Fun with the Cricut

I recently got a Provocraft Cricut die-cutting machine,and I have to say I definitely a fan. I've had fun making things for layouts and also decorations for my classroom. I wanted to share a few of them with you:

The photo is a bit dark but the cutout I made is of Hello Kitty - this was my first try at paper piecing and I quite like the result.

My husband loves Snoopy, so I made this little guy for him and he now has it on his desk.

Lastly, I made this sign for my classroom. I'm going to hang it on the door with some other things that I'm still working on. I laminated it with the Xyron Creative Station, so hopefully that made it a little more durable to withstand the school year.

Jewish Holiday Layouts

So I bought the kits from Crafting Jewish Style when they were released last year because I was excited that I finally didn't have to sift through the Christmas papers to finally get a "winter" pattern...I could finally have some real life Chanukkah paper and embellishments to work with.

This is from a Chanukah night in our apartment, and I also added a menorah and candles from Jolee's Boutique.

This was my favorite Chanukkah layout - from pictures taken while celebrating at my parents' house...I didn't want to cover up the paper with the candles so instead, I cut it in half and had it meet in the middle like a centerfold.

This layout is from Passover and I liked using my Creative Memories wavy cutter to break up the printed paper.

I am so glad that there is finally kits for Jewish holidays!

Bookmarks

Since I got a Kindle, I haven't read too many physical books, but I still love cute bookmarks. Though a book may say one thing about you, a bookmark can say something completely different. I definitely liked to use my Glinda the good witch bookmark for especially serious books, to give them a lighter edge.

My sister is away for the summer, working a theatre upstate and I forgot to give her back one of her precious Harry Potter books (book 6, for those keeping track) so I decided to make these bookmarks for her to use with HP or whatever strikes her fancy:

I used Die Cuts with a View cardstock, with an Imaginisce stamp. I colored the stamp image with EK Success chalk markers and Copic markers. I did the stitching with the Sew Easy tool.

The second bookmark was basically made with the same tools, except that the stamp is from Basic Grey. Also, both bookmarks were laminated using the Xyron Creative Station.

Happy 4th of July!

Lacy Hat and Skinny Scarf

I'm waiting to start a new knitting project until I can get some advice from the friendly folks at Lion Brand in Union Square, but I worked on these in the winter and was pleased with the result. The hat and scarf weren't originally coordinated, but they seem to go well together.

The hat is a made out of Lion Brand cashmere blend yarn and the pattern is also Lion Brand (no, I'm not being paid to advertise for them. Here is the hat modeled by own of my favorite models:

The scarf is my own pattern - just knit one row, yarn over/knit together for the second (rinse, wash repeat). It's made out of heather pink yarn from Cascade, which I bought in Pittsburgh at a shop called Dyed in Wool.

I also embellished the scarf with a small flower that I made using the rest of the cashmere blend yarn. The flower is the same pattern as this and can be found in Felted Flowers by Nicky Epstein.

Too bad both were finished as winter was ending - will have to wear it next year!

Look What I Made:

I had seen this project first on and it reminded me of my mother - a recipe/scrapbook with all the family favorites and pictures mixed together. This is my interpretation:

This was made using an American Crafts 6x6 plain chipboard album which I covered with Die Cuts with a View Nan's Kitchen paper and American Crafts Flair buttons. I covered it with a layer of Mod Podge.

My favorite page from the album was this, a photo of my mother and I at my 1st birthday circa 1982:

I used a We R Memory Keepers sticker and distressed the background cutout with Tim Holtz Crackle paint, Distress Inks and Tattered Angels Glimmer mist.

This is one of the recipes:

I really enjoyed making this book - it was my first foray into a "mini-book" and I'm happy with the result. I gave the book to my mother for Mother's day.

Book Review: Day After Night by Anita Diamant

This post contains spoilers.

I finished this book yesterday on the train, but it remains on my mind - it is one that I regret not reading in Book Club, because I feel myself longing to discuss it.. "Day After Night" is an historical fiction novel about a group of women who survived the Holocaust and who are interned at Atlit, a camp for illegal immigrants near Haifa in what was then known as Palestine. These women have traveled from Europe under harsh conditions to begin a new life, but that life is once again put off. The summary on the back of the book said the book was about four women: Leonie, Shayndel, Tedi and Zorah. However, there were many more interesting characters in the story, but those were the women whose points of view we saw the story.

