Summer training is steaming ahead to its climactic final week. I have summer school until Thursday, two more Student Achievement Framework (SAF) Sessions on Wednesday and Thursday, and a closing ceremony Friday morning. After that, I will be free for about two and a half weeks, during which I plan to do extensive research and planning on just what I am going to teach for the upcoming year. I'm also going to look for creative projects and lessons to disperse throughout the school year.
This past week was my last long week of the summer. I finished my course work on Thursday, which means I will be free to go home after summer school this Monday and Tuesday. It was a great class, and I had a fantastic professor. I feel much less nervous about that first day of school than I did a few weeks ago. I'm astounded by how quickly this summer flew by. While I'm excited to have some free time, I am very thankful that I still have a week left of teaching summer school. That has been by far the most useful training, and I want to work on creative lessons and building student interest.
If you talk to teachers in training, they will most likely complain about the long days, the abundance of time it takes to plan lessons, and the constant demands of their training program. Let me add some color to this assessment. My last two days have been, quite literally, a walk in the park and a day at the beach. On Friday morning we had a groggy workshop on special education (some of us had a long night leading up to it). Afterwards, a decent chunk of the class made its way to Central Park, where we spent a beautiful afternoon in the shade of the Sheep's Meadow eating lunch, chatting, tossing a football, and playing with a young couple's puppy. It was a perfect afternoon. The next day many of the same people went to a beach on Long Island to soak in the sun and support our classmate Brian, who was playing in a beach volleyball tournament. It was another picture perfect day spent in good company.
Tough life, huh? The only concern I've had from the last couple days is the pink tint of my shoulders and back. And the stinging sensation that accompanies it. This week was just an encapsulation of the entire summer. While it has certainly been strenuous, it's mostly been a lot of fun. I have no complaints.
It was strange driving through Long Island yesterday and seeing the suburban side of New York. Yesterday was the first time I felt like I was living on the east coast as opposed to another city. It still strikes me as odd that I'm living in New York. It feels like I should be returning back home to Chicago at the beginning of August. I truly miss the city. Regardless, I'm enjoying my courtship with New York, and now I can add Long Island to my expanding mosaic.
What else can I say? I love getting to know all the new people I've met here in New York. I also miss everyone who reads this from Chicago and elsewhere. I hope all your summers are filled with laughter and friends. That's all I've got for today. Life's pretty grand, isn't it?
Okay, I do have one more thing. Our class had a barbecue recently and the multi-talented Bostonian Jamie Northrup took some pictures of everyone. The pictures reminded me of something, and I decided to make a new video. Here is my class at the City College of New York, in '90s theme song form:
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Taking a step back
I have so many things to say that I don't know where to begin. I've written extensively about teaching and being in the city and starting this new life, and I want to step back for a moment and ruminate about what's going on while all this is happening. It's an intriguing experience for me. I'm growing up very quickly as I develop my understanding of what it means to take responsibility for scores of students. I give the performance of being an actual adult every time I step inside the classroom, and I'm finding that if you pretend for long enough you start to believe it. I've received kudos from classmates on my "teacher stare"--the look you give when students need to stop whatever it is they're doing and start doing something constructive. I'm learning about patience and thoughtfulness and leadership. All these things are happening while I'm scrambling between trains and classrooms and happy hours and classwork and barbecues and homework. What is it that John Lennon said? "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans," right? It's like that.
So there's been heaps of growing up since I moved to New York, which is one of the reasons why I wanted to become a teacher in the first place and why I wanted to do it here. The other interesting aspect of doing it this way is that I'm away from home for the first time in my life, and I'm surrounded by people my age who are kind of like me, and we're all surrounded by this behemoth city of endless diversions. It is in this regard, as opposed to the teaching, where I imagine growing up will hit me the hardest. Teaching feels like a natural extension of my character, and while it has been difficult adjusting into that role, I still feel a harmonic balance to it all. Being on my own in the big city isn't always so harmonious.
