to all those opposed to top-down, business models of education.
First they came for the students,
With a 2-tiered public school system in the name of ‘magnets’ and ‘gifted programs’,
And we let them because of the promise of better programs for those of our students being held back
And for the sake of our own children whom we could not tend while we attended to the children of others.
Then they came for the parents,
With LSCs and PACs, with application deadlines and mandatory homework, with voucher plans and night shifts,
And we let them because of the promise of better parent involvement and the freedom of choice
And because it allowed us to access our own children’s schools in new ways.
Then they came for the principals,
With their early retirement, their Area Instructional Offices, and Ren2010,
And we let them because we wanted our beloved advocates in places to influence district policy
And because we didn’t think that wolves in sheep’s clothing would come to tend our flocks in place of our friends.
Then they came for the teachers,
With their turn-arounds and charters, their merit pay and Data-Driven Instruction,
And we had no one left to speak on our behalf because our students and parents and principals had been siphoned off to other schools
And we had no voice of our own, as the redtape of the Union bureaucracy silenced our grievances.
Now we look at what they have taken.
With their good intentions and their statistics,
With their end of federal desegregation intervention,
With their No Child Left Behind and their norm-referenced testing and their Races.
And we find ourselves reassigned or unemployed, our students fighting for their lives to get an education, while our children rise leaps and bounds in their elite schools over the heads of our students.
And we see now that when they came for our students that it was not in an effort to educate all students equally,
And when they came for our parents it was not in an effort to be inclusive,
And when they came for our principals it was not in an effort to create educational leadership that were specialists in their field,
And when they came for us, they were just coming for us, because we were the last ones left standing in the way of their plans.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
On poly, heartbreak, marriage and moving on
I have always been a sort of loner. Whether that was balking the fist fight for clarifying words, or refusing the cool jeans, or going shaggy instead of shaved; whether that was birthing choice or parenting styles or dietary decisions; whether it was speaking out or staying quiet, preferring home-with-the-kids to out-with-friends, honesty to norms. I suppose this is part of why i'm looking down my second divorce now after swearing off marriage before the first one.
So how did i end up institutionalized twice then, if my trajectory aimed me for more wide open freedom? the first time was trying to beat fate. or maybe working to meet fate. otherwise known as trying to fit in. but the mold didn't quite fit. i didn't really know why until the end of that marriage, when i stumbled upon that tome of loving wisdom Stranger in a Strange Land and the idea of open relationships. there in print was what i had always known about myself. fiction or no, i felt validated and real. as though my attempts at description, my internal strife, my mistakes had not been for naught.
I suppose in some ways my second stint inside was also about fitting in, beating destiny, working against myself for something i wanted in spite of needs pointing elsewhere. well... all that plus love. the second time around maybe i could just blame love. that intense body-hold, mind-boggling, earth-stopping utopia. and as a utopia, existing only in its own plane, and only fleetingly even there.
oh, but i was so in love with him! my soul a piece of him. if ever i needed someone else, it was him. he taught me to give over some of my needs, to share the burden of filling those needs so that resting would be more relaxing.
but still, it was my need for an open relationship that ended that marriage, as it was with the first. or his need for singular emotional attachments, as with the first. either way. perspective matters, i suppose.
open relationships - polyamorous relationships with emphasis on 'amory' not emphasis on sex (which i don't see in that term at all) - are part of me. it is not something i have chosen, not the latest fad or hip thing, just something that i am. as i am a woman, bi-curious, a 6, a mother, a virgo, a horse, a sister, a friend - so am i polyamorous. i cannot wake tomorrow and be monamorous, which is so often confused with monogamous* (which itself is still up in the air for me). Being polyamorous is different than choosing polyamory, and so i find that i am a loner again, the one on the fringe, the one ignored or talked about, but not the one talked to.
in spite of my ability to love multiple partners simultaneously, or perhaps because of it, i find myself a wreckage of heartbreak now that my second husband - my lover, my friend, my partner - is gone. incompatible. too beat up himself to even abide a friendship, though that is my general leaning after a break-up...turn it into a change up. this heartbreak leaves me scattered and pained, flighty and wary, afraid of love but knowing that i will one day stumble upon it unbeknownst, and have the joys and sorrows tossed about like spray on a windy day at the lake. that knowledge may one day make me smile: right now it just makes me weary. for a truly broken heart is not something someone did to me, it is a self-inflicted wound. thus, it is not simply a removal of the thorn to heal the prick, but an eye-opening to the briar parch and a new path to forge out of the stickers that must be accomplished in order to alleviate the pain.
