistent and we loved them. They were caring, thoughtful and really nice. Many of them learned our names and were a big part of the reason we liked coming to the Plex to eat.
These people were becoming distressed. I remember looking over at Mary and not knowing what to do. As I hesitated, she took the lead and went over and talked to one of the staff people that she knew.
Feeling that the end was near, we got everyone to sit down and chill out and we commenced judging.
There was the good: chocolate Courtney had brought in, melted in the microwave poured over a banana. The confusing: slices of baby corn placed on a pizza. And the simply confusing: a plastic cup filled with some kind of pop with bits of floating corn.
About halfway through the tasting, Mary came over to me and told me that we had to leave. The manager was upset about how much food we were wasting and the mess that we had made in the cafeteria.
We huddled quickly and told our group that we had to leave but that we needed to clean this place up and not leave this mess for the staff that served us every day.
In the same whirlwind that people were engaged in during the competition, people swept through the room, cleaned up our mess, cleared our table and got out of that place fast.
When we’d get together we would watch these tapes together and it was a lot of fun so I figured why not do this at Saga?
Dillo Day, otherwise known at Mayfest is a spring celebration when people on campus collectively decided to chill out. The university sets-up a stage, get some mid-level music acts to put on some music and there’s series of events for students. The NUMB-Mu-Alpha-Iota group didn’t really get into the formal organized events too much, but we did get with the program and get our party on.
My senior year we decided to put on a competition between the different classes, freshmen, sophomore, juniors and seniors. A group of seniors including myself and some girls from SAI set up a series of events and points that could be earned towards a grand total. This was of course rigged so that the seniors would win and the underclassmen knew this but they didn’t seem to mind.
One event was a game of softball, there was a trivia game and there was the main event: SAGA IRON CHEF!
People worked in teams of two, one girl and one guy. They were able to use two ingredients they brought in from outside the cafeteria. The teams had to use whatever ingredient we chose, along with whatever food there was at Saga to put together a three-course meal.
We walked into Saga that day in mass,almost forty of us. Mary, a senior from SAI and I scurried around trying to figure out what the secret ingredient was as people nervously stood around.
It was getting weird that people were just milling around, so we told everyone to get food like they normally would and settle down. Once everyone got seated, Mary and I made an announcement.
We welcomed everyone to Saga Iron Chef, went over the rules and announced the secret ingredients: Baby Corn and Bananas.
Immediately there was chaos. The four teams ran around the cafeteria at full speed shoving piles of food on their trays frantically trying to put something together. Unable to simply sit and watch, people in our group walked around and tried to figure out what people were doing.
Before I knew it, no one was sitting at the table and everyone was up and about, cheering people on and getting a little bit too into this event.
Mary and I stood in the middle of the maelstrom when we started hearing whispers that the cafeteria staff was unhappy with us.
Here’s the thing. There were different managers in the Plex all of the time but the staff who worked there was pretty consistent and we loved them. They were caring, thoughtful and really nice. Many of them learned our names and were a big part of the reason we liked coming to the Plex to eat.
These people were becoming distressed. I remember looking over at Mary and not knowing what to do. As I hesitated, she took the lead and went over and talked to one of the staff people that she knew.
Feeling that the end was near, we got everyone to sit down and chill out and we commenced judging.
There was the good: chocolate Courtney had brought in, melted in the microwave poured over a banana. The confusing: slices of baby corn placed on a pizza. And the simply confusing: a plastic cup filled with some kind of pop with bits of floating corn.
About halfway through the tasting, Mary came over to me and told me that we had to leave. The manager was upset about how much food we were wasting and the mess that we had made in the cafeteria.
We huddled quickly and told our group that we had to leave but that we needed to clean this place up and not leave this mess for the staff that served us every day.
In the same whirlwind that people were engaged in during the competition, people swept through the room, cleaned up our mess, cleared our table and got out of that place fast.
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
Frat Boy: Saga Dining Hall - Part 3
The Plex was set up with rows of long tables. Two rectangular tables would be combined on their short end to create one long table. You could comfortably sit sixteen people around these two table but we would inevitably fit more. By the busy point of lunch we would take over two rows of tables.
Most people didn’t eat breakfast in the cafeterias. If you did, it was a pretty quiet affair. People sat by themselves, and read a paper or caught up on some homework. Lunch and dinner was a completely different affair. People would start rolling in around 11 and by 12:30, we would have filled up our usual tables.
Sometimes the conversations were pretty chill, other times they were explosive. People would argue politics while others would rolled their eyes. Some people stormed off in anger while others would come to the table crying. I was asked out to a formal at the Plex, I gossiped with the best of them and I developed some of my closest friendship at our tables.
Like with any good meal and any family we had our traditions. Mikey would ask if anyone wanted to go get coffee, which was code to a group of us that we wanted to gossip about someone at the table. About once a week, we would choose someone to prank. Sometime it was taking away everything but the person’s tray so it would be a pain for them to clean up. Other times we would put all our dishes on one person’s tray to again, make it a pain for them to clean up. Then there were more creative pranks like the time Pete put a napkin in Chris’ sandwich. Chris was beyond angry when he bit in that sandwich and found it there. He stormed out of the Plex leaving his jacket and book bag behind.
We would sing “Happy Birthday” annoyingly loud when that day arrived for someone at the table, or didn’t. And one time we hijacked another groups singing of “Happy Birthday” by screaming a name of someone at our own table at the “happy birthday to ____” part of the song. The other group of people who were singing immediately stopped after we interjected and the entire dining hall fell silent. We all felt pretty bad about that one.
Maria would complain constantly about the lack of vegetarian choices and Henry would always eat platefuls of the main dish, no matter how disgusting it tasted. Jessica would create plates based on different color palettes as a challenge to break out of the monotony of yellow and light brown food that monopolize our food choices.
Mary would try to do the crossword puzzle every day, refusing to listen to anyone’s suggestions or ask for help and only figure out one or two clue. Max would lecture us on the superiority of his major, while Alex would argue with him, unbeknownst to Max, actually mocking him. Then there was Tracey who would always drink at least five glasses of diet coke.
I can’t forget to the mention practice of “Saga-thon.” People can be in and out of Saga pretty quickly, like 20 minutes. If you take your time, you should be there maximum 45. Instead of going back to do homework, or get on with the rest of our lives, people would often “Saga-thone.” This means that you get to Saga, eat with people who go their before you, and stay through another group of people coming and leaving, sometimes for hours. People at their worst could be at Saga for 2 maybe 3 hours.
The funny thing about being a “Saga-thon” was that it was a term people used to describe themselves. No one ever gave anyone a hard time for sticking around the cafeteria long after they should have logically left. This was because we all understood that sometimes we all need some time to get away from the grind by chilling with friends through the inevitable parade of people who would come and go throughout the afternoon.
All of this silliness, drama and fun, may have been loud at times, but we didn’t mind. We probably were pretty obnoxious to the other people eating there, but we didn’t seem to notice.
One time though we did go too far. It wasn’t when we combined tables into one “magnum table.” That only got us a stern talking too about fire code. It was Saga Iron Chen when we crossed a line.
Most people didn’t eat breakfast in the cafeterias. If you did, it was a pretty quiet affair. People sat by themselves, and read a paper or caught up on some homework. Lunch and dinner was a completely different affair. People would start rolling in around 11 and by 12:30, we would have filled up our usual tables.
Sometimes the conversations were pretty chill, other times they were explosive. People would argue politics while others would rolled their eyes. Some people stormed off in anger while others would come to the table crying. I was asked out to a formal at the Plex, I gossiped with the best of them and I developed some of my closest friendship at our tables.
Like with any good meal and any family we had our traditions. Mikey would ask if anyone wanted to go get coffee, which was code to a group of us that we wanted to gossip about someone at the table. About once a week, we would choose someone to prank. Sometime it was taking away everything but the person’s tray so it would be a pain for them to clean up. Other times we would put all our dishes on one person’s tray to again, make it a pain for them to clean up. Then there were more creative pranks like the time Pete put a napkin in Chris’ sandwich. Chris was beyond angry when he bit in that sandwich and found it there. He stormed out of the Plex leaving his jacket and book bag behind.
We would sing “Happy Birthday” annoyingly loud when that day arrived for someone at the table, or didn’t. And one time we hijacked another groups singing of “Happy Birthday” by screaming a name of someone at our own table at the “happy birthday to ____” part of the song. The other group of people who were singing immediately stopped after we interjected and the entire dining hall fell silent. We all felt pretty bad about that one.
Maria would complain constantly about the lack of vegetarian choices and Henry would always eat platefuls of the main dish, no matter how disgusting it tasted. Jessica would create plates based on different color palettes as a challenge to break out of the monotony of yellow and light brown food that monopolize our food choices.