All of the women survived the Holocaust, but only Zorah had been in a concentration camp. I guess I knew that there were other experiences of WWII for a Jewish European, but the concentration camp has always stood out as the most disgusting, dehumanizing experience imaginable. Not a whole lot is said about Zorah's time in the camp (I don't believe which camp was specified) but we knew it was awful. However, Leonie's story was actually the one that had the most visceral impact on me when I found out what it was. Leonie was taken as a prostitute in France to service the Nazi soldiers. The madame made it so her girls couldn't run away. There was a scene where Leonie was thinking about her past and felt compelled to stab herself with a pin so she would feel the pain.

Shayndel was a partisan, a part of the Jewish resistance during the war and had grown up with Zionist leanings. She managed to survive and make it to Palestine and the kibbutz life she dreamed of after she helped lead the breakout from Atlit. Tedi was a blonde who spent most of the war in hiding. The concentration camps are the best know scenario from the time, but Diamant made it clear that they were not the only horrors.

The novel opens and the women are not yet friends - over the course of the story, they warm to each other and eventually become the friends that you see in the picture on the cover of the book. The title, which I see as a play on Eli Weisel's Night, which was about the Holocaust is talking about the dawn of life after.

The first time in a while...

When giving advice to other people, I usually tell them that they should write when they feel upset or stressed...without, of course, taking my own advice. I had two days today - one absolutely pleasant one with one class and one absolutely miserable one with the other.

Tuesdays always feel like torture because those are the days that I have the more difficult class for 3 periods. I have to keep them quiet, in their seats and working for all that time. Before lunch wasn't terrible but after lunch was ridiculous. As soon as one quieted down, another one started. I couldn't get anything done. By the end, I didn't know what to do with myself...I mean, how much nonsense can one person actually be expected to take in exchange for a paycheck?

I was also partly embarrassed because there was someone visiting my class who I respect and I did not want her to see the class behaving like this. However, she had some insight about the behavior of at least two of the students. Also, she made a couple of suggestions which I will look into.

I feel like I am banging my head against the wall with this class so much so that I am procrastinating in planning for tomorrow because I'm so sick of them. Wednesdays are always better, since I actually only have that class for 2 periods instead of 3 but I have them for 2 periods in a row.

A Metaphor

Today I had an experience that I felt was a metaphor for my whole experience as a first year teacher at my school: The lock on my classroom had been broken for a long time and I finally complained to the AP and the custodian came to fix it...only he changed the lock to one that wasn't completely functional, but it worked well enough yesterday to serve the purpose.

However, today...I stepped out to return chart paper to my fellow teacher and I got locked out. I could not open the door. I went downstairs and both the AP AND the principal were there and I told them I couldn't get in and they said that the custodians were at lunch, and didn't seem to care.

So I went back upstairs and kicked my door until the lock broke.

Now, this metaphor can be seen in a couple of ways. Trying to teach my kids is sometimes like banging on a door that won't open...and then all of a sudden it does. The lack of support in my school is sometimes like banging against a closed door...I could go on.

Of course, now my door is broken again. But one kid asked what happened and I said I broke it and he said, "Damn Ms. Salisch, you strong."

Just a Kid

After some drama at school this Friday, involving one of my most challenging students (oh who am I kidding? They're all challenging), I kept thinking about no matter what these kids do, they still really just kids and I feel like in our quest to get them to behave and learn, we forget that.

Two of my students were having a fight on Friday and one of them came back in my room very upset. I sat at my desk quietly watching him, not sure what he was going to do because he's been known to turn over desks and such when he's upset. I was eating grapes and I offered him some and he just cracked. He just started crying. I must admit, I was taken aback...I mean, this student is kind of a bully and to see this tough, older kid break down definitely got under my skin.

I knew that he had had some trouble with the law already and he was afraid he was going to be suspended and that his mother was going to beat him up. That's a lot for a young teenager to have on their shoulders. Plus he's in Special Ed, can barely read or multiply...but somehow that seems irrelevant when he doesn't feel comfortable in his own house.