*polyamory/monamory is about how many people an individual is able to be in love with simultaneously (eg, multiple spouses or significant others). poly/monamorous does not refer to how many people can be loved generally (eg, spouse, parent, children, friends). it is a term to encapsulate the idea of being in-love with more than one person at a time (poly) versus one person at a time (mono). in contrast, monogamy/polygamy refers to how many people are in a marriage -- 2 or more than 2. for the sake of my own reference (not believing that marriage is necessary or even workable as a government institution), i broaden monogamy/polygamy to include sex, as well as marriage. that is, 1 primary sexual partner at a time versus multiple primary sexual partners at a time.
So how did i end up institutionalized twice then, if my trajectory aimed me for more wide open freedom? the first time was trying to beat fate. or maybe working to meet fate. otherwise known as trying to fit in. but the mold didn't quite fit. i didn't really know why until the end of that marriage, when i stumbled upon that tome of loving wisdom Stranger in a Strange Land and the idea of open relationships. there in print was what i had always known about myself. fiction or no, i felt validated and real. as though my attempts at description, my internal strife, my mistakes had not been for naught.
I suppose in some ways my second stint inside was also about fitting in, beating destiny, working against myself for something i wanted in spite of needs pointing elsewhere. well... all that plus love. the second time around maybe i could just blame love. that intense body-hold, mind-boggling, earth-stopping utopia. and as a utopia, existing only in its own plane, and only fleetingly even there.
oh, but i was so in love with him! my soul a piece of him. if ever i needed someone else, it was him. he taught me to give over some of my needs, to share the burden of filling those needs so that resting would be more relaxing.
but still, it was my need for an open relationship that ended that marriage, as it was with the first. or his need for singular emotional attachments, as with the first. either way. perspective matters, i suppose.
open relationships - polyamorous relationships with emphasis on 'amory' not emphasis on sex (which i don't see in that term at all) - are part of me. it is not something i have chosen, not the latest fad or hip thing, just something that i am. as i am a woman, bi-curious, a 6, a mother, a virgo, a horse, a sister, a friend - so am i polyamorous. i cannot wake tomorrow and be monamorous, which is so often confused with monogamous* (which itself is still up in the air for me). Being polyamorous is different than choosing polyamory, and so i find that i am a loner again, the one on the fringe, the one ignored or talked about, but not the one talked to.
in spite of my ability to love multiple partners simultaneously, or perhaps because of it, i find myself a wreckage of heartbreak now that my second husband - my lover, my friend, my partner - is gone. incompatible. too beat up himself to even abide a friendship, though that is my general leaning after a break-up...turn it into a change up. this heartbreak leaves me scattered and pained, flighty and wary, afraid of love but knowing that i will one day stumble upon it unbeknownst, and have the joys and sorrows tossed about like spray on a windy day at the lake. that knowledge may one day make me smile: right now it just makes me weary. for a truly broken heart is not something someone did to me, it is a self-inflicted wound. thus, it is not simply a removal of the thorn to heal the prick, but an eye-opening to the briar parch and a new path to forge out of the stickers that must be accomplished in order to alleviate the pain.
*polyamory/monamory is about how many people an individual is able to be in love with simultaneously (eg, multiple spouses or significant others). poly/monamorous does not refer to how many people can be loved generally (eg, spouse, parent, children, friends). it is a term to encapsulate the idea of being in-love with more than one person at a time (poly) versus one person at a time (mono). in contrast, monogamy/polygamy refers to how many people are in a marriage -- 2 or more than 2. for the sake of my own reference (not believing that marriage is necessary or even workable as a government institution), i broaden monogamy/polygamy to include sex, as well as marriage. that is, 1 primary sexual partner at a time versus multiple primary sexual partners at a time.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Murdered by Data
Data.