Mary would try to do the crossword puzzle every day, refusing to listen to anyone’s suggestions or ask for help and only figure out one or two clue. Max would lecture us on the superiority of his major, while Alex would argue with him, unbeknownst to Max, actually mocking him. Then there was Tracey who would always drink at least five glasses of diet coke.
I can’t forget to the mention practice of “Saga-thon.” People can be in and out of Saga pretty quickly, like 20 minutes. If you take your time, you should be there maximum 45. Instead of going back to do homework, or get on with the rest of our lives, people would often “Saga-thone.” This means that you get to Saga, eat with people who go their before you, and stay through another group of people coming and leaving, sometimes for hours. People at their worst could be at Saga for 2 maybe 3 hours.
The funny thing about being a “Saga-thon” was that it was a term people used to describe themselves. No one ever gave anyone a hard time for sticking around the cafeteria long after they should have logically left. This was because we all understood that sometimes we all need some time to get away from the grind by chilling with friends through the inevitable parade of people who would come and go throughout the afternoon.
All of this silliness, drama and fun, may have been loud at times, but we didn’t mind. We probably were pretty obnoxious to the other people eating there, but we didn’t seem to notice.
One time though we did go too far. It wasn’t when we combined tables into one “magnum table.” That only got us a stern talking too about fire code. It was Saga Iron Chen when we crossed a line.
Friday, August 22, 2014
Frat Boy: Saga Dining Hall - Part 2
When we walked into the east side, the workers always warmly greeted us. They would swipe our student IDs which also kept our meal plan accounts.
We would walk through a doorway and enter the line of food displayed exactly how you would expect in a cafeteria. First there were the plates. You always grabbed at least two plates, sometimes three. There’s nothing worse than being halfway down the line and needing to ask someone to hand you another plate.
The first thing on the line was always the main dish, which sometimes was awesome (chicken parmesan, chicken nuggets) often mediocre (hamburgers, grilled chicken breast) and at times disgusting (unidentifiable mystery meat mixed in with some grey-ish yellow sauce).
Inevitably some worker would be checking the temperatures of the food. I guess it’s great that the food was safe, but that doesn’t really help the fact that it sometimes tasted like paste. Then there would someone who would walk around and carefully drop pimetos on the vegetable. Chrissie always ranted about this, “maybe they could focus on making the food better as opposed to dressing up a turd.”
In addition to the main course there were standbys that they always prepped because we inevitably would skip the main course the vast majority of the time. These included: grilled cheese sandwiches, pasta with marinara sauce, cheese quesadillas, pizzas, French fries and the salad bar.
Drinks were watered down sodas and Minute-Maid juice selections. There was a soft-serve machine, pretty fresh coffee and usually a decent selection of cookies and brownies.
Most of the time I loaded one plate with a cheeses quesadillas, fries and hardboiled egg from the salad bar and the other plate with a grilled cheeses sandwich and marinara sauce. I’d grab a couple cookies and grab a glass of cranberry juice. I’d place the egg and fries in the quesadilla and roll it up and dip my grilled cheese in the marinara sauce.
I literally ate this for a meal, hundreds of times. Yes, it was kind of gross, but it was how I figured out how to make this eating situation work for me. My friends all had their own ways to cope with the mediocrity of the food. Some people used a lot of hot sauce, others focused on the salad bar and used tons of dressing while other simply drank a lot of coffee.
Sharing food is one of the most important ways that human beings bond with each other. What I learned at the Plex is that the quality of the food doesn’t necessarily negatively affect the fellowship of a meal.
We laughed about trying to eat some of the worst meats, being disgusted at overcooked hard-boiled eggs, wilted lettuce and rock hard cookies. We celebrated steak night, gorged on chicken nuggets and made mad dashes for the cookie tray whenever a fresh batch came out of the oven. It wasn’t about what we ate, it was the fact that we ate together as family that made the Plex so special.
Inevitably some worker would be checking the temperatures of the food. I guess it’s great that the food was safe, but that doesn’t really help the fact that it sometimes tasted like paste. Then there would someone who would walk around and carefully drop pimetos on the vegetable. Chrissie always ranted about this, “maybe they could focus on making the food better as opposed to dressing up a turd.”
In addition to the main course there were standbys that they always prepped because we inevitably would skip the main course the vast majority of the time. These included: grilled cheese sandwiches, pasta with marinara sauce, cheese quesadillas, pizzas, French fries and the salad bar.
Drinks were watered down sodas and Minute-Maid juice selections. There was a soft-serve machine, pretty fresh coffee and usually a decent selection of cookies and brownies.
Most of the time I loaded one plate with a cheeses quesadillas, fries and hardboiled egg from the salad bar and the other plate with a grilled cheeses sandwich and marinara sauce. I’d grab a couple cookies and grab a glass of cranberry juice. I’d place the egg and fries in the quesadilla and roll it up and dip my grilled cheese in the marinara sauce.
I literally ate this for a meal, hundreds of times. Yes, it was kind of gross, but it was how I figured out how to make this eating situation work for me. My friends all had their own ways to cope with the mediocrity of the food. Some people used a lot of hot sauce, others focused on the salad bar and used tons of dressing while other simply drank a lot of coffee.
Sharing food is one of the most important ways that human beings bond with each other. What I learned at the Plex is that the quality of the food doesn’t necessarily negatively affect the fellowship of a meal.
We laughed about trying to eat some of the worst meats, being disgusted at overcooked hard-boiled eggs, wilted lettuce and rock hard cookies. We celebrated steak night, gorged on chicken nuggets and made mad dashes for the cookie tray whenever a fresh batch came out of the oven. It wasn’t about what we ate, it was the fact that we ate together as family that made the Plex so special.
Friday, August 15, 2014
Frat Boy: Saga Dining Hall - Part 1
For four years, almost every single week day of my academic career at Northwestern, I endured mediocre dining hall meals that were sometimes borderline inedible and I loved every minute of it.
It’s hilarious how prospective students wonder about the dorm food. Yes, you want to go to a college that has decent food but is that really the deal-breaker? I guess my perspective has to do with the fact that if I based my choice to go to Northwestern on the quality of the food I would eat during my time there, I would not have chosen to go to that university.
Part of it was my own choosing.
One of the reasons I chose to live in the Plex because there was a dining hall on the bottom floor of the dorm. This seemed really convenient and it was especially nice on days when the weather was bad. Only a minority of the dorms on campus had dining halls on the bottom floor.
Eating at dining halls wasn’t the only option on campus. There were a cafés and different dining options a Norris, our student union. You could use credit from meals at these different places. For the most part I ate at the Plex dining hall.
The Plex cafeteria was split into two sides. The west side had made to order meals. You could ask for a specific kind of salad or sandwich and the person behind the line would make it ready to order for you. This food was fresh and with the addition of a small convenience store near the entrance of this side, made for a nice dining experience.
I ate on the west side a couple times, but in general, I stuck to the east side, the worse of the two, because that’s where my family, my frat and my social circle, NUMB-Mu-Alpha-Iota would gather.
Why did we choose to eat at this cafeteria? There were better cafeterias not too far away and it’s not like we didn’t have a better option on the west side of the building. Honestly, I have no idea, why, it’s just the way we did things. When anyone questioned this choice over an especially bad dinner, we would laugh off this very reasonable and logical question like they were asking us why we had heads.
It was like the bar in Cheers. Whenever I walked in, I’d see someone in our social group happily greet me. Even though I almost always had morning classes, coming to lunch and seeing everyone there felt like the true start of my day.
It wasn’t perfect but it was ours, and oh, how we made it ours. Sometimes it was in small ways, other times it was in big ways and one time our effort to make this place our own got us kicked out.
Part of it was my own choosing.
One of the reasons I chose to live in the Plex because there was a dining hall on the bottom floor of the dorm. This seemed really convenient and it was especially nice on days when the weather was bad. Only a minority of the dorms on campus had dining halls on the bottom floor.
Eating at dining halls wasn’t the only option on campus. There were a cafés and different dining options a Norris, our student union. You could use credit from meals at these different places. For the most part I ate at the Plex dining hall.
The Plex cafeteria was split into two sides. The west side had made to order meals. You could ask for a specific kind of salad or sandwich and the person behind the line would make it ready to order for you. This food was fresh and with the addition of a small convenience store near the entrance of this side, made for a nice dining experience.
I ate on the west side a couple times, but in general, I stuck to the east side, the worse of the two, because that’s where my family, my frat and my social circle, NUMB-Mu-Alpha-Iota would gather.