It's hard to shake the notion that you're constantly "missing out" on things. There's so many people and so much going on in this city that no matter what you're doing it's all-too-fathomable that you could be doing something more interesting, more sociable, more . . . New York. I find myself flipping between periods of restlessness and the compulsion to be around other people, to match this city measure for measure, and periods of wanting to bring the small town to the big city. I'm just as content to share a slice of pie and a good conversation as I am to traverse the eclectic social scenes of the Village or Soho or Williamsburg. I like the small town part of me; I think it makes me more equipped to handle a place like this. I think of it as the Chicagoan in me that carries a small town mentality within the massive metropolis. The important things are to be yourself, to do what makes you happy, and to surround yourself by people who enable those things to happen.
Still, it's hard to find a balance. I felt so settled in Skokie and Evanston. I had the comforts of close friends and a supportive family. I surrounded myself with familiarity. Despite taking this major leap and trekking off on my own to a new place seemingly at the drop of a dime, I find I'm hesitant to fully put myself out there. Part of me feels nervous about coming off as boring or bizarre, but I'm usually more than capable of dispelling those nagging worries. More than anything else, I feel like I'm a novice to making it on my own, and I know I'll have to make heaps and heaps of mistakes en route to discovering new sides of myself and connecting to other people. It's difficult to reconcile how much I've already learned and experienced with how much growing up I still have yet to do. I'm absolutely terrified of all the awkward moments, the embarrassments, the heartbreaks, and the silly mistakes that lie ahead for me. I'm also excited about all the epiphanies and triumphs and moments of beauty that I hope will fall in between.
This whole experience has been awesome. The more I teach, the more I find myself endeared to these students and the more excited I become about having my own classes come fall. Being in a new place and doing something new, I find myself supremely confident and simultaneously scared shitless. The overachiever in me is taking hold in the presence of all this newness and in the absence of those sources of comfort that left me content. Going with that train of thought, I miss people, a lot. It was hard not to be in Las Vegas with Holly and the rest of my family as she celebrated her birthday. It's hard not having a good grasp of how things are going in my mom's new life as a social worker. It was very hard not being there for my dad while he was in surgery for his back. It's hard not being able to bridge the distance between so many close friends. I guess that's my life here--a little bit of everything. I realize how fortunate I am to be doing what I'm doing as well as how lucky I was for everything I had back home. Living here draws a barrage of experiences, emotions, and sensations that fly through my everyday. But I can handle it. I'm doing ok. I'm growing up.
So there's been heaps of growing up since I moved to New York, which is one of the reasons why I wanted to become a teacher in the first place and why I wanted to do it here. The other interesting aspect of doing it this way is that I'm away from home for the first time in my life, and I'm surrounded by people my age who are kind of like me, and we're all surrounded by this behemoth city of endless diversions. It is in this regard, as opposed to the teaching, where I imagine growing up will hit me the hardest. Teaching feels like a natural extension of my character, and while it has been difficult adjusting into that role, I still feel a harmonic balance to it all. Being on my own in the big city isn't always so harmonious.
It's hard to shake the notion that you're constantly "missing out" on things. There's so many people and so much going on in this city that no matter what you're doing it's all-too-fathomable that you could be doing something more interesting, more sociable, more . . . New York. I find myself flipping between periods of restlessness and the compulsion to be around other people, to match this city measure for measure, and periods of wanting to bring the small town to the big city. I'm just as content to share a slice of pie and a good conversation as I am to traverse the eclectic social scenes of the Village or Soho or Williamsburg. I like the small town part of me; I think it makes me more equipped to handle a place like this. I think of it as the Chicagoan in me that carries a small town mentality within the massive metropolis. The important things are to be yourself, to do what makes you happy, and to surround yourself by people who enable those things to happen.