Images of computers, robots, numbers, maybe an android, this is what comes to mind when the word ‘data’ is used. As a teacher, the flickering 16 millimeter of the mind may click through silent rows of heads bent over scantrons, diligently bubbling in their sheets, the clock ticking, soft-soled shoes administrating, envelopes ripping open, a lifetime of learning boiled down to a double digit number given on a curve. There is no mastery, there are only gradients, only differentials, only quantifiable measurements. No matter that the purpose of the test is to measure if a student will make it successfully though the first year of college. No matter that the strongest correlation to the test score is the student’s 3rd grade reading ability.
I happen to be in an ethical dilemma because of data. Specifically, the data driven instruction that is supposed to make out students smarter, faster, stronger, give them the competitive edge necessary to succeed in this capitalistic society of ours. This is partially because of the lack of relevancy in standardized testing – that is, there is little or no connection between ‘real life’ and standardized exam-taking – but is primarily because the tools we use to collect data, these standardized exams, make liars of us all.
There is no way to prepare for a norm-referenced exam, such as those given to students across this country’s high schools (eg, PSAE, ACT, PLAN, EXPLORE). The bell curve will nullify any testing clues, any Saturday morning sessions, any private tutoring. That is the JOB of the curve, to select out the cream of the crop for the limited number of college seats available. While K-12 shouts from the rooftops that all kids need to go to college, the colleges only have so much dorm space, and the professional fields only have so many salaried positions. Our data collection tool selects, and yet we use it as a way to measure our students on their way to mastery. We stand before our students and encourage, cajole, threaten, weep – trying to make them understand how the balance of their futures hangs by the outcome of these tests. Data Driven Instruction has taken away the importance of the classroom content and replaced it with a skills-based approach. As though sequencing the events is more important than actually knowing the events. Or that reading the graph is more important than retaining the information for generalization to other courses. Or that answering the equation theoretically with a calculator makes up for the inability to do multiplication quickly in one’s own head. Ironically, ACT’s homepage declares that the test is a curriculum-based test, opposing the growing trend that teaching ‘skills’ will lead to higher test scores.
Thankfully, there is a light at the end of the DDI tunnel and an end to the Dilemma of Dishonest Inspections. It too is called data. This data, however, comes from the classroom. In contrast to the images above, classroom data looks just like the classroom: attendance rosters, assignment grades, classroom participation, teacher-created tests, project rubrics, phone logs, referrals, student and parent conference notes, lesson plans and reteaching strategies, department and grade level meeting minutes, posting of grades and objectives, and walls of fame. The classroom teaches to mastery. Thus, using classroom data to measure quantifiable content-based (and skill-related) objectives, to drive the curriculum, to assess the abilities of the students and school not only leads us back to honesty, but has the potential to make the school a real learning environment rather than a test-prep machine.
The main argument against classroom assessments, from every quadrant, but primarily from the data experts, curriculum giants, and administration pertains to the reliability and validity of the classroom teacher. That is, does Mr. X’s English assessment REALLY test comparative relationships and does it do so at the 10th grade level? Does Ms. A’s math quiz ACTUALLY assess the students’ ability to sequence, or their ability to use the appropriate geometric equation? Here’s the thing, though. These questions don’t negate the teacher, not do they make obvious the need for standardized tests (norm-referenced or otherwise). In fact, what there questions do is make teachers the professional that they have worked to be. In order for teachers to be accountable for their students mastery levels, teachers have to use their own lessons and assessments to determine these mastery levels.
Does this excuse teachers from high failure rates? Or from having to provide support for high pass rates? Absolutely not. What this does do, however, is provide an opportunity for all-out honesty – take out the curve, admit the weakness at writing multiple choice questions, seek out help in creating rubrics and writing directions that are explicit and clear, find a mentor to help reteach content and spiral in skills to the next unit. What this does is create a school-wide learning community rather than a test-prep blitz.
Here we are with honest classroom data. Mountains, piles, drawers, files, books, binders, desks, computers full of data. This data drives our instruction every day and keeps us awake every night, and compels us to hunt down students when they miss our class. It’s because of data that we came into this field – to help kids learn to read, to get kids excited about math, to watch the class debate the issues. And this data is also what keeps us good teachers. To claim that Data Driven Instruction is possible from a source outside the classroom negates the very purpose of the classroom and the teacher. It obfuscates the purpose of education. It illuminates the purpose behind schooling. And as teachers, honest teachers working to solve our Dilemma of Dishonest Inspections, we shout from the rooftops that we do not school! We are here to educate. And we use honest data every day to do it.