Another kid told me how all his little cousins were visiting and that he was in charge of taking care of the boys and they were all staying at his apartment. What kind of world does this kid live in that he has to watch kids on his weekend when he himself is only a kid?

I again feel how lucky I was to grow up the way I did and how I can't imagine going through what these kids go through on a daily basis. No wonder they can't behave.

An Eventful Year

I'm not really one to get reflective around the holidays...I usually do that on the High Holy Days. But what I can tell you, with 7 more school days until our much-needed winter break, is that this year has been one of the most eventful in my life. It started out with me trying to make things work at Vh1, with little success (no thanks to the nasty, vindictive women I worked with...that, by an ironic twist of fate, led them both to quit before me)...and I didn't know what I wanted to do next month, let alone in five years.

I didn't apply for the Fellows on a whim. It was something I'd thought about a few times and always said, "Later." Somehow "later" became "why not now?" One weekend my mother came over to my apt and we revised my essay and I handed it in. I got selected for an interview in March. Two days before the interview, I lost my grandmother. I rescheduled, sure I was dooming myself to losing out on the program if I did so. I walked to a school in Union Square early on a Saturday morning in a black pants suit, wearing black shoes and barely keeping from slipping on the ice. I gave a good performance. That's what it was, a performance. I had no idea how a teacher prepared or taught a lesson. So I did what I thought a teacher would do.

My parents were in London when I got the acceptance email in April. I was excited, scared and everything in between. It took me awhile to accept because I had to figure out how I would survive the summer on just a stipend. It also happened that I inherited money from my Grandmother. It's weird to think that she would be proud of me if she was here, but I wouldn't have been able to do this without the money she left me.

I quit my job. My new boss tried to make me stay. I cried after I quit. I was scared that I had made the wrong decision and scared that I'd made the right one, scared that I had just wasted 3 years of my life doing something I had never cared about. Scared that now I knew what I wanted to do. I went to the welcoming event at Lincoln Center. I love Lincoln Center and I get excited to go there for any reason. So I went there that Monday and watched the show that was prepared for us. I remembered my earlier school visits and thinking, "Can I really do this?"

LIU, training, heated discussions about race, disability, you name it. Everyone in the program is so smart and has so many opinions that we're all anxious to have them heard. Summer school was a dose of reality but I felt lucky to be working with another fellow, Johanna, that I ended up getting along with. Training was like camp, we all got close in a really short period of time...and now we don't see half those people anymore.

The fear of not getting a job was overwhelming as training ended. People have told me that they had many offers...I didn't. I had one offer. That was all I needed. I am now working in my 12:1:1 class with unruly 6th and 7th graders and trying to make them stop trying to kill each other long enough to teach them something. I've come a long way, but I've only just started. I feel a direction that I didn't before. I know that when I finish LIU that I want to finish my history major and take arts education classes. Even if I'm not in front of a class all the time, I know this is where I belong.

A Stuff Person

So my book club and I read this book called the Mole People by Jennifer Toth which details the author's experiences talking with and getting stories from the homeless that live in the tunnels under New York City.

Whenever I read something like that or watch something, like Morgan Spurlock's 30 Days episode where he and his fiance lived on minimum wage for a month, I stop and look around myself, at all the things I have. These people are just trying to survive one way or the other. They take what they can get. I expect, in fact, feel entitled to the apt I live in, in a good neighborhood. I have collections, like my books and movies which I take for granted. I take guitar lessons and belong to the gym and have cable. These people have nothing.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not planning on giving these things up. Those are the things I spend my money on just as the people who live in tunnels spend their money on what they choose when they have it. But I wonder how certain things happen to certain people. I do think the author was naive in her research. She ended up finishing because of a couple different incidents that happened in the tunnels.

The people who live in the tunnels are a different from, say, starving artists...starving artists choose that life....in a lot of cases it seemed like homelessness chose them. I couldn't imagine living that kind of life, what it does to you, how it makes you feel and behave. I would never want to.

Without you, the ground thaws...

You know, Jonathan's words can be just so profound sometimes.

Yesterday I had to do something really hard. I had to say Yizkor for my Grandmother for the first time. On Yom Kippur, we have a memorial service where we say prayers or meditate on our lost loved ones.