Still, it's hard to find a balance. I felt so settled in Skokie and Evanston. I had the comforts of close friends and a supportive family. I surrounded myself with familiarity. Despite taking this major leap and trekking off on my own to a new place seemingly at the drop of a dime, I find I'm hesitant to fully put myself out there. Part of me feels nervous about coming off as boring or bizarre, but I'm usually more than capable of dispelling those nagging worries. More than anything else, I feel like I'm a novice to making it on my own, and I know I'll have to make heaps and heaps of mistakes en route to discovering new sides of myself and connecting to other people. It's difficult to reconcile how much I've already learned and experienced with how much growing up I still have yet to do. I'm absolutely terrified of all the awkward moments, the embarrassments, the heartbreaks, and the silly mistakes that lie ahead for me. I'm also excited about all the epiphanies and triumphs and moments of beauty that I hope will fall in between.
This whole experience has been awesome. The more I teach, the more I find myself endeared to these students and the more excited I become about having my own classes come fall. Being in a new place and doing something new, I find myself supremely confident and simultaneously scared shitless. The overachiever in me is taking hold in the presence of all this newness and in the absence of those sources of comfort that left me content. Going with that train of thought, I miss people, a lot. It was hard not to be in Las Vegas with Holly and the rest of my family as she celebrated her birthday. It's hard not having a good grasp of how things are going in my mom's new life as a social worker. It was very hard not being there for my dad while he was in surgery for his back. It's hard not being able to bridge the distance between so many close friends. I guess that's my life here--a little bit of everything. I realize how fortunate I am to be doing what I'm doing as well as how lucky I was for everything I had back home. Living here draws a barrage of experiences, emotions, and sensations that fly through my everyday. But I can handle it. I'm doing ok. I'm growing up.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Update at the week's end
The lack of content that has characterized this space over the past week is probably more telling than anything I could have written. That isn't to say nothing has being going on--it's quite the opposite. I haven't had time to write anything down. On the rare occasion when I don't have coursework to do and lesson plans to construct upon returning to my apartment (take last night, for instance), I end up collapsed on my bed and fast asleep within twenty minutes.
This week was a whirlwind. I began teaching on Monday. I am posted at the Bronx School for Law, Government, and Justice for the rest of the month teaching summer school with a teacher from the Bronx Academy of Letters, where I'll be teaching in the fall. The teacher with whom I work is also from Chicago, and this is her first time teaching summer school. I was more of an observer my first couple of days, and my teaching was all one-on-one or in small groups. I acted as something of an enforcer, if you'll believe that. After weeks of being told how stern and forceful you need to be right off the bat with a new class, she was extremely nice and lenient with the students. The class had a tendency to get out of hand, and I initially didn't think much of her management style. After a couple of days, however, they seemed to settle down with her vibe, and I realized that she was more in control than I originally thought.
Of everything I've learned this week, and believe me, I've learned a lot, the notion that you have to be yourself in front of a class has hit home the hardest. I can't let my class run wild, but I'm too laid back to be a drill sergeant. I don't want to come off as a phony. I think I'm intense enough to keep kids in line just because I care so much about their education. I'm focused on helping students to be better learners, and I don't think I'll let bad behavior get in my way.
This whole thing about being myself became clear to me after my first real teaching experience. On Thursday I was given the reins to the classroom, and I taught an hour-long lesson on determining the slope of a line. To be quite honest, I sucked. Ms. Pappas (my partner in crime) said she thought I did a great job for my first try, and I know I'm being overly hard on myself, but I really did suck. It was such a strange experience! When I taught a demo lesson several weeks ago, I could sense my excitement transferring to the students. (The content? Well, who knows....) I didn't do anything fancy, but I was able to draw out their participation, even from a student who I was told typically never spoke in class.