Why did we choose to eat at this cafeteria? There were better cafeterias not too far away and it’s not like we didn’t have a better option on the west side of the building. Honestly, I have no idea, why, it’s just the way we did things. When anyone questioned this choice over an especially bad dinner, we would laugh off this very reasonable and logical question like they were asking us why we had heads.
It was like the bar in Cheers. Whenever I walked in, I’d see someone in our social group happily greet me. Even though I almost always had morning classes, coming to lunch and seeing everyone there felt like the true start of my day.
It wasn’t perfect but it was ours, and oh, how we made it ours. Sometimes it was in small ways, other times it was in big ways and one time our effort to make this place our own got us kicked out.
Friday, August 8, 2014
Frat Boy: Chrissie - Part 2
When I rushed PMA, Chrissie was proud and supportive. At PMA parties she would make sure to introduce me other people and always made sure that I was included on the dance floor, even though I had no idea how to dance at that time.
Chrissie wasn’t in SAI. I remember asking her why she never rushed and she brushed the question off as not a big deal. It just something she wasn’t into. So I was surprised when she rushed SAI that spring and joined.
I was full in. I went to every PMA meeting and almost every event. I dove right into the deep end. Chrissie didn’t. When she joined spring being her last quarter at college; many other things were on her mind.
I remember questioning her loyalty to the group, when she wasn’t enthusiastic about SAI events. Why join if you are not going to give it your all? So I asked her after coming back from a PMA & SAI joint event why she didn’t show up. Being a freshman, I asked in a callous and judgmental way.
I’ll never forget the look in her eyes as her eyes met mine. It wasn’t that Chrissie was sad but it was that she was worn down. Yes, SAI was fun, but it was more of a undergrad's game. The general plan was that you join as a freshmen, do your major work as a sophomore and junior and then senior year, you watch the fruits of your labor and get to step back. Chrissie was a weird place where undergrads in that organization had seniority as a sister over her. As Chrissie explained all of this and how hard it was sometimes to be in a group but not feel like she was a totally a member, I realized the biggest similarity between us.
Chrissie always seemed like the life of the party. She always had friends around, right? Then why did she choose to live in the most anti-social dorm on campus. Then I remembered how many times I greeted her as she walked alone on campus and how many times I joined her as she sat alone in the cafeteria. Here is a senior girl, hanging out with a freshmen boy. If she was really that central in any social group than she wouldn’t be hanging out with me.
Chrissie and I both didn’t fit in with large groups. We didn’t have groups of friends. We were both searching for this by joining SAI and PMA but I did it earlier in my college career and somehow it worked for me in a way joining SAI didn’t work for Chrissie. Even after being initiated into PMA, that feeling of being on the fringes never left me completely and I think that’s something that Chrissie and me always shared.
I didn’t realize this at the time. I just knew that my friend just didn’t feel like she belonged. It would have been easy for her to walk away from SAI. She didn’t have to follow through with her obligations, but she did.
After four years in PMA, I found myself in the same spot that Chrissie was in the end of her senior year. That feeling of being in the center was no longer there. My time in power had passed and the rest of my life had taken priority. How do you deal with this? You can be dragged out kicking and screaming and complain about how the underclassmen don’t know what they are doing or you can do what Chrissie taught me by her example:
Leave with grace and dignity. Accept the consequences of your actions and accept the hand that life has dealt you. Hold your head up high to those that would tear you down and always leave them with a smile. Dignity doesn’t mean you are a doormat, rather it means that you are never a victim and you never feel sorry for yourself.
In the last couple weeks of the school, Chrissie put away the college clothing and dressed more professionally. She complained less about others and she seemed to walk with a stronger purpose. The confidence that had once intimidated me had transformed into a maturity that impressed me.
Chrissie was my older sister in college and she took care of me. She was proud of whatever accomplishments I managed, no matter how small. I never told her so, but I was proud of her. When I told people in college that she was my friend, I felt like somebody, a person that mattered and as I write about her now, I still do.
Chrissie wasn’t in SAI. I remember asking her why she never rushed and she brushed the question off as not a big deal. It just something she wasn’t into. So I was surprised when she rushed SAI that spring and joined.
I was full in. I went to every PMA meeting and almost every event. I dove right into the deep end. Chrissie didn’t. When she joined spring being her last quarter at college; many other things were on her mind.
I remember questioning her loyalty to the group, when she wasn’t enthusiastic about SAI events. Why join if you are not going to give it your all? So I asked her after coming back from a PMA & SAI joint event why she didn’t show up. Being a freshman, I asked in a callous and judgmental way.
I’ll never forget the look in her eyes as her eyes met mine. It wasn’t that Chrissie was sad but it was that she was worn down. Yes, SAI was fun, but it was more of a undergrad's game. The general plan was that you join as a freshmen, do your major work as a sophomore and junior and then senior year, you watch the fruits of your labor and get to step back. Chrissie was a weird place where undergrads in that organization had seniority as a sister over her. As Chrissie explained all of this and how hard it was sometimes to be in a group but not feel like she was a totally a member, I realized the biggest similarity between us.
Chrissie always seemed like the life of the party. She always had friends around, right? Then why did she choose to live in the most anti-social dorm on campus. Then I remembered how many times I greeted her as she walked alone on campus and how many times I joined her as she sat alone in the cafeteria. Here is a senior girl, hanging out with a freshmen boy. If she was really that central in any social group than she wouldn’t be hanging out with me.
Chrissie and I both didn’t fit in with large groups. We didn’t have groups of friends. We were both searching for this by joining SAI and PMA but I did it earlier in my college career and somehow it worked for me in a way joining SAI didn’t work for Chrissie. Even after being initiated into PMA, that feeling of being on the fringes never left me completely and I think that’s something that Chrissie and me always shared.
I didn’t realize this at the time. I just knew that my friend just didn’t feel like she belonged. It would have been easy for her to walk away from SAI. She didn’t have to follow through with her obligations, but she did.
After four years in PMA, I found myself in the same spot that Chrissie was in the end of her senior year. That feeling of being in the center was no longer there. My time in power had passed and the rest of my life had taken priority. How do you deal with this? You can be dragged out kicking and screaming and complain about how the underclassmen don’t know what they are doing or you can do what Chrissie taught me by her example:
Leave with grace and dignity. Accept the consequences of your actions and accept the hand that life has dealt you. Hold your head up high to those that would tear you down and always leave them with a smile. Dignity doesn’t mean you are a doormat, rather it means that you are never a victim and you never feel sorry for yourself.
In the last couple weeks of the school, Chrissie put away the college clothing and dressed more professionally. She complained less about others and she seemed to walk with a stronger purpose. The confidence that had once intimidated me had transformed into a maturity that impressed me.
Chrissie was my older sister in college and she took care of me. She was proud of whatever accomplishments I managed, no matter how small. I never told her so, but I was proud of her. When I told people in college that she was my friend, I felt like somebody, a person that mattered and as I write about her now, I still do.
Monday, August 4, 2014
Parenthood Week 62 - The Party: Part 1
I don't get out much.
It has been almost two years since I went out and did something social without Diana or Ollie. I was very protective of Diana during her pregnancy and the craziness of Ollie’s first year of life didn’t leave a lot of free time. I was okay with this fact but I knew that I was important that I push myself out of this pattern. So when LaJuanda invited me to come over for a party that would include a performance of her acapella group she sang in, I told her that I would come, but I no idea the struggle that night would bring.
LaJuanda had invited me to parties earlier but I either declined because Diana was pregnant and I had to take care of her or I’d laugh it off because the performance would be at 9pm and that’s WAY too late for this new parent to be out. The thing is that LaJuanda kept asking me to come and in this way, I realized that it would mean something to LaJuanda and our friendship for me to come.
I met LaJuanda when she was a freshmen her first night on campus. I had graduated at that point but my wife who is two years younger than me was in marching band with her. I remember LaJuanda being timid and displaying a quiet thoughtfulness. I saw her around that year and we would be friendly with each other but mostly our interactions were limited to an exploding fist bump.
Years later, we ended up both working as assistants at the same school and we agreed to car pool to and from work. Over the twenty-minute drive we bonded over marching band memories, stories about mutual friends and puppies (this was the first year we had Buffy). We became friends over this time and I would regularly invite LaJuanda to social gatherings and to hang out.
There’s many great traits about LaJuanda. She’s smart without being cocky, she’s funny but also sensitive and she is empathetic with a incredible capacity to understand people of all ages. The most amazing thing about LaJuanda is when she looks at you and smiles; she makes you feel like you belong.
The performance was at 9pm. I wanted to get their early around 8:30, so I would need to leave the house at 8. Ollie goes to bed at 7pm, so I could take a shower around 7:15. Parents, as you know plans rarely go as hoped. Ollie didn’t get to be until 7:30, then I had to unclog our bathtub which was in really bad shape. By the time all of this was done it was 8:15. Okay, forget the shower. I threw on a clean Doctor Who t-shirt, combed my hair, washed my face and I was out the door.
