Enough?

This picture is enough for me.

What is enough?

Time with my loved ones. Time to myself. Hours in the day. Money in the bank. This isn’t a new question for me. It’s one I revisit from time to time. It’s one I like to pause and think about. It was the recent loss of Steve Jobs that inspired the reflection this time. This man not only changed the way we communicate; he changed the way we think, the way we think about the way we think and communicate. His death led to an array of inspirational Facebook status updates, reminding us all to be creative, try, never give up, don’t let failure stop us, be true to our heart’s song, and think outside the box. The world mourned the loss of a great man. I have to admit, I didn’t know his name before he died. I Googled him.  It’s true. The first posting about his death I read on Facebook led me straight to Google. I clicked on that first Wikipedia link and thought, “Oh! That’s who that is. How sad.”

Not long after, I saw this:

I didn’t need to Google anyone to understand.

Then  I saw this:

At first, I was offended by this one, but I wasn’t sure why. I thought about it. I realized, it was because I felt it was disrespectful to Steve Jobs’ survivors.  Then I thought, maybe I’m offended because I feel guilty, and I began to wonder. Is it possible to get so lost on our own individual path that we forget to look around us? Have I forgotten to look around me? Do we get carried away with wanting more and forget to see how much we have? Have I become selfish? Are we really successfully living in a world where international news is literally a nanosecond click away, thanks to the man on the left, yet we ignore the reality in the photo on the right? (There’s something ironic in that, isn’t there?) What do I know about the world today? At times, I think I am choosing to live in the neatly enclosed bubble I created.

I am blessed. I am privileged. Regardless of the number of times I get caught up and think I need more, I am among the rich of this world.  Seriously, what are my daily concerns?

Will I oversleep and be late to work?

Will the pool be installed by the time the weather turns hot?

Will there be enough hours in my work week to get done what I am responsible for?

Is there gas in my car?

Is there coffee?

Do I have clean underwear? (ok, not really a legitimate thought, but it’s about the caliber of concern listed here, so it fits.)

What if. What if I had to worry about where my child will sleep at night? What if I had to worry about medical care for myself or my loved ones? What if I had to live in constant fear for my safety? What if I was illiterate?

Enough wealth? Measured in what way? Evaluated by whom? Do you have enough? Could you give more? Could you live more simply?

Trying to be productive…

This will be short. I am in month 3 of a new job, new house, new schedule, new everything. I keep using the excuse that I am adjusting for the times when I feel less productive. What is the statute of limitation on adjusting time? I now struggle with the battle of self-destruction. I should be adjusted by now. I should have accomplished more today. I should…blah blah blah.

Enough of the should have. I am DOING.

So although I am hungry for another inspiration to post about, I am going to keep this short and scrub the verandah floor so I can see the fruit of my productivity concretely.

When she looks back, what will she say?

When I was 7 months pregnant with Sierra, I closed on my first house. I swore to never make my baby live in an apartment. Never is a dangerous word. We need to be careful when we use this word.

I brought my darling daughter home to a house; it wasn’t exactly a home though. We lived there two years before I decided I want a bigger house. What I know now is that I was running away from what I had created, and I thought more space was the answer. Needless to say, I bought, we moved in to, and I sold the second house of my daughter’s life in under a year. (Details of the chain of events which led to that omitted purposefully.)

I found myself, almost 30, a single mother, and moving back home, with my parents…pretty much every independent American’s worst nightmare. It wasn’t a nightmare though; it was wonderful—thank God. The year and a half Sierra and I lived with my parents afforded her a relationship with her grandparents she would not have otherwise had if life had dealt us a different hand. It was also a time in my adult life that, like it or not, I needed Mom and Dad, and I am extremely thankful that they had the means to be there for me during that time. I am luckier than many because they were, and it afforded me a relationship with my parents I would not have otherwise had.

