When I was younger, Chuck E. Cheese was known as "Showbiz Pizza". It was the one destination that every kid dreamed of visiting.
I never had the chance to go to "Showbiz" as a child because it was so expensive--my mom could not afford to take my two sisters and I. I remember visiting my aunt Renae one summer, who lived just around the corner from Showbiz (within walking distance). My cousin Will and I decided that it would be fun to go there just once, even if we didn't have enough money for games. My aunt never minded us taking walks around the neighborhood or to the park. We thought that it was safe enough, since we were still close to the house.
Will scraped up the change he had hidden in the back of his sock drawer. We both agreed that Will would be in charge of telling his mom where we were going. With a "Mom, we're-going-out-to-play-and-we'll-be-right-up-the street", Will grabbed my arm, which jerked me forward, and we both bolted out the back door, around the oak tree,and through the iron fence. Great. Only minutes away from Showbiz!
It took all my strength to open the glass door, but once I got inside, I was captivated. My jaw dropped. It took a few seconds for my breathing to slow down. Will and I both glanced at each other with that "Aw, Man!" look in our eyes. We grabbed for each others hand and walked quickly around every inch of that place, while trying to remain inconspicous. We didn't wanna stick out like a sore thumb. After what seemed like an eternity of walking, our sneakers hugged our feet a little harder.
Now, I played games before for a quarter on the Pac-Man video game at Airhart's Corner Market down the street from my grandma's old house in Pinehurst. Sure, we could buy candy and lemon-frosted cookies for a penny, but the store only had room for one game machine. At Showbiz, games lined the walls like wallpaper, lights were flashing, machines were beeping, children were laughing and screaming, the smell of pizza wafted through the air, and the spotlight shown on prizes that kids wanted to win. At Airhartks, the only things you could count on were cheap snacks, and opportunities to get better and better at Pac-Man.
"That was fun! You wanna share a soda before we go?", Will asked as he emptied the change from his pocket.
"Yeah, let's get grape."
We took turns sipping our Welch's grape soda as we walked back home, our steps in sync with each other, avoiding the "cracks" in the sidewalk.
"I can't wait to go back" I said, reaching for the cup.
"Next time, we gone have enough money to play every game in there, Will said with conviction. That way, we can laugh and scream like the other kids in there!"
It wasn't hard for me to buy in..."Yeah, that'll be so fun! As we rounded the corner, I could see the oak tree in my aunt's backyard. "Hey, you want the last sip?," I asked, knowing the cup was empty.
"Yeah, tha-," Will started as I took off running towards my aunt's backyard.
"Hey, come back here!" he shouted after me.
I was long gone.
************************************************************************************
After leaving the library today, I asked Alani if she wanted to go to Chuck E. Cheese. As if one cue, she cups her cheeks with her hands, starts running in place, and begins to squeal with delight.
"Mommy, you're the best mommy in the world!"
As I sit here with Alani, I think about how accessible the former "Showbiz" (Chuck E. Cheese) is now for families. In terms of locale, I wish there was more than one in Columbia. In terms of affordability, it's pretty reasonable (at least the games are).
The bells, flashing lights, kids laughing and screaming, and smell of good food is all too familiar. Nostalgic, to an extent. What's funny is that every year Alani asks to have her birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese or even just to visit, I smile with a cringe in my stomach. I guess I'm holding on to hope that she'll choose a place less...well, less animated. Some place more intimate. Oh, well--wishful thinking, I guess.
From my table, I look out into the crowd and spot Alani sitting next to a childhood favorite: Barney. They're both rockin' along. She then stretches her arm out, puts it around Barney, and lays her head on his hard plastic shoulder. I couldn't hold back my smile. When the ride was over, she turns to Barney and hugs him, jumps off the ride, and runs over to me smiling, with her almost-toothless grin. I smile back at her, grateful for these innocent, childish moments that I get to witness.
Alani thinks I'm the best mommy in the world but I know that I'm the luckiest mommy in the world.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Curricular Heaven
I'm in the middle of finishing up my narrative reports and I needed a mental break. Today could not go without being appreciated (at least in print, for now).
Today, I was in “curricular heaven,” as Heidi Mills would say. My students were working hard on their cost analysis and revisions on their house project designs. I was nervous about this project because of how intense it is--not just the math, but because it will test the students' (as well as my self) level of patience and endurance. I know that they will become better mathematicians and learners because of it.
Despite the few kids who have had emotional breakdowns because of the miscues in their calculations, the need to revise, and going considerably over their budget of $150,000, they are bouncing back pretty well. It felt good to look around and see my students paired off, or in small groups, consulting with each other about their cost analyses and floor plans. They learn so much from each other. Sometimes I feel like I don’t appreciate moments like these enough.