The driving went fine. I was in the area around 8:50, but then the parking was killer. Billy Joel was doing a concert near-by which meant is was nigh-impossible to find an open spot. Usually in Chicago, all you have to do is circle the block a couple times and something will open up. It wasn’t like that this night.
After not finding parking in the immediate area, I worked my way outwards. Every block I went through, every open spot then ended up being a fire hydrant frustrated space. As the minutes passed, I was feeling more and more like a failure. How could I not be able to make this evening work? By that time, I found a spot, it was 9:30, a half an hour after the performance was scheduled to start.
By the time I parked, I wanted to go home. How could I show up this late to a performance that was probably already done? None of these people are married or have kids, how could I survive at this party? I walked down the street towards the apartment crossing my arms, holding myself and feeling tears well up as the warm summer evening breeze felt cold and made me shudder.
Standing in front of the apartment building, I could hear the party and I could see the light upstairs. What was I going to do? Show up after the performance? Apologize awkwardly? I can’t do this. I can’t even make it to the event on time, let alone be social. Maybe the reason I haven’t gone out on my own with friends is because I don’t know how to anymore, maybe I’ve been using Diana and Ollie as an excuse.
So I turned around and headed back to the parking lot. I started formulated an excuse that I would send to LaJuanda. I could blame it on Ollie. Chances are, LaJuanda didn’t even notice that I wasn’t there for the performance.
As I crossed the street to the parking lot LaJuanda texted me. . .
It has been almost two years since I went out and did something social without Diana or Ollie. I was very protective of Diana during her pregnancy and the craziness of Ollie’s first year of life didn’t leave a lot of free time. I was okay with this fact but I knew that I was important that I push myself out of this pattern. So when LaJuanda invited me to come over for a party that would include a performance of her acapella group she sang in, I told her that I would come, but I no idea the struggle that night would bring.
LaJuanda had invited me to parties earlier but I either declined because Diana was pregnant and I had to take care of her or I’d laugh it off because the performance would be at 9pm and that’s WAY too late for this new parent to be out. The thing is that LaJuanda kept asking me to come and in this way, I realized that it would mean something to LaJuanda and our friendship for me to come.
I met LaJuanda when she was a freshmen her first night on campus. I had graduated at that point but my wife who is two years younger than me was in marching band with her. I remember LaJuanda being timid and displaying a quiet thoughtfulness. I saw her around that year and we would be friendly with each other but mostly our interactions were limited to an exploding fist bump.
Years later, we ended up both working as assistants at the same school and we agreed to car pool to and from work. Over the twenty-minute drive we bonded over marching band memories, stories about mutual friends and puppies (this was the first year we had Buffy). We became friends over this time and I would regularly invite LaJuanda to social gatherings and to hang out.
There’s many great traits about LaJuanda. She’s smart without being cocky, she’s funny but also sensitive and she is empathetic with a incredible capacity to understand people of all ages. The most amazing thing about LaJuanda is when she looks at you and smiles; she makes you feel like you belong.
The performance was at 9pm. I wanted to get their early around 8:30, so I would need to leave the house at 8. Ollie goes to bed at 7pm, so I could take a shower around 7:15. Parents, as you know plans rarely go as hoped. Ollie didn’t get to be until 7:30, then I had to unclog our bathtub which was in really bad shape. By the time all of this was done it was 8:15. Okay, forget the shower. I threw on a clean Doctor Who t-shirt, combed my hair, washed my face and I was out the door.
The driving went fine. I was in the area around 8:50, but then the parking was killer. Billy Joel was doing a concert near-by which meant is was nigh-impossible to find an open spot. Usually in Chicago, all you have to do is circle the block a couple times and something will open up. It wasn’t like that this night.
After not finding parking in the immediate area, I worked my way outwards. Every block I went through, every open spot then ended up being a fire hydrant frustrated space. As the minutes passed, I was feeling more and more like a failure. How could I not be able to make this evening work? By that time, I found a spot, it was 9:30, a half an hour after the performance was scheduled to start.
By the time I parked, I wanted to go home. How could I show up this late to a performance that was probably already done? None of these people are married or have kids, how could I survive at this party? I walked down the street towards the apartment crossing my arms, holding myself and feeling tears well up as the warm summer evening breeze felt cold and made me shudder.
Standing in front of the apartment building, I could hear the party and I could see the light upstairs. What was I going to do? Show up after the performance? Apologize awkwardly? I can’t do this. I can’t even make it to the event on time, let alone be social. Maybe the reason I haven’t gone out on my own with friends is because I don’t know how to anymore, maybe I’ve been using Diana and Ollie as an excuse.
So I turned around and headed back to the parking lot. I started formulated an excuse that I would send to LaJuanda. I could blame it on Ollie. Chances are, LaJuanda didn’t even notice that I wasn’t there for the performance.
As I crossed the street to the parking lot LaJuanda texted me. . .
Friday, August 1, 2014
Frat Boy: Chrissie - Part 1
There’s nothing more intimidating to a freshman boy than a senior girl.
I remember coming to campus my freshmen year and just being in awe of these woman. Part of it was the way they looked and the way they dressed but most of it had to do with the poise in which they carried themselves and walked around campus.
I usually don’t have issues talking to girls. Most of my friends are women, but walking onto campus, I had no idea whatsoever how to interact with these seniors, which is one reason why my friendship with Chrissie was so remarkable.
Chrissie was in color guard. Those are the people that wave big flags during marching band shows. Like the other senior girls I met through marching band and SAI, she walked around campus with an ease and confidence that I envied, but there was something more approachable about her. That feeling probably had to do with the fact that she’s the one who first approached me.
We both lived in the Plex and I would often see her at meals in the cafeteria we called Saga (I’ll go into the whole craziness that was eating with the NUMB-Mu-Alpha-Iota Magnum tables later). One day she just started talking to me. It was one of those conversations where one person talks a lot while the other person responds with one-word answers that keep the conversation going.
Chrissie quickly found out that we had some things in common besides the fact that we lived in the same dorm. We both liked comic books. This was a time that geek culture was just starting to become mainstream so when this came up someone at the table made a derogatory comment about comic books. Then Chrissie lowered her chin and opened up a can.
Chrissie didn’t take crap from anyone. She always had a response, had a death stare at the ready and could drop an insult that could put someone in his or her place as easily as breathing. But she wasn’t mean. She just didn’t like it when people disrespected others for no reason. She was the first person to laugh at a humorous jab at someone else’s expense but she was also the first person to jump in if a line was crossed.
As our friendship grew, I started talking more, while Chrissie continued to talk a lot. She had a parent who was on disability and there was a lot less money in her family than her. My parents paid my way through Northwestern. Her parents did not. She had to work to pay tuition sometimes at work-study jobs at the university and other times at places like Burger King.
When I came to Northwestern University I assumed most people there had families that could afford to send their kids there. There are a large percentage of folks on campus who are in this situation, but there are also a lot of students who take out student loans and work their entire time they are in college.
I didn’t have a sense of this my freshmen year and I assumed everyone was like me financially, because no one seemed to talk about this stuff except for Chrissie. It’s not like she was whining, but this kind of stuff was on her mind.
Chrissie knew how different our families were but it didn’t matter to her. There was no guilt she laid on me because of my level of privilege. We were born into different families and at the end of the day, what was most important to Chrissie wasn’t the circumstances that you were born into but the way you handled whatever crap came to you because of it.
I had a myriad of things to complain about freshmen year. I’m sure that Chrissie had heard it all before but she always validated my complaints, as ridiculous as they were in retrospect.
That was what we built our friendship on. We were very different in many ways, but we were there for each other. We made each other feel like what we were both going through in our lives mattered. For a new freshmen trying to his way and for a senior staring down the reality of life after graduation, what we were for each other as friends, could not have meant more.
As much as we supported each other there were things that were difficult for me to understand and it was joining PMA and Chrissie joining SAI that led me to question my friend . . .
I remember coming to campus my freshmen year and just being in awe of these woman. Part of it was the way they looked and the way they dressed but most of it had to do with the poise in which they carried themselves and walked around campus.
I usually don’t have issues talking to girls. Most of my friends are women, but walking onto campus, I had no idea whatsoever how to interact with these seniors, which is one reason why my friendship with Chrissie was so remarkable.
Chrissie was in color guard. Those are the people that wave big flags during marching band shows. Like the other senior girls I met through marching band and SAI, she walked around campus with an ease and confidence that I envied, but there was something more approachable about her. That feeling probably had to do with the fact that she’s the one who first approached me.