After a year and half, I was able to buy my third house. It was a townhouse, but it was the last unit. We had a yard and space for a barbeque, and it was all ours. We lived there for almost three years, and I liquidated every last item (minus four boxes and three suitcases worth) when I decided to pick up and move my daughter to another country—to what kind of living arrangement you ask;  an APARTMENT. Remember that never phrase I mentioned, well, never is a dangerous word.

We enjoyed five years in our 10^th floor Rio apartment, overlooking the Lagoa, Rocinha, and a distant view of the ocean. More than a dozen kids for Sierra to play with and never leave the apartment complex. We had two pools, a gym, a large play area, 24 hour security, friendly doormen, and a home.

And I just traded that in. I lived in that apartment longer than any other place in the 20 years since first leaving my parents home. BUT…We are back in a house, and it is a HOME. It’s comfortable, warm, welcoming, peaceful. It feels good here. But…

You knew there would be a but, right?

It’s FAR. It’s far from Sierra’s school. It’s far from my work. It’s far from most of her friends. It’s far from most of my friends. It’s far from the beach. Distance-wise, it’s only 20 kilometers (12.43 miles). It’s actually closer to my work than my mom’s and dad’s house was when we lived with them 10 years ago. But we live in a mega-tropolis, and traffic makes even a few kilometers (or miles) long sometimes.

We average an hour to go to school in the mornings and an hour and a half to come home. 2-3 days a week Sierra is riding public transportation to get to and from school, and the time this consumes in her day can be one hour to three hours depending on…traffic, the weather, the attitude of the drivers, the position of the moon in relation to the Earth…you name it, it’s unpredictable in the end.

With that said, I recently find myself thinking: What is she going to say when she’s an adult and she looks back on this time in her life. Will she have fond memories of our beautiful, peaceful, welcoming home? Or, will she tell her friends, partner, colleagues what a chore it was to be so far away after five years of being in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world? Will she resent me for the choices I made and forced her to live? Or, will she thank me for the opportunities I provided her?

I hope it’s the latter.

Memory Loss?I received an email once, you know, the mass forwarded email with a message that says you'll have eternal good luck if you forward it on to eight people. I don't remember exactly what the email said, but it had something to do with friends and the kind of friend they are. Something about how people come into your life for a reason, to complete a purpose. If you have friends for a short time or a lifetime, they are equally as important because the reason for that person entering your life is significant and perhaps something you don't know or won't ever know for that matter.
This is so true. I think I'm losing my memory. I seem to have a hard time remembering details. I vaguely remember having been somewhere or seen something or a weekend trip. Then something happens to jog my memory and it comes back--usually. Or someone retells the whole story and in the end I say, "OOOOHHH! I remember!"
George Michael's "I Want Your Sex" was on the radio this morning as I drove to the beach. I could sing along word for word, and I did. I don't think I've actually heard that song in 20 years, but I turned up the volume and sang along, not missing a beat (Bira looked at me strangely a couple of times during the song). As the song was coming to an end, I found myself smiling (not because the song is ridiculously perverted). I found myself smiling because I was 17 again, in Hibbing, MN at the Holiday Basketball Tournament with Dee Tousignant, in our hotel room, decorating the last of the door signs for the guys on the basketball team, eating Wheat Thins with peanut butter covered in chocolate, and screaming our lungs out to George Michael. Yet I can't remember what I did last Sunday.
Living in a foreign country messes with my memory too. I think it's because I still don't think in Portuguese all the time, and being an expatriate means people come and go--a lot. You make new friends and you say good-by--a lot. It's hard at first, especially if you aren't used to the transient life. But a person adjusts, and it ends up being kinda cool in the end when you can say things like: my friends in Abu Dabi, or this friend of mine in Mexico...and things like Skype and Facebook make keeping in touch with people living internationally easier and the loneliness or saudades manageable.
I met one of those friends this week for breakfast. She lives in Luanda. She's here until January because she's pregnant with her first baby and Luanda doesn't have adequate health care facilities to provide the pre-natal, delivery, post natal care she wants/needs/deserves. We met for breakfast at 7:45; I left her house to go to work at noon! There was barely a moment of silence between us as we caught one another up on what life has been like in the two plus a few months since she and her husband left Rio. And we barely scratched the surface. It was great to see her, spend time with her, know that she is healthy and happy and growing (literally at the moment since she's pregnant). But more importantly, I left thinking about that email. The one I received, about friends coming in and out, for a lifetime or for a moment. My visit with my friend who lives in Luanda left me reminiscing about the first couple of years I lived here in Rio. Memories of afternoons on the beach, my first trip to Ilha Grande, my first Escola de Samba enseio, The Black Eyed Peas on Ipanema Beach for New Year's Eve...memories I had thought I had forgotten. 
Sometimes we think we have control of our own lives and then something happens, and we are reminded that we in fact are not the ones guiding this passage. We make decisions or leaps of faith in a moment or over time. We share our joys, and our pains, with others. We strive to be successful, to do the right thing. We congratulate our friends on a job well done or a promotion, and we say good-bye.
I'm starting to believe that perhaps my quase-amnesia (so I have self-diagnosed anyway) is all part of this grander scheme. Maybe I'm not supposed to remember everything all the time. Maybe forgetting for a little while makes the moment when I remember that much sweeter...and it's meant to be that way.