Thursday was completely different. I surprised myself with how long it took to create my lesson the night before. I kept worrying about it, and I had trouble sleeping. I generally never over-prepare; it's just not in my nature. Whether it's a presentation for class, studying for a test, or writing an essay, I simply don't like to expend the energy and time. This is why I always came off as the smart kid who never had to work for his accolades, but that's not the case at all. I work hard. I simply know what I need to feel prepared. Plus, when I'm making a presentation I like to have some wiggle room for improvisation. I'm better on my toes than when I know exactly what I'm going to do. So I'm a little perplexed as to why I over-worked myself for this lesson. I made a beautiful powerpoint presentation that utilized the class room's "smart board" and I filled it with plenty of visual representations of slope. But when push came to shove, I didn't feel like I taught very well.
Maybe I wasn't quite comfortable, and that transferred to the students. I'm not sure. Management wasn't much of an issue, and they were generally well-behaved. They just weren't quite 'there.' Afterwards I felt like Neo from The Matrix plummeting to the ground after failing to make his first jump across distant rooftops. The phrase "No one ever makes their first jump" rang through my ears for the rest of the day. I wasn't too discouraged because I know I'll have to take my lumps to become a good teacher, but it's hard hard not to be a little disappointed. I wanted to make my first jump. Oh, well. I'll get back on the saddle next week. I can't wait to do this again.
As for the kids, it's a hell of a challenge. They lack so many fundamental skills that even if they understand the larger concepts of algebra they can't perform the operations. It was difficult to teach slope when so many students didn't know how to plot points on a graph. One of the most difficult parts of the teaching aspect of my job is figuring out how to reach the students who don't have the basics to even begin understanding your lesson as well as the students who pretty much get it and need something more challenging. It's doubly trying when so many students need to be constantly prodded just to lift up a pencil and start working, regardless of ability. I have a tough road ahead of me.
On the same token, they're wonderful. I barely know the students in these classes, and I already find myself endeared to them. I love and hate the way they talk to each other. I admire their expressions of individuality and resent their obstinate defiance to people who genuinely want to help. I tend to like the problem kids. It's completely fascinating. I'll keep everyone posted on how the student-teacher dynamic develops over the course of the year.
This has been my life for the past week. I go through ups and downs and have tremendous learning experiences each day. And then I go to class for six more hours. Then maybe dinner with classmates. Then the train. Then I get home and want to write a blog post about all of it. Then I fall asleep, or do work. Sleeping takes precedence. Today I didn't have summer school or class, but I had to attend workshops all morning before talking curriculum for next year with the head of my math department. No rest for the weary over the weekend either because I'm taking six or seven hours of certification tests tomorrow. I imagine this sounds like I'm complaining, but I actually don't mind it. I enjoy what I'm doing, and that makes all the difference in the world.
I hope to have another post up this weekend. There's plenty of things on my mind. I've had a deeper, 'artsier' post in my head that I haven't quite been able to pen down for some time despite starting it a while ago. Perhaps you'll see it soon. I'm also going to see a play starring Bradley Whitford, Gina Gershon, and Christine Baranski tomorrow night, so I'll let you know how that goes. Bradley Whitford (The West Wing, Billy Madison) is one of my favorite actors, and Gina Gershon is just plain hot. I'm seeing the play with two friends from class. I can't express how grateful I am to be surrounded by these people everyday. I needed to borrow a calculator for the test tomorrow, and one of my classmates (the former Pittsburgh Pirates minor league baseball player) called me this evening to make sure that I had received one. These people are off the charts. I'm so lucky.
One last thing before I sign off. Holly went to Vegas earlier this week to celebrate her 21st, and she's spent the last few days with my Grandma Betty and Aunt Pat. I wish I could be there. I talked to her for awhile last night, and she couldn't have had more good things to say about them, as well as our Uncle Mike, our Aunt Kim, and our cousins Mike, Kath, and Ally. I don't get to see them very often so I'm something of an outsider to their tight-knit connection, but I miss them very much. They know how to make you feel like family, even if you're not biologically part of it. To add to what I just said, I'm something of an outsider but I never feel like one when I'm with them. It feels like I've been there for years the second I walk through their door. It's uncanny. I'm happy for Holly, and she deserves this break. It sounds like she's having a fantastic time. If anyone out there is reading this, please know that I'm thinking about you all the time.