We both lived in the Plex and I would often see her at meals in the cafeteria we called Saga (I’ll go into the whole craziness that was eating with the NUMB-Mu-Alpha-Iota Magnum tables later). One day she just started talking to me. It was one of those conversations where one person talks a lot while the other person responds with one-word answers that keep the conversation going.
Chrissie quickly found out that we had some things in common besides the fact that we lived in the same dorm. We both liked comic books. This was a time that geek culture was just starting to become mainstream so when this came up someone at the table made a derogatory comment about comic books. Then Chrissie lowered her chin and opened up a can.
Chrissie didn’t take crap from anyone. She always had a response, had a death stare at the ready and could drop an insult that could put someone in his or her place as easily as breathing. But she wasn’t mean. She just didn’t like it when people disrespected others for no reason. She was the first person to laugh at a humorous jab at someone else’s expense but she was also the first person to jump in if a line was crossed.
As our friendship grew, I started talking more, while Chrissie continued to talk a lot. She had a parent who was on disability and there was a lot less money in her family than her. My parents paid my way through Northwestern. Her parents did not. She had to work to pay tuition sometimes at work-study jobs at the university and other times at places like Burger King.
When I came to Northwestern University I assumed most people there had families that could afford to send their kids there. There are a large percentage of folks on campus who are in this situation, but there are also a lot of students who take out student loans and work their entire time they are in college.
I didn’t have a sense of this my freshmen year and I assumed everyone was like me financially, because no one seemed to talk about this stuff except for Chrissie. It’s not like she was whining, but this kind of stuff was on her mind.
Chrissie knew how different our families were but it didn’t matter to her. There was no guilt she laid on me because of my level of privilege. We were born into different families and at the end of the day, what was most important to Chrissie wasn’t the circumstances that you were born into but the way you handled whatever crap came to you because of it.
I had a myriad of things to complain about freshmen year. I’m sure that Chrissie had heard it all before but she always validated my complaints, as ridiculous as they were in retrospect.
That was what we built our friendship on. We were very different in many ways, but we were there for each other. We made each other feel like what we were both going through in our lives mattered. For a new freshmen trying to his way and for a senior staring down the reality of life after graduation, what we were for each other as friends, could not have meant more.
As much as we supported each other there were things that were difficult for me to understand and it was joining PMA and Chrissie joining SAI that led me to question my friend . . .
Friday, July 25, 2014
Frat Boy: The Sisters
My wife Diana was a member of the Beta chapter of Sigma Alpha Iota (SAI) at Northwestern. I’ve been to two other weddings between a member of PMA and a member of SAI. Off the top of my head I can think of ten other married couples between these two houses and endless dating couples.
SAI and PMA wasn’t merely a dating pool. I didn’t lead with that to give you that impression. There were many people who didn’t date between the houses. But the fact that so many people did and created life-long relationships like me and Diana speaks to the power of the relationship between these two different organizations.
PMA and SAI are the two music fraternities on campus. Once upon a time PMA was focused less on being social and more on bringing musicians together. At Northwestern this has evolved more into a social fraternity. SAI is still a music fraternity for woman. Like PMA, SAI has a house on campus and has more a social aspect than many other SAI chapters at different colleges.
There are also many people in SAI and PMA who are NUMB, hence the NUMB-Mu-Alpha-Iota social group name. This Venn-diagram of social group was one made my experience in PMA so much more than just hanging out with boys. SAI as part of our fraternal family gave balance to everything we do, and we did the best we could to help out SAI.
One time SAI organized a dance party with another fraternity on campus. Me and other PMA guys weren’t planning on going until a call from Heather, one of my best friend and SAI’s social chair at the time. The party was dead and the brothers of that frat were either out or playing video games, so she asked me if we could help. Ten minutes later, most of my frat was at that frat house bringing the party back to life.
SAI many times was the life of our parties. We could always depend on their support for our events no matter how poorly planned or communicated. One of my favorite things that the girls would do is come to our Rush events. These events were supposed to be for only boys but they would come and turn our informational meeting into a real social event. They would ask silly but sometimes helpful questions and broke the ice with many of these prospective members in a way none of us could.
There were some people of both houses who resented the relationship between the houses. Some boys felt that we should branch out to other sororities. My read of this was that these were guys who made a couple too many bad moves dating a girl in SAI and had an unsalvageable reputation. There were girls in SAI who weren’t interested in hanging out with us. Some girls join a sorority to get away from boys, so I understood that. College boys can really suck and be annoying. So there were those who kept to themselves during joint events.
The vast majority of members of PMA and SAI enjoyed the relationship between the houses. We were similar enough in our political structure that many of us could work together on projects but different enough that comparisons between these two groups could be disregarded if they got in the way of discussions.
Like two people in a long-term relationship there were times when things were really great between PMA and SAI and times when things were a little rockier. Some of this had to do with who was in charge. My freshmen year, the people on e-boards (executive board committee) in both groups would coordinate dates to make sure conflicts didn’t happen and sent out invites well ahead of time.. The e-board after them didn’t interact with SAI as directly and things soured a little bit. No one did anything deliberately vindictive, it was just that the people on the different e-boards were not as good friends, and therefore weren’t as excited to work together.
When my class got into power the social ties we had formed in NUMB and as underclassmen in PMA and SAI led to joint events and planning for individual events that took into consideration for the other organization.
There was a sense that there were things that these organizations could do together like have a joint music recital but things that we could not do like have a joint formal (dinner dance). But years after I left, they had a very successful joint formal, so who’s to really say what can or cannot be done.
SAI was my second home I spent so much time there that they sisters were never surprised to see my hanging out. It’s impossible for me to talk about my brothers in PMA without talking about the girls in SAI who were part of my life as a frat boy.
For me, SAI was part of the package deal that came with joining PMA. While others argued that we were not the same organizations, I always felt that SAI and PMA were one big family.
SAI challenged my brothers and I to be more organized, to strive to do things better and to be better men. This started with my first pledge party hanging out with the girls who came to welcome us to the family and has continued to this day with Diana, a sister of the SAI, who has never let this frat boy settle for being anything less than a man.
SAI and PMA wasn’t merely a dating pool. I didn’t lead with that to give you that impression. There were many people who didn’t date between the houses. But the fact that so many people did and created life-long relationships like me and Diana speaks to the power of the relationship between these two different organizations.
PMA and SAI are the two music fraternities on campus. Once upon a time PMA was focused less on being social and more on bringing musicians together. At Northwestern this has evolved more into a social fraternity. SAI is still a music fraternity for woman. Like PMA, SAI has a house on campus and has more a social aspect than many other SAI chapters at different colleges.
There are also many people in SAI and PMA who are NUMB, hence the NUMB-Mu-Alpha-Iota social group name. This Venn-diagram of social group was one made my experience in PMA so much more than just hanging out with boys. SAI as part of our fraternal family gave balance to everything we do, and we did the best we could to help out SAI.
One time SAI organized a dance party with another fraternity on campus. Me and other PMA guys weren’t planning on going until a call from Heather, one of my best friend and SAI’s social chair at the time. The party was dead and the brothers of that frat were either out or playing video games, so she asked me if we could help. Ten minutes later, most of my frat was at that frat house bringing the party back to life.
SAI many times was the life of our parties. We could always depend on their support for our events no matter how poorly planned or communicated. One of my favorite things that the girls would do is come to our Rush events. These events were supposed to be for only boys but they would come and turn our informational meeting into a real social event. They would ask silly but sometimes helpful questions and broke the ice with many of these prospective members in a way none of us could.
There were some people of both houses who resented the relationship between the houses. Some boys felt that we should branch out to other sororities. My read of this was that these were guys who made a couple too many bad moves dating a girl in SAI and had an unsalvageable reputation. There were girls in SAI who weren’t interested in hanging out with us. Some girls join a sorority to get away from boys, so I understood that. College boys can really suck and be annoying. So there were those who kept to themselves during joint events.
The vast majority of members of PMA and SAI enjoyed the relationship between the houses. We were similar enough in our political structure that many of us could work together on projects but different enough that comparisons between these two groups could be disregarded if they got in the way of discussions.
Like two people in a long-term relationship there were times when things were really great between PMA and SAI and times when things were a little rockier. Some of this had to do with who was in charge. My freshmen year, the people on e-boards (executive board committee) in both groups would coordinate dates to make sure conflicts didn’t happen and sent out invites well ahead of time.. The e-board after them didn’t interact with SAI as directly and things soured a little bit. No one did anything deliberately vindictive, it was just that the people on the different e-boards were not as good friends, and therefore weren’t as excited to work together.
When my class got into power the social ties we had formed in NUMB and as underclassmen in PMA and SAI led to joint events and planning for individual events that took into consideration for the other organization.