Under Construction
In one way, that's what I feel my life is at the moment...
Under Construction.
Maybe it's more like Rennovation and not so much Construction. Afterall, I feel fairly well constructed at this point in my life.

Since June I've:
bought and moved into the new house and started a new job (in Brasil)
enjoyed a 5 weeks vacation with family stateside
went to JellyStone Park for the first time and felt like a kid
gained--American junkfood(and lost--moving and settling in the new house) at least 10 lbs (5kg)
became a mother of a teenager

As I worked to unpack boxes and organize new cabinets, I craved the sense of order and routine. One month into the house and I am beginning to feel the routine take shape--and at times finding myself seeking chaos. At times, perhaps, creating a little chaos just for the feeling of it. I wonder why that is.

I have a world of opportunities ahead, sometimes more than I can wrap my mind around, and it leaves me in a stalemate unsure where to begin.

This all may be because until recently I was too comfortable in what I considered to be my daily routine, too accepting. Accustomed to the get up, go to work, go to bed, get up, go to work, go to bed. I realize that this moment, right now as I write, is quite possibly the first time in nearly a month that I have had the chance to just be. And it feels good. It feels welcome. It leaves my head empty and my heart curious.
And it makes me smile to think of what path I will blaze next...

A chapter closes...
I was given the honor of addressing the 8th grade class at their end of middle school celebration Friday, June 17. The following is what I shared:
Good afternoon class of 2015, parents, EARJ middle school students and faculty


20 years ago last Thursday, June 9, 1991, I graduated from high school. (Yes, I just revealed my age to an auditorium full of people) At the time, it was, maybe it still is, customary to choose a famous quote or saying that represents the graduating class. This chosen quote is then displayed on commencement programs, open house invitations, and several pages of the senior section of the yearbook. For my graduating class, the class officers selected the following quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson: What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. And according to custom, it was printed on the commencement program, open house invitations, and several pages of the senior section of the yearbook. 20 years later, the programs, invitations, and yearbook pages are either dust in the wind or covered in dust in a number of attics/storage spaces. I guess it is safe to say, more importantly, that this saying was instead imprinted in my memory. Ironic in some ways, for what lies WITHIN us really is what is most important.

8th graders, future graduating class of 2015, soon-to-be freshmen, you are sitting in a seat that magnifies all that is behind you. You received a capsule letter this morning reminding you about how you felt at the beginning of this 8th grade year. Many of you were surprised when reminded of what your thinking used to be like. Some of you were surprised by how your opinions were altered over the course of this year. Some of you were just plain surprised. But what great things you have accomplished! Not only this school year, but all the school years until now. Inside the classrooms, on the athletic fields, as a member of your respective families, as you discovered what it means to be a friend.