That's it for today. I'll keep you posted as things progress. This great adventure continues to roll along....
This week was a whirlwind. I began teaching on Monday. I am posted at the Bronx School for Law, Government, and Justice for the rest of the month teaching summer school with a teacher from the Bronx Academy of Letters, where I'll be teaching in the fall. The teacher with whom I work is also from Chicago, and this is her first time teaching summer school. I was more of an observer my first couple of days, and my teaching was all one-on-one or in small groups. I acted as something of an enforcer, if you'll believe that. After weeks of being told how stern and forceful you need to be right off the bat with a new class, she was extremely nice and lenient with the students. The class had a tendency to get out of hand, and I initially didn't think much of her management style. After a couple of days, however, they seemed to settle down with her vibe, and I realized that she was more in control than I originally thought.
Of everything I've learned this week, and believe me, I've learned a lot, the notion that you have to be yourself in front of a class has hit home the hardest. I can't let my class run wild, but I'm too laid back to be a drill sergeant. I don't want to come off as a phony. I think I'm intense enough to keep kids in line just because I care so much about their education. I'm focused on helping students to be better learners, and I don't think I'll let bad behavior get in my way.
This whole thing about being myself became clear to me after my first real teaching experience. On Thursday I was given the reins to the classroom, and I taught an hour-long lesson on determining the slope of a line. To be quite honest, I sucked. Ms. Pappas (my partner in crime) said she thought I did a great job for my first try, and I know I'm being overly hard on myself, but I really did suck. It was such a strange experience! When I taught a demo lesson several weeks ago, I could sense my excitement transferring to the students. (The content? Well, who knows....) I didn't do anything fancy, but I was able to draw out their participation, even from a student who I was told typically never spoke in class.
Thursday was completely different. I surprised myself with how long it took to create my lesson the night before. I kept worrying about it, and I had trouble sleeping. I generally never over-prepare; it's just not in my nature. Whether it's a presentation for class, studying for a test, or writing an essay, I simply don't like to expend the energy and time. This is why I always came off as the smart kid who never had to work for his accolades, but that's not the case at all. I work hard. I simply know what I need to feel prepared. Plus, when I'm making a presentation I like to have some wiggle room for improvisation. I'm better on my toes than when I know exactly what I'm going to do. So I'm a little perplexed as to why I over-worked myself for this lesson. I made a beautiful powerpoint presentation that utilized the class room's "smart board" and I filled it with plenty of visual representations of slope. But when push came to shove, I didn't feel like I taught very well.
Maybe I wasn't quite comfortable, and that transferred to the students. I'm not sure. Management wasn't much of an issue, and they were generally well-behaved. They just weren't quite 'there.' Afterwards I felt like Neo from The Matrix plummeting to the ground after failing to make his first jump across distant rooftops. The phrase "No one ever makes their first jump" rang through my ears for the rest of the day. I wasn't too discouraged because I know I'll have to take my lumps to become a good teacher, but it's hard hard not to be a little disappointed. I wanted to make my first jump. Oh, well. I'll get back on the saddle next week. I can't wait to do this again.
As for the kids, it's a hell of a challenge. They lack so many fundamental skills that even if they understand the larger concepts of algebra they can't perform the operations. It was difficult to teach slope when so many students didn't know how to plot points on a graph. One of the most difficult parts of the teaching aspect of my job is figuring out how to reach the students who don't have the basics to even begin understanding your lesson as well as the students who pretty much get it and need something more challenging. It's doubly trying when so many students need to be constantly prodded just to lift up a pencil and start working, regardless of ability. I have a tough road ahead of me.