There was a sense that there were things that these organizations could do together like have a joint music recital but things that we could not do like have a joint formal (dinner dance). But years after I left, they had a very successful joint formal, so who’s to really say what can or cannot be done.
SAI was my second home I spent so much time there that they sisters were never surprised to see my hanging out. It’s impossible for me to talk about my brothers in PMA without talking about the girls in SAI who were part of my life as a frat boy.
For me, SAI was part of the package deal that came with joining PMA. While others argued that we were not the same organizations, I always felt that SAI and PMA were one big family.
SAI challenged my brothers and I to be more organized, to strive to do things better and to be better men. This started with my first pledge party hanging out with the girls who came to welcome us to the family and has continued to this day with Diana, a sister of the SAI, who has never let this frat boy settle for being anything less than a man.
Friday, July 18, 2014
Frat Boy: From Some Other To A Brother - Part 2
Here’s a link to Northwestern’s hazing policy, which was revised towards the end of my undergraduate time on campus. We didn’t do anything that is described in that opening paragraph. There was no infringement on “personal liberty,” no harassment and no one was ridicule significantly in my frat’s pledging process.
The examples of “such activities and situations may include, but are not limited to, the following” include things we did in marching band, in my fraternity, and even in the classroom with my own students like:
These listed activities aren’t necessarily hazing. Asking my 8th graders to do a scavenger hunt around the school to find references to music in certain pieces of art that are displayed on campus isn’t hazing. Zip-tying a pyramid of folding chairs on someone’s bed in retaliation for them putting french fries in your sheets as a prank isn’t hazing. Inviting members of marching band to a dance that bleeds into normal sleeping hours isn’t hazing and taking one mug at a time from one classroom to another over a period of months isn’t hazing.
But these things could be hazing if they are interpreted as causing some kind of negative feelings with the person involved.
Hazing is deplorable. Kids getting alcohol poisoning or getting beat up physically to join a fraternity is crazy. But if you go go with this policy about hazing (which is not unique to Northwestern), than almost anything you do as part of a group can be interpreted as hazing.
We need to have strict policies about these things but we also need to understand that there is a big difference between literally water-boarding someone with vodka and having them go on a scavenger hunt to find university landmarks.
It’s kind of like the porn vs. fine art argument, you know it when you see it but unfortunately not enough people can make this distinction, so the university has to come down hard. I see the core distinction about hazing not in the list of activities but with the intent to hurt implied in the first paragraph.
The reasons we were asked to do the activities we did as pledges was to help us bond, to give us shared experienced that helped us understand the values of Phi Mu Alpha. It worked. By the time initiation came about, everything about the fraternity made more sense. There was a reason our seal looked a certain way and there was a even reason our letters were Phi, Mu and Alpha.
All of the symbolism and metaphors melded together describe not only what it meant to be a brother of this fraternity but what it meant to be a man. These themes have stayed with me and have become such a part of my inner monologue, I sometimes forget that these statements of values came from PMA.
Even if I wasn’t sworn to secrecy, I wouldn’t tell you the details of our initiation. I don’t want to spoil it for those who may someday go through this amazing ceremony. It defined what it meant to be in a fraternity, it was mysterious and beautiful and it spoke to the truth of what we believed was most sacred to ourselves as brothers and as men in society.
This ceremony was a gift that I was fortunate to give to many other pledge classes and even though I loved every time I got to be part of it, it never replaced the grandeur of the first time.
After the ceremony was done, I was brother of Phi Mu Alpha. I had a group of brothers who swore loyalty that night to our fraternity and each other. For the first time in my life, I was truly a member of a larger social group. I had no idea how long these bonds would last or how much that time with those men would mean to me. But these memories lasted me thirteen years and have impacted me enough to write these words.
Not bad work for a bunch of frat boys.
The examples of “such activities and situations may include, but are not limited to, the following” include things we did in marching band, in my fraternity, and even in the classroom with my own students like:
- quests, treasure hunts, scavenger hunts
- engaging in stunts and buffoonery
- late work sessions or activities that interfere with scholastic activities and/or normal sleeping hours
- removing public or private property
These listed activities aren’t necessarily hazing. Asking my 8th graders to do a scavenger hunt around the school to find references to music in certain pieces of art that are displayed on campus isn’t hazing. Zip-tying a pyramid of folding chairs on someone’s bed in retaliation for them putting french fries in your sheets as a prank isn’t hazing. Inviting members of marching band to a dance that bleeds into normal sleeping hours isn’t hazing and taking one mug at a time from one classroom to another over a period of months isn’t hazing.
But these things could be hazing if they are interpreted as causing some kind of negative feelings with the person involved.
Hazing is deplorable. Kids getting alcohol poisoning or getting beat up physically to join a fraternity is crazy. But if you go go with this policy about hazing (which is not unique to Northwestern), than almost anything you do as part of a group can be interpreted as hazing.
We need to have strict policies about these things but we also need to understand that there is a big difference between literally water-boarding someone with vodka and having them go on a scavenger hunt to find university landmarks.
It’s kind of like the porn vs. fine art argument, you know it when you see it but unfortunately not enough people can make this distinction, so the university has to come down hard. I see the core distinction about hazing not in the list of activities but with the intent to hurt implied in the first paragraph.
The reasons we were asked to do the activities we did as pledges was to help us bond, to give us shared experienced that helped us understand the values of Phi Mu Alpha. It worked. By the time initiation came about, everything about the fraternity made more sense. There was a reason our seal looked a certain way and there was a even reason our letters were Phi, Mu and Alpha.
All of the symbolism and metaphors melded together describe not only what it meant to be a brother of this fraternity but what it meant to be a man. These themes have stayed with me and have become such a part of my inner monologue, I sometimes forget that these statements of values came from PMA.
Even if I wasn’t sworn to secrecy, I wouldn’t tell you the details of our initiation. I don’t want to spoil it for those who may someday go through this amazing ceremony. It defined what it meant to be in a fraternity, it was mysterious and beautiful and it spoke to the truth of what we believed was most sacred to ourselves as brothers and as men in society.
This ceremony was a gift that I was fortunate to give to many other pledge classes and even though I loved every time I got to be part of it, it never replaced the grandeur of the first time.
After the ceremony was done, I was brother of Phi Mu Alpha. I had a group of brothers who swore loyalty that night to our fraternity and each other. For the first time in my life, I was truly a member of a larger social group. I had no idea how long these bonds would last or how much that time with those men would mean to me. But these memories lasted me thirteen years and have impacted me enough to write these words.
Not bad work for a bunch of frat boys.
Friday, July 11, 2014
Frat Boy: From Some Other To A Brother - Part 1
In the process of becoming a member of Phi Mu Alpha, I rushed the frat, I was a pledge, I went through an initiation process.
Much of the process of becoming a brother is what we would define as “super-secret boy stuff.” I’m going to stick to my fraternal vows and I’m not going to write an exposé about my frat, but I am going to go through the broad strokes and talk about what it was all about.
Rushing is the process in which you get to know a fraternity. The sorority rush process has the girls formally go from one house to another house in organized groups. The boys have it a lot easier. Rush events are posted on billboards and guys go to whatever events and/or houses appeal to them.
These events normally happened in the evening and they included various activities and food. Some examples include: video game night, broom ball, demolish a car with baseball bats, house party and a three on three basketball tournament. These nights are fairly chill and are designed for brothers and their guest to get to know each other.
Guest would sign up when they came to these events and at the end of the rush week, the members of the frat would meet and go down the list of guys who showed up and decide which ones they would offer a bid too. If a guy showed up to one event and didn’t make a positive impression on any of the guys, he probably wouldn’t get a bid.
Discussions about who would or would not get a bid behind closed doors could get intense but it was not as bad as the conversations around deciding whether someone should be allowed to become a full member of the fraternity. There were at least two different points in the process during which fraternity could vote on whether a pledge should continue the process to becoming a full brother.
I’d like to think that I was around enough that giving me a bid wasn’t that big a deal. I felt like that I made a good impression to the group and that getting a bid was a pretty sure thing.
Late one night, a knock came on my door room door and five members of Phi Mu Alpha in suits gave me a sealed envelope inviting me to become a pledge or more officially a probationary member.
After accepting, I was required to come to a pledging ceremony and then the pledging process began.
There were two brothers in charge of our fraternity “education.” They gave us a binder which including a bunch of different activities that would help us get to know the fraternity and its members. At the end of the pledging process we had a test that we had to pass to be considered for full membership, so we studied the history of the fraternity and the political structure of the fraternity.
My pledge class was great. It was mostly freshmen, like myself from marching band with a couple upperclassmen. Every single activity we did as a pledge class gave us awesome shared experiences that helped us get to know each other and the spirit of Phi Mu Alpha.