This seat you occupy also magnifies the vastness of what lies before you. You’ve registered for classes, you’ve elected class officers, you’ve attended one upper school class all in anticipation for what August has in store for you. Some of you will face these new adventures in a new school or a new city or a new country. All of the unanswered questions, all of the anxiety will soon enough be addressed. While you seek those answers, as you traverse the path before you, might I remind you to pay attention to what lies within you.

What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. What do you take with you from your EARJ Middle School experience? I think it is safe to assume that my colleagues would concur with what I wish for you to take, what I hope you keep in your imaginary pocket or bag of tricks,

I hope you take your effective decision-making skills; you know how to face tough choices; you know how to state your opinion in a constructive fashion; you know how to construct a valid argument and remain open to understanding when the opinion is contrary to yours; you know how to make mistakes—with grace. I hope you continue to develop the habits of successful people: attention to detail, organization, the art of discourse, how to control impulses. I hope you take with you the gift—of inquiry. Ask questions, doubt facts, search for answers, trust your inner voice.

You have arrived here today individually and collectively. You can be proud of what you have accomplished as a class. I know I am. I would like to leave you today with another quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson: To laugh often and much, to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children, to learn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends, to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others, to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child or a garden patch….to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded!

May each one of you find success. Congratulations class of 2015!

Change and Challenge and Moving on and Looking back and Making Decisions

Most of us are scared of change. It is a natural program mode of the human brain: Change on the horizon? Panic button! However, most change experienced leads us to challenge ourselves in ways we never imagined possible. Sometimes it means physically moving on. Sometimes it enables us to look back and reflect, process the actions taken and the lessons learned and make a spiritual change in our life. Mostly, change is frightening, in my humble opinion, because it means we have to make decisions.
I Feel Like a Grown-Up. I like this phrase. I use this phrase when I feel the strength of independent, solid decision making. But this phrase also reminds me of how complicated life continues to be as we grow up and lead independent lives, and how often, even as adults, we long for the protection of our parents.
The first few years living in Rio I didn't have a car. I used public transportation, walked or hitched rides with friends. The first months after buying my car, I often said, "I feel like such a grown-up." Independent, self-sufficient, self-reliant. There was victory in navigating the roads, the toll booths, the police blitz, and the car inspection in Portuguese. There was a sense of accomplishment in understanding the mechanic when the battery had to be replaced and the tires pumped up a little. It made me feel like a grown-up.
I'm facing a major change in my life. There's a lot going on. And although I enjoy the sense of accomplishment over those things which I tackle on my own, there is a part of me that uses the phrase I feel like a grown-up because what I'm really craving is the safe, secure protection of being a child, of being taken care of, instead of caring for the situation on my own.
Why is change so scary? Especially as an adult? Perhaps it is because if we make the "wrong" choice and move toward change in a direction that brings negative consequences we accept the ownership of the decision making process. There's no one to fall back on but ourselves--of course that's scary. I don't know anyone who LIKES to fail.
But what if we look at change first through the lense of success and opportunity? How would that alter our perspective? Continuing on the same path, on the surface, appears to be easier than facing change. It's certainly easier to accept our life's routine as is. It's comfortable to continue in the direction we have been going. You know it's that famous saying, "It's ALWAYS been done that way." Nobody really knows if "that way" is the best. What happens when somebody else suddenly sends us in another direction? What happens if we are sent in that direction when we happen to feel the most empowered we've ever felt? Couldn't we begin to view change as an opportunity rather than a burden? Might we find ourselves actually thanking the change agent for the chance to make a shift?
That is where I find myself now. Forced to make a change. Forced to change direction in my routine. A little bit nervous, but not scared. I feel invigorated. I know what I have to offer. I know what I know. I know there exists many things which I don't know and even more that I don't know I don't know. What a privilege to be able to learn more. What an opportunity to look outside of what has been and think: I can totally make a change!
That must be where the element of looking back comes into play. If we don't take the time to reflect on what brought us to where we are, to who we have become, how are we supposed to navigate in which direction we are supposed to continue living?
Wide open opportunity is scary. Limitless possibility is daunting. Who knows where to begin in making major, life-changing decisions? Who has the confidence to trust the inner voice? How many people get the chance to start again?
The beauty of it all...I do!