On the same token, they're wonderful. I barely know the students in these classes, and I already find myself endeared to them. I love and hate the way they talk to each other. I admire their expressions of individuality and resent their obstinate defiance to people who genuinely want to help. I tend to like the problem kids. It's completely fascinating. I'll keep everyone posted on how the student-teacher dynamic develops over the course of the year.
This has been my life for the past week. I go through ups and downs and have tremendous learning experiences each day. And then I go to class for six more hours. Then maybe dinner with classmates. Then the train. Then I get home and want to write a blog post about all of it. Then I fall asleep, or do work. Sleeping takes precedence. Today I didn't have summer school or class, but I had to attend workshops all morning before talking curriculum for next year with the head of my math department. No rest for the weary over the weekend either because I'm taking six or seven hours of certification tests tomorrow. I imagine this sounds like I'm complaining, but I actually don't mind it. I enjoy what I'm doing, and that makes all the difference in the world.
I hope to have another post up this weekend. There's plenty of things on my mind. I've had a deeper, 'artsier' post in my head that I haven't quite been able to pen down for some time despite starting it a while ago. Perhaps you'll see it soon. I'm also going to see a play starring Bradley Whitford, Gina Gershon, and Christine Baranski tomorrow night, so I'll let you know how that goes. Bradley Whitford (The West Wing, Billy Madison) is one of my favorite actors, and Gina Gershon is just plain hot. I'm seeing the play with two friends from class. I can't express how grateful I am to be surrounded by these people everyday. I needed to borrow a calculator for the test tomorrow, and one of my classmates (the former Pittsburgh Pirates minor league baseball player) called me this evening to make sure that I had received one. These people are off the charts. I'm so lucky.
One last thing before I sign off. Holly went to Vegas earlier this week to celebrate her 21st, and she's spent the last few days with my Grandma Betty and Aunt Pat. I wish I could be there. I talked to her for awhile last night, and she couldn't have had more good things to say about them, as well as our Uncle Mike, our Aunt Kim, and our cousins Mike, Kath, and Ally. I don't get to see them very often so I'm something of an outsider to their tight-knit connection, but I miss them very much. They know how to make you feel like family, even if you're not biologically part of it. To add to what I just said, I'm something of an outsider but I never feel like one when I'm with them. It feels like I've been there for years the second I walk through their door. It's uncanny. I'm happy for Holly, and she deserves this break. It sounds like she's having a fantastic time. If anyone out there is reading this, please know that I'm thinking about you all the time.
That's it for today. I'll keep you posted as things progress. This great adventure continues to roll along....
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Craving Some Good 'Donuts'
This post will be the first of what I think might be a series on what I love so much about Chicago. Think of it as a sort of large-scale public brainstorming session for when I write my great Chicago-themed novel. Just so you know, James Joyce wrote the entirety of Ulysses traveling about Europe. He never once set foot in Ireland while writing the book. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, right? Certain aspects of the city brighten and become vivid when remembering them from afar. I only mention this because I have a lot of things running through my mind, and I'm not sure how coherent this posting will be.
I'm writing because I miss Chicago. I miss Buckingham Fountain. I miss the Taste. I miss the lake and the Cubs and Pilsen and Rush Street. I might be in New York for awhile, and I might find myself quite happy here (so far, so good), but Chicago is one of the great characters in my life's story. It's difficult to say because it's only been a little over a month, but I get the feeling that I will always consider myself a Chicagoan. I'm proud of my city, proud to acknowledge it as a part of who I am.
Which brings me to my craving. I thought it was innocuous at first, but I only just now realized that it's quite nuanced. Let me divulge something to you. I might be a health-conscious marathon runner, but I have a weakness for Dunkin Donuts. Lately my desire for a buttermilk donut and medium coffee has been strong. I finally had that donut and coffee this morning (glazed because they were out of buttermilk, eh) when I accompanied my friend Beth to Penn Station. Beth was en route to Newark Airport en route to Tel Aviv. Maybe it was not having the buttermilk. I don't know. The donut experience left something to be desired.