Images of computers, robots, numbers, maybe an android, this is what comes to mind when the word ‘data’ is used. As a teacher, the flickering 16 millimeter of the mind may click through silent rows of heads bent over scantrons, diligently bubbling in their sheets, the clock ticking, soft-soled shoes administrating, envelopes ripping open, a lifetime of learning boiled down to a double digit number given on a curve. There is no mastery, there are only gradients, only differentials, only quantifiable measurements. No matter that the purpose of the test is to measure if a student will make it successfully though the first year of college. No matter that the strongest correlation to the test score is the student’s 3rd grade reading ability.
I happen to be in an ethical dilemma because of data. Specifically, the data driven instruction that is supposed to make out students smarter, faster, stronger, give them the competitive edge necessary to succeed in this capitalistic society of ours. This is partially because of the lack of relevancy in standardized testing – that is, there is little or no connection between ‘real life’ and standardized exam-taking – but is primarily because the tools we use to collect data, these standardized exams, make liars of us all.
There is no way to prepare for a norm-referenced exam, such as those given to students across this country’s high schools (eg, PSAE, ACT, PLAN, EXPLORE). The bell curve will nullify any testing clues, any Saturday morning sessions, any private tutoring. That is the JOB of the curve, to select out the cream of the crop for the limited number of college seats available. While K-12 shouts from the rooftops that all kids need to go to college, the colleges only have so much dorm space, and the professional fields only have so many salaried positions. Our data collection tool selects, and yet we use it as a way to measure our students on their way to mastery. We stand before our students and encourage, cajole, threaten, weep – trying to make them understand how the balance of their futures hangs by the outcome of these tests. Data Driven Instruction has taken away the importance of the classroom content and replaced it with a skills-based approach. As though sequencing the events is more important than actually knowing the events. Or that reading the graph is more important than retaining the information for generalization to other courses. Or that answering the equation theoretically with a calculator makes up for the inability to do multiplication quickly in one’s own head. Ironically, ACT’s homepage declares that the test is a curriculum-based test, opposing the growing trend that teaching ‘skills’ will lead to higher test scores.
Thankfully, there is a light at the end of the DDI tunnel and an end to the Dilemma of Dishonest Inspections. It too is called data. This data, however, comes from the classroom. In contrast to the images above, classroom data looks just like the classroom: attendance rosters, assignment grades, classroom participation, teacher-created tests, project rubrics, phone logs, referrals, student and parent conference notes, lesson plans and reteaching strategies, department and grade level meeting minutes, posting of grades and objectives, and walls of fame. The classroom teaches to mastery. Thus, using classroom data to measure quantifiable content-based (and skill-related) objectives, to drive the curriculum, to assess the abilities of the students and school not only leads us back to honesty, but has the potential to make the school a real learning environment rather than a test-prep machine.
The main argument against classroom assessments, from every quadrant, but primarily from the data experts, curriculum giants, and administration pertains to the reliability and validity of the classroom teacher. That is, does Mr. X’s English assessment REALLY test comparative relationships and does it do so at the 10th grade level? Does Ms. A’s math quiz ACTUALLY assess the students’ ability to sequence, or their ability to use the appropriate geometric equation? Here’s the thing, though. These questions don’t negate the teacher, not do they make obvious the need for standardized tests (norm-referenced or otherwise). In fact, what there questions do is make teachers the professional that they have worked to be. In order for teachers to be accountable for their students mastery levels, teachers have to use their own lessons and assessments to determine these mastery levels.
Does this excuse teachers from high failure rates? Or from having to provide support for high pass rates? Absolutely not. What this does do, however, is provide an opportunity for all-out honesty – take out the curve, admit the weakness at writing multiple choice questions, seek out help in creating rubrics and writing directions that are explicit and clear, find a mentor to help reteach content and spiral in skills to the next unit. What this does is create a school-wide learning community rather than a test-prep blitz.