It was hard because it's still weird to think of her as not here with us. I wear her diamond ring, the ring that she always wore and she held my hand with thousands of times. I remember when we lost my aunt, I went in to see the casket and Grandma came with me and she was quite upset. Things like that always took her back to losing my grandfather.

It's so ironic too because she would have been totally behind my joining the Teaching Fellowship, but without the money she left me, I would not have been able to do it. So I like to think she helped me through it, somehow.

She used to drive us nuts, but in the end we knew it was because she loved us and we loved her. The world seems smaller now that I have one less person around that loves me.

But as always, life goes on. We change careers, me fall in love, we get puppies and have babies...and wonder what the reactions would be of the people who aren't here with us.

1 Week Down...

"The first year is the hardest."

"A lot of teachers drink."

"You feel like a failure."

"I used to go home and cry everyday."

"You have good days and bad days."

Well, there you have it. One week down, many more to go. The first three days were ok. Today, not so much. I could not get my students to do anything. I felt completely helpless and I didn't know what to do. I was having a "what am I doing here" sort of morning.

It started out ok enough, I got them to do a couple things but by the time we got to Math class, they were out of control and nothing I did or said could change that. I felt ineffectual and in experienced...both of which I was right at that moment. I wa snot sure how to combat it. The boys could tell and of course took advantage.

I gave a couple of different assignments and asked them to hand them in. On both accounts, I received only three. During lunch, I kinda lost it, at least while I was on my own but then I looked for a fellow teacher to ask him something and he saw me upset (mostly because he asked if I was upset and then I lost again and I felt like a moron. I don't like being upset in front of people, least of all, people I don't know well.)

At least toward the end of the day I had a debriefing session with two other teachers and I found they were in the same boat, frustration-wise as myself. But the question still remains, what to do about it? I don't remember anyone behaving in my schools the way these kids behave in class. Maybe because I was in a suburban school. Maybe because I was in some of the honors classes. Who knows?

I wouldn't go back to sitting behind a desk. But can I become the person these kids need me to become in order for all of us to succeed? We'll see.

"Everyone Knows Who Those Kids Are"

I finally found a position at a school in Crown Heights, Brooklyn - one of the few places you'll probably see Chasidim and African Americans in the same neighborhood...I will be teaching a self-contained 7th grade class...I saw my classroom a couple days ago and reality began to sink in. At least I haven't started to panic - not yet. Not when I looked on my list and saw most of my students are boys...or when another teacher mused "everyone knows who those kids are" - something I'm not a terribly big fan of; I'd rather not go into class the first day with the preconception that all these kids are bad.

I feel like I'm in a stolen season of a couple weeks, where anything is possible, before we all show up the first day of school and I may or may not still believe that. It's like the time between getting asked out and actually going on the date - you play out all scenarios in your head of what could happen and hope for the best. I may sounds idealistic, but I don't think you could become a Fellow without some idealism.

Now that I'm part of a bona fide staff and know where I'm going to be, I can enjoy my stolen season and see where this path takes me.

Almost There

Four more days. In four days, the first phase of journey that I have embarked upon will close and the next will open, leaving me as terrified as ever. And as exhilerated. I am working harder now than I ever worked at Fox or MTVN, and I'm fine with it. I want to do it. I have a job to do.

I have this paper to write about my personal perspective on disability and I am delaying writing it. I am delaying it because all the knowledge I've gained in the past 7 weeks is difficult to sum up, but also because...there's just so much more to know.

And I know this sounds like I'm making it about me when it's about the students. The students I've already met, and the ones that I will meet in September and the September after that. I have to square my shoulders for the burden of being a leader to these students, some of which might not know how to read and write.

We spoke about our hopes early in the program, and I can honestly say that one hope i Have for my students is that they learn to love reading and writing as much as I do, even if I have to read every book to them. I hope that they learn why the Constitution is important, how to add decimals and what a virus is. I hope that my efforts will not be in vain.

I was inspired when we went around the circle our first day in class, relating our previous lives and telling why we joined the program. We are all so different, but alike. I would not have crossed paths with these people had I not become a Fellow. I am thankful to be in a group of such passionate and incredibly smart individuals who have come together for a common purpose.


I haven't gotten to write much during training, about the experience or otherwise. But I feel as though the dam will break soon and i['m looking forward to it.