Salvador2009

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Photo Book

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Photo Book

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I'm tellin ya.
The material is endless.
Here, from a former colleague of mine:

Just read this on a Biology exam...
"Outline two modern examples where evolution can be observed"

The answer: "museums and the zoo".
 
And another one from my cousin who is also a teacher:

We're reading "The Odyssey" and today we read when Odysseus' nurse says she'll keep his secret because she "fed him at the breast." The students couldn't understand how Odysseus could be breast-fed by someone other than his mother. They wanted this whole lesson on breast-feeding, and I wouldn't give it to them. One of the boys pipes up: "I can tell you all about breast-feeding. It was the best 3 years of my life." He kept a straight face...I didn't.

 

If you have one to share, send me an email at sarawicht@hotmail.com

 

And I Kept a Straight Face...

As a classroom teacher for 16 years, I have heard many-a one-liner from middle schoolers. I have more than once said, "I need to write this shit down!" I imagine there are infinite other "one-liners" waiting to be shared by fellow teachers. I am now working on finding the platform I can use to communicate and share them.

Something is in the works...it will probably involve Facebook. It may become a second blog instead...need to check blogspot to see if the above title is currently in use.

This is exciting!

Here's the first of hopefully many from: And I Kept a Straight Face:

Student: Ms. Sara, there's a very strange definition for climax in the dictionary. It says climax is orgasm!
Me: That's right. Climax is a synonym for orgasm.
Student: What?! But how can you say, "I was reading the story, and I just got to the orgasm."?
Me:

And I Kept a Straight Face...

Barack Obama in Rio de Janeiro 2011 This picture is of his helicopter arriving at the Flamengo Soccer Club in my neighborhood (currently the city champions). I took the picture not knowing it was him, but I later saw on the news the report of his arrival to the club coincided with the time I took the picture. He used their field as a landing zone for getting around the city.

I have never been in the same state as a U.S. President let alone the same room. I'm not even a super political person. I don't claim a party--not 100% anyway. I don't like to discuss politics. I don't tell people who I vote for. I just want everyone to get along. I do, however, hugely support pioneers. I am a sucker for anyone who is a 'first'. To be the first to do something, in my mind, in my little world, is like hanging the moon--it's bigger than hanging the moon. U.S. President Barack Obama may not have hung the moon, but he is a pioneer of unsurmountable proportions.

yesterday, I was lucky enough to be one of twenty teachers from Escola Americana do Rio de Janeiro to receive a ticket to listen to President Obama's presentation Sunday, March 20, 2011 at the Municipal Theater in Rio de Janeiro. I have to say, it was EVERYTHING and more than I could have expected. I sat at the edge of my seat for the entire 22 minutes, hanging onto every word as President Obama greeted the 2,000 in attendance with a "boa tarde Brazil" and went on to recognize the natural beauty that makes up this incredible country. The landscape that hasn't stopped taking my breath away since first seeing it 16 years ago when I first fell in love with Brazil.

President Obama is a fan of "firsters" too I think, as he made it known that the Brazilian people have moved mountains in their history as well; from overcoming Portuguese rule to surviving two dictatorships, and recently electing their first female president. He applauded the Brazilian people for their exercise in democracy.

All the while, on the edge of my seat, I was willing him to look my way. I was determined to get eye contact. I was seated in the balcony, stage left, the side which he entered and exited the stage, and I was working the super power of telepathic persuasion the whole time. Just as I thought I had lost out on my chance of a lifetime to come "face-to-face" with an American President...he did it, on his way off stage he looked up, RIGHT at ME! Eyes to eyes, he looked at me! I'm pretty sure he was thinking, "Wow, that looks like a fellow American! Actually, I think that woman is a fellow Midwesterner." And...he SMILED, waved, and exited the stage, leaving me extremely happy, proclaiming, "He looked at me! He looked at me and smiled!"