Only fifteen minutes ago I realized that my craving ran deeper than a Dunkin Donuts buttermilk donut. I was in need of Superior Donuts. Superior Donuts is a play that premiered for review today at Steppenwolf Theatre. You can find the New York Times and Chicago Tribune reviews I just read here and here. It stars Michael McKean of Laverne and Shirley and This is Spinal Tap fame as well as budding star Jon Michael Hill. Jon Hill graduated from the University of Illinois a year before Zev, and I had the good fortune to see him on stage alongside my best buddy in the musical I Sing. I like to think I knew him "before he was famous" when in reality I probably shared two sentences of congratulations at a cast party after the show. Jon Hill is a stud, and I believe he's the youngest actor ever to be named an ensemble member at Steppenwolf. Now he's starring in the latest work from a writer who just won a Pulitzer and the Tony for best play. How 'bout them donuts?
I promise this has a point. If you read the reviews, you'll glean that the critics appreciate the fact that the playwright went back to his Chicago roots after earning international fame for his last play. Donuts might not be a staggering work of genius, but it is an honest expression of a Chicago writer's take on the dynamic of his city. It's a show that takes place in Uptown, and it is physically performed in Lincoln Park. It's about race and gentrification and changes and, best of all, those most delectable of all comestibles--donuts.
Which brings me back to my initial point. I wish I could be in Chicago right now to see Superior Donuts. New York is full of big-ticket shows with big-ticket stars, but Chicago has the best stuff. It has Second City and Improv Olympic. It has Uptown and Lincoln Park. It has the sights and sounds and people with whom I grew up. No matter how much New York has to offer, it will never be able to give me that. Tough donuts, I guess.
I'm writing because I miss Chicago. I miss Buckingham Fountain. I miss the Taste. I miss the lake and the Cubs and Pilsen and Rush Street. I might be in New York for awhile, and I might find myself quite happy here (so far, so good), but Chicago is one of the great characters in my life's story. It's difficult to say because it's only been a little over a month, but I get the feeling that I will always consider myself a Chicagoan. I'm proud of my city, proud to acknowledge it as a part of who I am.
Which brings me to my craving. I thought it was innocuous at first, but I only just now realized that it's quite nuanced. Let me divulge something to you. I might be a health-conscious marathon runner, but I have a weakness for Dunkin Donuts. Lately my desire for a buttermilk donut and medium coffee has been strong. I finally had that donut and coffee this morning (glazed because they were out of buttermilk, eh) when I accompanied my friend Beth to Penn Station. Beth was en route to Newark Airport en route to Tel Aviv. Maybe it was not having the buttermilk. I don't know. The donut experience left something to be desired.
Only fifteen minutes ago I realized that my craving ran deeper than a Dunkin Donuts buttermilk donut. I was in need of Superior Donuts. Superior Donuts is a play that premiered for review today at Steppenwolf Theatre. You can find the New York Times and Chicago Tribune reviews I just read here and here. It stars Michael McKean of Laverne and Shirley and This is Spinal Tap fame as well as budding star Jon Michael Hill. Jon Hill graduated from the University of Illinois a year before Zev, and I had the good fortune to see him on stage alongside my best buddy in the musical I Sing. I like to think I knew him "before he was famous" when in reality I probably shared two sentences of congratulations at a cast party after the show. Jon Hill is a stud, and I believe he's the youngest actor ever to be named an ensemble member at Steppenwolf. Now he's starring in the latest work from a writer who just won a Pulitzer and the Tony for best play. How 'bout them donuts?
I promise this has a point. If you read the reviews, you'll glean that the critics appreciate the fact that the playwright went back to his Chicago roots after earning international fame for his last play. Donuts might not be a staggering work of genius, but it is an honest expression of a Chicago writer's take on the dynamic of his city. It's a show that takes place in Uptown, and it is physically performed in Lincoln Park. It's about race and gentrification and changes and, best of all, those most delectable of all comestibles--donuts.