Today, we also kicked off our poetry unit nicely by discussing "what is poetry?" There were a variety of responses: "it can be about anything; it tells stories; they rhyme (sometimes); they sometimes have a certain pattern; songs, etc. For homework, I asked the kids to bring in any piece of writing that they considered to be "poetry". We shared a piece of writing of our choice and talked about why we each think it is poetry. I was so glad to leave it as an open invitation. We shared everything from rap, songs from different genres, poetry written by my students, Maya Angelou, Shel Silverstein poems, Jack Prelutzsky poems, and other poems from authors not that well-known. I shared Tupac's poem, "The Rose That Grew From Concrete."
I will never forget the look on a few of my kids' faces when I told them that my poem was by Tupac. Only a handful of them know who he is, a couple of them had only heard of Tupac-one student thought he was still alive (I wish!) I shared with them that many people only know one side of Shakur's life--that he was a rapper and actor. Some people call him a gangta rapper. I was glad to share with them things that not everyone knows--that Tupac was a social activist (from a family of Black Panthers), poet, rapper, and actor. He attended a school for the arts in Maryland and studied jazz, poetry and other music forms.
I was surprised by how engaged my students were, especially the boys--historically, I have known boys to shy away from the word "poetry". They know that I appreciate their interests, unlike some of the teachers that taught me poetry. I shared with them my aversion to poetry at a younger age, simply because poetry was defined for me. Meanings to poems I read were prescribed. We never had opportunities to just "celebrate" written and spoken word as an art-form. Now I wish I did this regularly, like my friend Tim, who builds in language appreciation everyday.
Up next: "Who" decides what poetry is? They already understand that some writing is considered "traditional" poetry, and some isn't considered to be "real" poetry at all. So our next discussion will be, "whose voices are being heard, and whose voices are being silenced as a result of how "poetry" gets defined?" I am so blessed to have this group of students and to teach in a place where teaching what "matters" is expected and appreciated. Critical thinking and democracy in the classroom is so underrated—what would happen if our kids didn’t ask important questions like the latter (“whose voice is being silenced?”)? My prediction is that eventually "their" voices could be the ones subject to not being heard.
Today, I was in “curricular heaven,” as Heidi Mills would say. My students were working hard on their cost analysis and revisions on their house project designs. I was nervous about this project because of how intense it is--not just the math, but because it will test the students' (as well as my self) level of patience and endurance. I know that they will become better mathematicians and learners because of it.
Despite the few kids who have had emotional breakdowns because of the miscues in their calculations, the need to revise, and going considerably over their budget of $150,000, they are bouncing back pretty well. It felt good to look around and see my students paired off, or in small groups, consulting with each other about their cost analyses and floor plans. They learn so much from each other. Sometimes I feel like I don’t appreciate moments like these enough.
Today, we also kicked off our poetry unit nicely by discussing "what is poetry?" There were a variety of responses: "it can be about anything; it tells stories; they rhyme (sometimes); they sometimes have a certain pattern; songs, etc. For homework, I asked the kids to bring in any piece of writing that they considered to be "poetry". We shared a piece of writing of our choice and talked about why we each think it is poetry. I was so glad to leave it as an open invitation. We shared everything from rap, songs from different genres, poetry written by my students, Maya Angelou, Shel Silverstein poems, Jack Prelutzsky poems, and other poems from authors not that well-known. I shared Tupac's poem, "The Rose That Grew From Concrete."
I will never forget the look on a few of my kids' faces when I told them that my poem was by Tupac. Only a handful of them know who he is, a couple of them had only heard of Tupac-one student thought he was still alive (I wish!) I shared with them that many people only know one side of Shakur's life--that he was a rapper and actor. Some people call him a gangta rapper. I was glad to share with them things that not everyone knows--that Tupac was a social activist (from a family of Black Panthers), poet, rapper, and actor. He attended a school for the arts in Maryland and studied jazz, poetry and other music forms.
I was surprised by how engaged my students were, especially the boys--historically, I have known boys to shy away from the word "poetry". They know that I appreciate their interests, unlike some of the teachers that taught me poetry. I shared with them my aversion to poetry at a younger age, simply because poetry was defined for me. Meanings to poems I read were prescribed. We never had opportunities to just "celebrate" written and spoken word as an art-form. Now I wish I did this regularly, like my friend Tim, who builds in language appreciation everyday.
Up next: "Who" decides what poetry is? They already understand that some writing is considered "traditional" poetry, and some isn't considered to be "real" poetry at all. So our next discussion will be, "whose voices are being heard, and whose voices are being silenced as a result of how "poetry" gets defined?" I am so blessed to have this group of students and to teach in a place where teaching what "matters" is expected and appreciated. Critical thinking and democracy in the classroom is so underrated—what would happen if our kids didn’t ask important questions like the latter (“whose voice is being silenced?”)? My prediction is that eventually "their" voices could be the ones subject to not being heard.
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