Were we pressured to participate in these “shared experiences?” Yes, in the sense that if we wanted to be in the fraternity we would participate in fraternity activities. Was I ever pressured to do anything that caused physical discomfort or harm?
No.
Was I hazed as a pledge and did I haze other students when I was an upperclassman?
No.
Well then, what is hazing if not some kind of initiation right?
Northwestern has an answer and so do I . . .
Much of the process of becoming a brother is what we would define as “super-secret boy stuff.” I’m going to stick to my fraternal vows and I’m not going to write an exposé about my frat, but I am going to go through the broad strokes and talk about what it was all about.
Rushing is the process in which you get to know a fraternity. The sorority rush process has the girls formally go from one house to another house in organized groups. The boys have it a lot easier. Rush events are posted on billboards and guys go to whatever events and/or houses appeal to them.
These events normally happened in the evening and they included various activities and food. Some examples include: video game night, broom ball, demolish a car with baseball bats, house party and a three on three basketball tournament. These nights are fairly chill and are designed for brothers and their guest to get to know each other.
Guest would sign up when they came to these events and at the end of the rush week, the members of the frat would meet and go down the list of guys who showed up and decide which ones they would offer a bid too. If a guy showed up to one event and didn’t make a positive impression on any of the guys, he probably wouldn’t get a bid.
Discussions about who would or would not get a bid behind closed doors could get intense but it was not as bad as the conversations around deciding whether someone should be allowed to become a full member of the fraternity. There were at least two different points in the process during which fraternity could vote on whether a pledge should continue the process to becoming a full brother.
I’d like to think that I was around enough that giving me a bid wasn’t that big a deal. I felt like that I made a good impression to the group and that getting a bid was a pretty sure thing.
Late one night, a knock came on my door room door and five members of Phi Mu Alpha in suits gave me a sealed envelope inviting me to become a pledge or more officially a probationary member.
After accepting, I was required to come to a pledging ceremony and then the pledging process began.
There were two brothers in charge of our fraternity “education.” They gave us a binder which including a bunch of different activities that would help us get to know the fraternity and its members. At the end of the pledging process we had a test that we had to pass to be considered for full membership, so we studied the history of the fraternity and the political structure of the fraternity.
My pledge class was great. It was mostly freshmen, like myself from marching band with a couple upperclassmen. Every single activity we did as a pledge class gave us awesome shared experiences that helped us get to know each other and the spirit of Phi Mu Alpha.
Were we pressured to participate in these “shared experiences?” Yes, in the sense that if we wanted to be in the fraternity we would participate in fraternity activities. Was I ever pressured to do anything that caused physical discomfort or harm?
No.
Was I hazed as a pledge and did I haze other students when I was an upperclassman?
No.
Well then, what is hazing if not some kind of initiation right?
Northwestern has an answer and so do I . . .
Friday, July 4, 2014
Frat Boy: Why Mu Alpha? - Part 2
Four, sometimes five days I week I had marching band as a significant part of my day. This was my family. I didn’t get to know the people in my dorm because while they were doing freshman “get to know you” stuff I was out hanging out with my marching band friends.
I had chosen to live in a single in what was known as the most anti-social dorm. I chose this dorm because it had a cafeteria downstairs and I couldn’t imagine sharing a room with someone else. Little did I know that if I didn’t have marching band to help me be social and get out of that single, I might have gone crazy with loneliness.
The altos including me in all of their social outings, especially parties at the Phi Mu Alpha house.
At the first couple parties I attended, I didn’t feel like I fit in at all. The lights were turned down low, there was loud music, and the main activity besides drinking was dancing. It wasn’t until later that Heather and the girls of SAI taught me how to dance (and some of them tried to teach me how to drink).
I was horribly out of place but no one else seemed to think so. People came up to me, high-fived me, gave me hugs and welcomed me as if I belonged there. Everyone was just happy I was there. I couldn’t figure out why. I wasn’t one of them. I was just some kid. Why did they actually seem to care when I told them I was a music composition major? Were these people really that nice?
The one activity I got into was foosball. I fell in love with this game in middle school. As I approached the table, Charlie came up to join me as my partner in a doubles match.
I began to spin my men wildly as I did in middle school and Charlie calmly stopped me and explained that house rules said that you could only spin them one time around. The fact that Charlie didn’t blow up at me seemed like a big deal.
Charlie played in the low brass section in NUMB and is best described as a Chris Farley character. He was a big guy, he was a LOUD guy, but one of the most lovable and warm people I have met in my entire life. While other guys in PMA seemed like gods, he seemed like a normal down to earth guy.
Charlie was unlike any person I had ever known. He was raised on a farm and knew less about modern classical music than anyone I had ever met up until that point. The amazing thing was that he would listen to me talk about music endlessly and always seemed genuinely interested. He embraced the fact that we were so different, not by saying anything to that point but by simply showing interest in what I was into.
We lost that game horribly. Charlie kept switching from defense to offense trying to make up for my inability to play these guys at their level, but he couldn’t make up for my incompetency. As the other two guys left, I was scared. I didn’t know Charlie that well at that point but I did know that he was one of the best foosball players in the house and I know that he didn’t like to lose.
I looked over to him as he let his head hang down and as he raised it to look at me, instead of seeing frustration or anger, I saw a smile, “you want to play me one on one?”
Almost every night for a month, Charlie played foosball with me after dinner. He kicked my butt over and over and over, and he was always a gracious winner. Whenever we played doubles and we inevitably lost, he would always defend my abilities and never let anyone make fun of me for my lack of ability (but “your mom” jokes were fair game).
I got better, when we played doubles we didn’t loose as badly and sometime when I played him, I actually scored.
I don’t know why Charlie was so nice to me. Maybe it’s because someone was nice to him when he was a freshmen. Maybe there was something in me that made him think of himself as a freshmen. Or maybe it’s because, Charlie is simply a great guy.
I like to think it’s because of that last reason.
*****
The gods showed me what I wanted to be. Charlie and many other guys showed me that I was welcome. When I asked those senior girls in SAI who took care of me what they though me about rushing PMA, they all encouraged me to do so. That was enough for me. I was going to rush PMA.
I realized the gods were mortals as I took on their roles later in my college career. We kept up the spirit of brotherhood that Charlie displayed not only for fraternity members but also for other people in our community. The sisters of SAI continued to support PMA and as a group they became some of my biggest supporters politically as a fraternity executive and personally as friends.
It was by the kindness of others that I found my place at PMA. I never figured out what I did to deserve this, but it inspired me to pass this on and do the same thing for other underclassmen as I got older and for people I encountered in the rest of my life.
I had chosen to live in a single in what was known as the most anti-social dorm. I chose this dorm because it had a cafeteria downstairs and I couldn’t imagine sharing a room with someone else. Little did I know that if I didn’t have marching band to help me be social and get out of that single, I might have gone crazy with loneliness.
The altos including me in all of their social outings, especially parties at the Phi Mu Alpha house.
At the first couple parties I attended, I didn’t feel like I fit in at all. The lights were turned down low, there was loud music, and the main activity besides drinking was dancing. It wasn’t until later that Heather and the girls of SAI taught me how to dance (and some of them tried to teach me how to drink).
I was horribly out of place but no one else seemed to think so. People came up to me, high-fived me, gave me hugs and welcomed me as if I belonged there. Everyone was just happy I was there. I couldn’t figure out why. I wasn’t one of them. I was just some kid. Why did they actually seem to care when I told them I was a music composition major? Were these people really that nice?
The one activity I got into was foosball. I fell in love with this game in middle school. As I approached the table, Charlie came up to join me as my partner in a doubles match.
I began to spin my men wildly as I did in middle school and Charlie calmly stopped me and explained that house rules said that you could only spin them one time around. The fact that Charlie didn’t blow up at me seemed like a big deal.
Charlie played in the low brass section in NUMB and is best described as a Chris Farley character. He was a big guy, he was a LOUD guy, but one of the most lovable and warm people I have met in my entire life. While other guys in PMA seemed like gods, he seemed like a normal down to earth guy.
Charlie was unlike any person I had ever known. He was raised on a farm and knew less about modern classical music than anyone I had ever met up until that point. The amazing thing was that he would listen to me talk about music endlessly and always seemed genuinely interested. He embraced the fact that we were so different, not by saying anything to that point but by simply showing interest in what I was into.
We lost that game horribly. Charlie kept switching from defense to offense trying to make up for my inability to play these guys at their level, but he couldn’t make up for my incompetency. As the other two guys left, I was scared. I didn’t know Charlie that well at that point but I did know that he was one of the best foosball players in the house and I know that he didn’t like to lose.