I've been living as an expat for nearly five years now. In many ways Rio is my home. I have acclimated nearly 100% to life as a Carioca. I am not sure I would be as happy living stateside at the moment. I do love it here; however, there was something special about being surrounded by all those American Secret Service Agents yesterday afternoon that all of a sudden made me feel overwhelmingly patriotic, proud to be an American and little homesick for the Land of the Brave.

This photo has NOT been digitally enhanced! This was the actual moon rise over Rio Friday, February 18, 2011. Amazingly beautiful!
I love you all the way to the moon...and back.

Beach Volleyball EARIOJ-style
If you know anything about Brazil you know:
1. Brazil is actually spelled BraSil.
2. Brazilians LOVE samba and celebrate by drinking chopp--draft beer
3. They have produced some of the best beach volleyball players in the world!

Well, I have to remind myself now to spell Brasil, BraZil when writing to my American friends. I have acquired a passion for Samba and wait with baited breath each year for Carnival. I am pretty good at celebrating just about any occasion with a cold chopp. However, all the Friday Volleyball Matches in the world will not make me one of the best beach volleyball players in the world.
But I'm sure having fun trying. Some friends from work and I started a Friday routine this year: Beach Volleyball/Happy Hour. We comnandeered a sand court on the beach in Leblon, made friends with the barraca owner in front of the court to ensure plenty-o-ice-cold beer--at a discount--and every Friday we play until the sun goes down.
At first my colleagues were timid.
"Oh, I don't know how to play Sara."
"What? Beach Volleyball? I've never played."
Through coaxing and trial and error, we have a pretty regular group coming out each week to actively participate in the game or as a 'beerleader' (vs. cheerleader).
It has proven to be a great end to sometimes hectic work weeks. Plus it's fun to hang out with people you work with and NOT talk shop! For teachers, that is sometimes a difficult task as many conversations tend to revert to the topic of shop.
Part of my persausion has been a weekly email, inviting faculty and staff. I have written formal invitations, quick reminders, and poems. One week, my poem set off an avalanche of rhyming diddies from the science teachers even!
Well, this week...I thought...I can't do just another poem. The poem has kind of lost its punch. I need to do something new, something different, something people don't expect; and during the night last night--as all creative artists are inspired--it came to me.
In David Letterman style:

Top 10 Reasons to Play Volleyball on the Beach on Friday
10. VB skills really improve with time and practice. (It's true; ask Amanda or Katie!)
9. The laughter will leave your stomach hurting so much you will swear you just did 20 minutes of Abs of Steel.
8. Free exfoliation on your feet from running through the sand.
7. Balance your body's Vitamin D. (In case Cod Liver Oil is not a part of your regular diet.)
6. Clear your sinuses by breathing the salty, sea mist for a couple of hours.
5. Studies have found that drinking beer actually reduces your chances of stroke and heart and vascular disease.
4. It has been proven that positive relationships with colleagues outside of the workplace increases workplace morale.
3. You can avoid Friday afternoon traffic out of Zona Sul, reducing the amount of stress in your day.
2. Sweating improves circulation and skin health, eases joint pain and stiffness, reduces cellulite (come on, who doesn't want that), eliminates impurities like heavy metals (AC/DC, Metallica, Iron Maiden, etc.), burns calories and controls weight (after the holidays this is important), reduces stress and fatigue (we work with children and adolescents of course we have stress and fatigue), relieves pain (but not the pain in your block 4), promotes healthy immune system (to fight all the bacteria students expose to us each day), strengthens the cardiovascular system (who doesn't need a bigger heart?)

And the number one reason to join us Friday after school in Leblon....

1. It's FUN!!!!!!!!!!!!

We'll have to wait until tomorrow to see how persuasive the list of 10 is.

Things that I LOVE...

Batman at the beach when Bira is working.
New Year's Eve on Copacabana w/ Bira.

My Girls Walkin the Dinosaur in Buzios.

Quiet nights at home, just me and my violao.

Running across an abandoned canoe on an abandoned beach on horseback.

Life is good.

Live well.