Which brings me back to my initial point. I wish I could be in Chicago right now to see Superior Donuts. New York is full of big-ticket shows with big-ticket stars, but Chicago has the best stuff. It has Second City and Improv Olympic. It has Uptown and Lincoln Park. It has the sights and sounds and people with whom I grew up. No matter how much New York has to offer, it will never be able to give me that. Tough donuts, I guess.
Monday, June 23, 2008
NYC on the Run
Hello out there,
It's been a little while since I posted anything substantial in this space, and that's not going to change today. I have some bigger ideas in my head, but they're not quite fit to print. I wanted to take this time to say rest in peace, George Carlin. Never has such a sagacious human being started an act with lines like, "Have you ever picked your butt?" He was the best.
I also figured I would share this video I made of New York City. A lot of the shots are from the streets of Astoria and Astoria Park. Some are from the Queensboro Bridge and the edge of Manhattan. The rest are from Central Park and Brooklyn. As you're watching it, keep in mind that I made the entire thing without the use of a Macintosh computer. If I had a Mac, I probably could have made it in a tenth of the time. Here's the fruits of my labor:
It's been a little while since I posted anything substantial in this space, and that's not going to change today. I have some bigger ideas in my head, but they're not quite fit to print. I wanted to take this time to say rest in peace, George Carlin. Never has such a sagacious human being started an act with lines like, "Have you ever picked your butt?" He was the best.
I also figured I would share this video I made of New York City. A lot of the shots are from the streets of Astoria and Astoria Park. Some are from the Queensboro Bridge and the edge of Manhattan. The rest are from Central Park and Brooklyn. As you're watching it, keep in mind that I made the entire thing without the use of a Macintosh computer. If I had a Mac, I probably could have made it in a tenth of the time. Here's the fruits of my labor:
Friday, June 20, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Fleeting Impressions
I went for a run this evening after my first day of teacher school, and I experienced numerous thoughts and impressions which I will share with you now.
First, it's good to run. I feel free, unencumbered. I move through the world at my own pace. It was a beautiful evening to run. The temperature was perfect. The air smelled of barbecues and youth.
Kids playing little league baseball. A rush of memories--a maroon jersey in the park, a plastic bat, my Uncle Bert announcing a star is born in the backyard. A childhood.
Sunlight streaking across Manhattan, echoing between two bridges stretched across the yellow-blue river. Light shimmering in between buildings as the sun makes its descent. Harmony.
A couple huddling together in a sleeping bag on a grassy slope watching the sun go down. Men and women bathed in sunlight kissing along railings. Slow steps in rhythm. Held hands. Loneliness.
Rejuvenation. Freedom. The sun shines for you today. Shines so brightly through the towers. A gleaming Empire. The Emerald City and the brick path before me. So many children.
The sun sets first over Manhattan and then over Hell's Gate Bridge. I say goodbye and trod home. Running. Grateful. Glorious. Peace.
First, it's good to run. I feel free, unencumbered. I move through the world at my own pace. It was a beautiful evening to run. The temperature was perfect. The air smelled of barbecues and youth.
Kids playing little league baseball. A rush of memories--a maroon jersey in the park, a plastic bat, my Uncle Bert announcing a star is born in the backyard. A childhood.
Sunlight streaking across Manhattan, echoing between two bridges stretched across the yellow-blue river. Light shimmering in between buildings as the sun makes its descent. Harmony.
A couple huddling together in a sleeping bag on a grassy slope watching the sun go down. Men and women bathed in sunlight kissing along railings. Slow steps in rhythm. Held hands. Loneliness.
Rejuvenation. Freedom. The sun shines for you today. Shines so brightly through the towers. A gleaming Empire. The Emerald City and the brick path before me. So many children.
The sun sets first over Manhattan and then over Hell's Gate Bridge. I say goodbye and trod home. Running. Grateful. Glorious. Peace.
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