Awakening in Spring

When I saw Spring Awakening last month, I didn't immediately love it. I enjoyed it, but I thought the second act was ballad heavy and didn't rock hard enough and that the man story took too long to develop. I bought the CD soon after, and I can't stop listening to it. There is something in the music that keeps drawing me back - lyrics, voices, imagery - it's something different each time. And it's not even the same song that gets stuck in my head each time...it's usually different.

The show has since won several Tony's and thus increased in popularity and visibility, which it deserves. The cast is wonderful. And the story events, set in the repressed German society in the 1800s all goes back to the simple question "Where do babies come from?" The mother's point blank refusal to answer this simple question sets the plot in motion. How can a girl know if she's having sex if she doesn't know what sex is?

It's hard to fathom this in our culture. Children are learning about sex younger and younger and that's both good and bad. Wendla, the main female character in the play, did not know what she was doing. It's all there in the lyrics (which, by the way, are in present day vernacular). The imagery in the lyrics is beautiful, invoking the images of a blue angel seducing the boys.

The boys, Melchior - the one who is too smart for his own good and draws the wrath of his faceless elders by creating a sex manual, and Moritz, the suffering, school challenged one whose wild hairstyle is the manifestation of his inner termoil, are incredible characters. I felt most drawn to Moritz, especially in light of my recent studies, who expresses himself in electric-guitar highlighted songs and voices the confusion and frustration that many teens can identify with.

The most underdeveloped character that I found most interesting is Ilse, a girl who lives outside the society of the rest; a runaway who has more freedom than all of the rest put together. Ilse appears in the first act to sing a duet about being sexually abused but then offers Moritz an alternative to suffering at school, which he ultimately rejects.

The songs are sung as an interior monologue of the characters, with pulsing sexuality under their demure dresses and school uniforms. I would love to see the show again now that I know more about it and won't be looking for it to be something it's not. I have never seen a Broadway show more than once except for Rent (which is coming up again :oD)...but this one would be well worth the second look...as long as the original cast is still around.

The Next Chapter

So tomorrow I start work on my Masters degree in education with the New York Teaching Fellowship...Learning how to be a teacher in seven weeks seems like a daunting task, but it's been done, so why can't I do it?

When I walked out of my job for the last time on Thursday, I felt nothing. My nerves were somewhere in the back, ready to ignite and I can say with certainty that they have come to life. But at a that moment, when I walked out of corporate America, I felt empty. But without the knowledge that I had to come back. That was a relief. After the way I was treated there, I am was relieved that those people left and even more relieved to get out. My new boss was upset that I was leaving, but she realized it had nothing to do with her. There is nothing I will miss about being a research analyst. Nothing. The words always stuck in my throat when I was asked what I did. Now I will be able to say with condition: I'm a teacher.

Andrew's Interview

In which Andrew Saltman, a character of mine, gets interviewed about his big, new Broadway show:

I catch up with Andrew Saltman at a small diner in Soho. He sits across from me, all charm and poise but also quiet and unassuming; different from the last time we spoke but I suppose a starring role in a buzz-laden new musical would change any person. I met Andrew for the first time when he was playing Mark in Rent, his first Broadway role, when did a re-review of the show. He was in awe of it all, but he says he’s grown up since then. “It was a lot to live up to, you know? I grew up wanting to be Mark, but I could never be Anthony Rapp’s Mark. I had to inhabit the guy for myself.”

Since then, Andrew has won an Obie award for his portrayal of JT in Different a moving portrayal of a teen coming out and surviving against the odds. The play was produced by Andrew’s mentor Tom Gordon, who recently passed away. He’s tried to look at thing positively, drawing on the feelings of loss for his portrayal of Evan McCormack in Summer in the City. “It’s the story of a guy trying to make the most out of his life before he’s gone.” Andrew says of his role in the upcoming musical. The show’s story centers on Evan, a cubicle dweller who learns he has one more summer to live then goes out and makes the most of it. This vibrant musical had a sold out run at the New York Theatre Workshop this spring and opens on Broadway on June 10.