Love hard.

Say you're sorry.

Respect nature.

Kiss the people you love.

Smile at your reflection.

Work hard.

Play fair.

Pray.

Be gracious.

Being Satisfied...or not
Feeling the need to write it all down. To remember how thankful I am for so many loving people and incredible opportunities in my life. Write it all down in order to preserve what might be lost to the daily regiment that we often find ourselves in. This idea of being satisfied continues to resurface in my mind. My thoughts are often trickling back to this notion of "enough". What is enough? A roof over one's head. Enough food to be healthy? The means for a daily laugh, intellectual stimulation? or a big house and a fancy car, countless friends and a full social calender?
I would guess as in all things, enough too is a matter of perspective and unless one sees another's perspective the measurement of enough will never be equal. I have had more than enough in many ways at many times throughout my life. Thank God. Yet, at times I have sunk to the thoughts involving: I Want More. Why is that?
I am facing a crossroads in my life. A major decision. Sure I've been at this sort of impasse before, but somehow this time it feels like it isn't as much about me as it was 15 or 10 years ago. This time it seems that no matter what decision I make, somehow someone will not be happy, including me. How does one begin to even think about what to do? When there is no one right answer but 100 possible right answers. I guess I could stop fretting and look at that as a blessing since many people don't even have 1 right answer to choose at times in life.
Here's the deal: I have to leave EARJ after this year. I will have fulfilled the 5 years alotted as an expat teacher with the school. I cannot continue directly. I have the option, after a minimum of 6 months, of reapplying and returning, pending vacancy, to the school. But I cannot continue as is after June 2011.
What do I do?
I am happier and halthier in Brasil than I have ever been in my lifetime. I guess I sorta saw that coming when we moved here in 2006, but I had no idea it would be this influential. I knew then what I know now about how much this country feels like where I belong, but I had no idea it would get into my soul the way it has.
Do I stay? Pound the pavement. Push my professional life in another direction? Feed creative energies and return to writing? Publish the book I've always wanted to publish? Do I seek another international post? There are a lot of places in the world. A lot of great schools around the globe looking for educators. Living in another country would be a worthy experience for my daughter. It would be a financially comfortable life. It would be stimulating. It would be challenging.
What do you do when you don't have control? Or you don't feel like you have control? When you can't see the answers to the questions that are floating around in your head. When you would like to know the future. When you are forced to make a change that you don't necessarily want to make? The truth is that the options are limitless. That's what makes it so hard. There are too many options and I have no guarantee what the outcome of any one of the options will be.
I want to be 5 again. I want to hear: You can have the grape popsicle or the orange popsicle. You pick. I want the choice to be that easy.
But it's not...

Riding a Bicycle
Writing is kinda like riding a bicycle. Ok, not really. Maybe it's more like driving a car. It's something you learn through concentrated, deliberate, hopefully well guided practice before you can consider yourself versed in the task. I used to be a writer. But I haven't been practicing. And now being out of practice makes me envy all those beautiful things I read for the talent portrayed in the work.
I just spent 30 minutes reading other people's blogs (there are some beautiful things written on some of these blogs. Some real talent that would sell if transformed into print). At least they are people I know. It's not like I was surfing random blogs. It left me with this feeling of loss, emptiness...I used to do that. I used to be good at that. I'm not feeling very good at it anymore. Why not? Because I don't do it anymore, and I'm fighting this language war inside my head almost 24 hours a day. Thinking in English, speaking in Portuguese, dreaming in English, retelling the dream in Portuguese, working in English, socializing in Portuguese. It's like having two little armies between my ears battling it out for ownership of the podium. Once in awhile Captain Port. wins the battle and both the thoughts and the words end up in his mother's tongue. Most of the time, it's a clustered, confused combination of two languages and some garble.
In the end, this language acquisition experience of the past 4 years has left me feeling slightly less intelligent and hugely less verbose. I used to be characterized as verbose. Ask me where something is and I'll explain to you how it was built and arrived at its current state. Not anymore. Hey, Sara, where's the extra garrafa of agua (see the mixture of language there). My answer would be: in the cozinha. Some days I feel ill-prepared to formulate even one complete sentence.
I'm a writing teacher. And a pretty good one if I do say so myself. My students generally improve their writing skills by 3-4 years as a result of having my class. How can I be so good at telling other people what to do, but so bad at doing it myself? Practice, or lack there of. I know what it takes to be a good writer. I know training and determination makes you a better writer, but I don't have anyone hanging the "A" over my head for producing the next great blog post. So, I don't practice and I don't train. But I sure know how to tell my students they need more organization. Maybe that means it is more about the pressure and needing external stimulation...hmmm, that sounds like a totally different topic and perhaps one that would be appropriately discussed with my shrink (if I had one, which I don't but am now considering hiring).
Why isn't riding a bike the same as writing? You can learn to ride when you're 5 years old, ride like the wind until your 15 and start driving and not get on a single bicycle again for 20 years, but still ride like the wind without a moment hesitation when you do. Is it the pure motor memory that kicks in and leaves out any real need for intelligence? I don't know. Hopefully driving a car is the same because I just bought one and get to pick it up in 3 days. Let's hope I remember how to do that.