I looked over to him as he let his head hang down and as he raised it to look at me, instead of seeing frustration or anger, I saw a smile, “you want to play me one on one?”
Almost every night for a month, Charlie played foosball with me after dinner. He kicked my butt over and over and over, and he was always a gracious winner. Whenever we played doubles and we inevitably lost, he would always defend my abilities and never let anyone make fun of me for my lack of ability (but “your mom” jokes were fair game).
I got better, when we played doubles we didn’t loose as badly and sometime when I played him, I actually scored.
I don’t know why Charlie was so nice to me. Maybe it’s because someone was nice to him when he was a freshmen. Maybe there was something in me that made him think of himself as a freshmen. Or maybe it’s because, Charlie is simply a great guy.
I like to think it’s because of that last reason.
*****
The gods showed me what I wanted to be. Charlie and many other guys showed me that I was welcome. When I asked those senior girls in SAI who took care of me what they though me about rushing PMA, they all encouraged me to do so. That was enough for me. I was going to rush PMA.
I realized the gods were mortals as I took on their roles later in my college career. We kept up the spirit of brotherhood that Charlie displayed not only for fraternity members but also for other people in our community. The sisters of SAI continued to support PMA and as a group they became some of my biggest supporters politically as a fraternity executive and personally as friends.
It was by the kindness of others that I found my place at PMA. I never figured out what I did to deserve this, but it inspired me to pass this on and do the same thing for other underclassmen as I got older and for people I encountered in the rest of my life.
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
The War Over Childbirth
Note: I wrote this post about halfway through my wife's pregnancy. Our son Ollie is now 11 weeks old and is doing great. I saved this post for me to reconsider after Ollie was born and I feel as strong right now about my thoughts expressed here as I did when I first wrote this post.
There’s a war brewing.
It’s a battle backed by good intentions waged in documentaries, on the Internet, in books and in classes. It’s a war that men for the most part stay out of but are inevitably effected by whether they know it or not. It all boils down to one simply question: what is the best way to take care of your baby?
The prominent conflicts are:
When I watch this trailer I get angry. Here’s why.
The film makes the argument that the medical profession’s approach to childbirth is not in the best interest of the mothers and the babies. The use of drugs and the pervasiveness of Cesarean sections is a symptom of a profit driven industry. The alternative is birth centers, home births and the use of mid-wives to provide a healthier and more meaningful experience for the mother and the child.
This is the argument that this films makes, it’s fairly one-sided which is fine. As a film presenting issues that no one seems to be talking about, taking a more extreme point of view is appropriate to get the conversation started.
What makes me angry and uncomfortable is the idea that a woman who chooses not to have a home-birth, has a Caesarean section or utilizes narcotics is an inferior mother and a weaker woman. This implication is so upsetting because it implies that woman have complete control over the circumstances of the birth of their children.
There are woman who do everything right and plan to have a home-birth who end up having a Caesarian section and there are also woman who make every effort to get through birth without narcotics but just can’t take the pain. It’s not these women’s fault that they couldn’t follow through with their birth plan.
They didn’t do anything wrong.
The best advice that I’ve heard about childbirth is to learn how to control what you can control and also learn to let go of things that you can’t control. You can do your pre-natal yoga, eat a perfect diet, and do all the things that you can imagine to make your birth plan happen but at some point things may happen that you can’t control, and that’s okay.
I refuse to believe that mothers who don’t have a natural childbirth experience with their children don’t have as close bonds with their children (which is an argument that is made at the end of The Business Of Being Born). I’ve witnessed incredible bonds of love and family between parents and their adopted children and to diminish this bond because they didn’t share a natural childbirth experience is absurd and insulting.
The other thing that I have difficulty with is the argument that the medical field doesn’t have the mother’s best interest in mind. I’m sure there are morally corrupt doctors and hospitals but there are also some amazing doctors like ones who are in my family, who are 100% focused on their patients needs and their health.
I’m not trying to make an argument either way on home births, the use of narcotics, or Caesarean Sections. What I’m saying is that woman need to be thoughtful, consider the different sides of these arguments and make an educated decisions about this process. The conversation about childbirth is a great discussion that our society needs to have and I’m grateful that The Business Of Being Born got this debate going. Neither side has this thing down and they both have a lot to learn from each other.
The problem is that instead of accepting a plurality of ideas as being valid the different sides of these arguments are battling each other. This leads people to make judgments on other people and individuals, questioning the validity of their childbirth experience because of circumstances completely outside of their control.
As a husband and my wife’s best friend, I am very worried of the childbirth process. I’m doing everything I can to prepare myself for this event, but it’s hard because I know that there is so much outside of my control. My wife jokes that I’m a boy scout because I often pack things to be prepared for a variety of situations. However I’ve realized that I simply can’t prepare myself for all of the things that could go wrong and all of the beautiful things that hopefully will go right as my son enters the world.
I fear that my wife’s childbirth experience will be judged by others and that Diana will have to answer for the choices she has made to others who disagree with her. On some level, it’s already happening as people are already asking her about her birth plan.
So to quell my concerns I've told her this sentiment multiple times:
There’s a war brewing.
It’s a battle backed by good intentions waged in documentaries, on the Internet, in books and in classes. It’s a war that men for the most part stay out of but are inevitably effected by whether they know it or not. It all boils down to one simply question: what is the best way to take care of your baby?
The prominent conflicts are:
- Vaginal childbirth vs. Cesarean section
- Natural childbirth vs. birth with narcotics or an epidural
When I watch this trailer I get angry. Here’s why.
The film makes the argument that the medical profession’s approach to childbirth is not in the best interest of the mothers and the babies. The use of drugs and the pervasiveness of Cesarean sections is a symptom of a profit driven industry. The alternative is birth centers, home births and the use of mid-wives to provide a healthier and more meaningful experience for the mother and the child.
This is the argument that this films makes, it’s fairly one-sided which is fine. As a film presenting issues that no one seems to be talking about, taking a more extreme point of view is appropriate to get the conversation started.
What makes me angry and uncomfortable is the idea that a woman who chooses not to have a home-birth, has a Caesarean section or utilizes narcotics is an inferior mother and a weaker woman. This implication is so upsetting because it implies that woman have complete control over the circumstances of the birth of their children.
There are woman who do everything right and plan to have a home-birth who end up having a Caesarian section and there are also woman who make every effort to get through birth without narcotics but just can’t take the pain. It’s not these women’s fault that they couldn’t follow through with their birth plan.
They didn’t do anything wrong.
The best advice that I’ve heard about childbirth is to learn how to control what you can control and also learn to let go of things that you can’t control. You can do your pre-natal yoga, eat a perfect diet, and do all the things that you can imagine to make your birth plan happen but at some point things may happen that you can’t control, and that’s okay.
I refuse to believe that mothers who don’t have a natural childbirth experience with their children don’t have as close bonds with their children (which is an argument that is made at the end of The Business Of Being Born). I’ve witnessed incredible bonds of love and family between parents and their adopted children and to diminish this bond because they didn’t share a natural childbirth experience is absurd and insulting.
The other thing that I have difficulty with is the argument that the medical field doesn’t have the mother’s best interest in mind. I’m sure there are morally corrupt doctors and hospitals but there are also some amazing doctors like ones who are in my family, who are 100% focused on their patients needs and their health.
I’m not trying to make an argument either way on home births, the use of narcotics, or Caesarean Sections. What I’m saying is that woman need to be thoughtful, consider the different sides of these arguments and make an educated decisions about this process. The conversation about childbirth is a great discussion that our society needs to have and I’m grateful that The Business Of Being Born got this debate going. Neither side has this thing down and they both have a lot to learn from each other.
The problem is that instead of accepting a plurality of ideas as being valid the different sides of these arguments are battling each other. This leads people to make judgments on other people and individuals, questioning the validity of their childbirth experience because of circumstances completely outside of their control.
As a husband and my wife’s best friend, I am very worried of the childbirth process. I’m doing everything I can to prepare myself for this event, but it’s hard because I know that there is so much outside of my control. My wife jokes that I’m a boy scout because I often pack things to be prepared for a variety of situations. However I’ve realized that I simply can’t prepare myself for all of the things that could go wrong and all of the beautiful things that hopefully will go right as my son enters the world.
I fear that my wife’s childbirth experience will be judged by others and that Diana will have to answer for the choices she has made to others who disagree with her. On some level, it’s already happening as people are already asking her about her birth plan.
So to quell my concerns I've told her this sentiment multiple times:
I love you and I'm so proud of the mother that you have been throughout this pregnancy. I know that I will be so incredibly proud of you whatever path we take as our child enters our world. Nothing can change that. Before you know it we will have a beautiful baby boy in our arms and while we don't know exactly how he will come to us, I will be proud of every step we take on that path togehter.
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