“It’s kind of a surreal experience.” Andrew says of the show. He auditioned for Jason Brown, the show’s auteur, in the early stages of the script and has been with the project ever since. “This show is Jason’s baby, but in a way it’s mine too and (his co-star) Brooke’s and we are all really passionate about being a part of it.” The show uses its poignant tale and weaves in rock music, Savion Glover-style tap and some Stomp- inspired shtick to make the show much more than it could have been. Andrew was game, he even learned how to tap dance a cappella for the show’s Act I closer. “I learned tap in high school, but I was never really good at it…this is different, it’s not supposed to be pretty. It’s me tapping out my feelings instead of singing.”

Andrew, not Drew ever or Andy to anyone except his closest friends, eats his eggs thoughtfully and asks how my food is. I smile and tell him it’s good and he smiles. “I like to come here to chill or to learn my lines.” he muses. When I ask him about his love life he fixes me with his bright blue stare and grins mischievously. “If I told you, then you’d know.” he says. Rumor has it that he is seeing a city politician which he neither confirms nor denies. He wags his finger at me “You know I’m not going to talk about that.” I had to ask, I tell him. He nods. “I don’t blame you for trying.”

Turning the conversation back to the show, I mention the buzz the show has been getting and how the show, Jason Brown and Andrew, in turn have all been dubbed Broadway’s next big thing at one point or another. “Do you all feel a lot of pressure?” I ask him. He answers thoughtfully, carefully measuring his words. “It’s best for us as performers to focus on the show and not let outside pressure seep in. The pressure we put on ourselves is something else entirely, since Jason wrote us beautiful songs, we want to do him and the show justice by being at our best.” Being the best takes a lot, Andrew acknowledges. He doesn’t stay out late or drink or do anything that might adversely affect his performance, but it’s worth it to him to have that discipline so he can perform to his own standard. “I’m hard on myself. I think all performers are and that’s where the pressure comes from.”

“Who do you hope will come opening night?” I ask him as we finish our brunch. Something flickers across his face that I can’t quite read and he says, “My family.” I don’t pursue the subject and we pay and leave. On the street, he is his exuberant self again, exclaiming over a dog that is tied up outside the diner. Andrew crouches to scratch his ears and then looks up at me. “I hope everyone comes opening night.” he says.

Myself at 80

One of the writing exercises I came across was how you thought you would be at 80:

At 80, I hope to be independent, lucid and content. I suppose at that age, I'd be a bit world-weary...not a constant yearning for the good old days, but slight sense of loss that things have changed and I have stayed the same. I hope to love and be loved, with a husband, children and grandchildren as a large part of my life. I also hope to be involved in community activites like at the Temple, and to continue to be curious about the world. I hope to have many friends and travel. I hope to be active, still visiting the gym regularly even if all I do is stretch and people will ask in disbelief, "How old are you?" And I will smile and tell them and they will be surprised.

I plan to spoil my grandchildren and spend time with them whenever possible. I will be a confidant to my children. I will continue to write journals, screenplays, whatever strikes my fancy. I will record the events of my own life as I do now and take pictures.

That is how I picture myself at 80.

Skeptic

So it's been a while since I've posted anything mostly because I joined this writing circle a few weeks ago and as part of the program, we're supposed to write "morning pages" everyday...So I've been a little tapped out when it comes to reflection these past few weeks.

The writing program is based on this book and the idea that we're 'blocked artists' and we have to recover our inner artist. The last chapter in the book was about affirmation and affirming that you're, in fact, an artist. I didn't really relate to this as I know I'm a writer; I don't need some book to tell me that. I'm a writer because I write...not necessarily because I make a living doing so, but right now, that's ok. I also don't know about being a 'blocked artist,' I don't necessarily see myse;f that way, either...However, in this week's chapter, the book talked about how being skeptical can inhibit your artistic impulses, and since I am a pretty skeptical person, I'd tend to agree. The book also encourages the idea that not all writing has to be 'good,' it just has to be 'writing'...that's the point of the free-writing.

I did free-writing in classes in college and never really got into it...but now I feel it's important to set aside 20 minutes a day to write, no matter what you write about. In fact, it doesn't have to be about anything...it just has to be writing.

I'm also not big on writing about writing, but soemtimes its helpful to find out what gets you going. So I'll go to the group tonight, with the goal reached of allotting time everyday for writing, even if it's song lyrics to fill up the 3rd page of my free-writing...As for being a blocked artist, I still don't know about that one...but I'll let you know if I get 'unblocked.'