Rio Under Water

Last Monday, April 5, the rains commenced around 6:30 p.m. The winds were similar to Hurricane/Tropical Storm winds I experienced while living in Houston. The rain didn't let up for a solid 24 hours. Even after the first 24 hours, it continued to rain only with less force most of the time. The amount of rain that fell in that first 24 hours is said to be equivalant to 347 olympic sized swimming pools. I'm not sure any city could handle that much water. The city streets filled quickly. Motorists were stranded through the night. Thousands went without electricity for up to 4 days. Niteroi, a suburb of Rio and once the capital city of Brazil, seems to have suffered the highest number of casualties. A major landslide Thursday morning after the rains seemingly were on their way out, buried some 200 people and destroyed houses, stores, a school and a church.

Thousands of Cariocas are left homeless.

This is the view of the hill and Rocinha from my verandah. The path down the right side of the picture used to be full of trees--and houses. This demonstrates the landslides last week in Rio on a very small scale.

Here's a closer version of the same picture. EARJ is right at the end of the "slide".

The aftermath of this flooding is pretty complicated. I have taken to buying the daily paper in part because it amazes me how the politicians continue to point the finger at the predecessor. The areas of high fatality are almost entirely poor areas, slums/favelas, in the city. In most cases, people are there due to 'squatter's rights', and the city officials who oversee the areas haven't done their part to uphold the zoning laws. Yesterday's newspaper reported that the governor intends to move all residents from 8 of the city's favelas. This means relocated somewhere around 1 million people!

My student's family lived at the end of the landslide pictured above. Their house was within ordinance. Their house was legal. However, there were several illegal houses above theirs on the mountain side; and when the trees and foliage gave way to the rain, it swept the illegally built houses with it. The retaining wall behind my student's house wasn't strong enough to withstand the forest AND the tumbling homes. The result: their house is destroyed.

I spoke to the mother of this family yesterday afternoon. Sadly, the city will pay to construct a new retaining wall, but all repairs to their house are the family's responsibility. It's really sad; as had the city not permitted the homes above to be build, the retaining wall would have withstood the impact of the forest and their house would have been fine.

It will be interesting, to say the least, to see how this unfolds in the coming months. One thing I have learned in my four years living in Rio de Janeiro: many laws exist, but for every law there are at least 2 ways around it.

A much needed update...

Just too lazy to keep up with the blog. Here is what we've been up to since Carnaval.

A barbeque and sing-a-long with friends...

A beautiful daughter turning into a teenager (Lord help me get through the next 8 years)...

Beautiful sunset in Macae with Francesca and Sophie...

Appreciating the full moon over the Lagoa from my verandah...

Simple things in life can keep you going.

p.s. the ear is back to normal. Dr. treated me for an inner ear infection despite the absence of vertigo or fever. All clear and hearing normally again. Thank God!!