Here we are with honest classroom data. Mountains, piles, drawers, files, books, binders, desks, computers full of data. This data drives our instruction every day and keeps us awake every night, and compels us to hunt down students when they miss our class. It’s because of data that we came into this field – to help kids learn to read, to get kids excited about math, to watch the class debate the issues. And this data is also what keeps us good teachers. To claim that Data Driven Instruction is possible from a source outside the classroom negates the very purpose of the classroom and the teacher. It obfuscates the purpose of education. It illuminates the purpose behind schooling. And as teachers, honest teachers working to solve our Dilemma of Dishonest Inspections, we shout from the rooftops that we do not school! We are here to educate. And we use honest data every day to do it.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Signs
i think that maybe it would be wise to give some warning to strangers approaching the door. or even to people who think they know me, since there seems to be some misconceptions floating around.
i could start with the infamous 'you're not welcome if...' type signs, and it would look something like this:
you're narrow-minded, racist, don't see your own white supremacy, don't understand the debilitating power of patriarchy or heterosexism, you think that bottles are equal to breast or that hospitals are just as safe (or safer) for birthing than home or that a stroller/car seat is equivelent to holding your child, you don't understand what it means to hug or cry or be practical, you can't make time to clean up, you aren't interested in sharing, you think that there is nothing wrong with the public school system, or you think that our 'black' president means we're in a post-racial society, you don't understand the importance of sunshine AND vitamin d, you're happy with the status quo, you think that children aren't worthy of conversation, and that as americans of course we are the best people on the planet - god says so, that's why he kills other people. you're ok with vaccinations and other forms of mass control by government, you think that 'god' is a man (or references a male or a single entity), you have more time to critique than to help, you think there is only adam and eve (not adam and steve) and that monogamy refers to a way of loving rather than a way of sexually orienting yourself, or if you find that you are so terrified of rejection that monomory is the only way to protect yourself from looking in the mirror, you think that your music taste (or movie taste or art taste or fashion taste) is better than someone else's, you think that slathering on the praise is what makes people secure or if you find dale carnegie is worth the paper that he is printed on, or you think that education/health care/living wage ought not be considered a human rights and you think that the u.s. doesn't have to listen to international law anyway, or you find the city an adequate substitute for actually living.
since wording is important, though, and people tend to prefer inclusion to exclusion, maybe it could just read like this:
all are welcome who are ready to come out of the cave and give up the smoke and mirrors - no matter the pain, no matter the loss, no matter the confrontational truth, no matter the momentary blindness by the sun.
i could start with the infamous 'you're not welcome if...' type signs, and it would look something like this:
you're narrow-minded, racist, don't see your own white supremacy, don't understand the debilitating power of patriarchy or heterosexism, you think that bottles are equal to breast or that hospitals are just as safe (or safer) for birthing than home or that a stroller/car seat is equivelent to holding your child, you don't understand what it means to hug or cry or be practical, you can't make time to clean up, you aren't interested in sharing, you think that there is nothing wrong with the public school system, or you think that our 'black' president means we're in a post-racial society, you don't understand the importance of sunshine AND vitamin d, you're happy with the status quo, you think that children aren't worthy of conversation, and that as americans of course we are the best people on the planet - god says so, that's why he kills other people. you're ok with vaccinations and other forms of mass control by government, you think that 'god' is a man (or references a male or a single entity), you have more time to critique than to help, you think there is only adam and eve (not adam and steve) and that monogamy refers to a way of loving rather than a way of sexually orienting yourself, or if you find that you are so terrified of rejection that monomory is the only way to protect yourself from looking in the mirror, you think that your music taste (or movie taste or art taste or fashion taste) is better than someone else's, you think that slathering on the praise is what makes people secure or if you find dale carnegie is worth the paper that he is printed on, or you think that education/health care/living wage ought not be considered a human rights and you think that the u.s. doesn't have to listen to international law anyway, or you find the city an adequate substitute for actually living.
since wording is important, though, and people tend to prefer inclusion to exclusion, maybe it could just read like this:
all are welcome who are ready to come out of the cave and give up the smoke and mirrors - no matter the pain, no matter the loss, no matter the confrontational truth, no matter the momentary blindness by the sun.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
season's change
It has been half a year since confronting this page. There were times I meant to come in and post - rants about the state of birth, ramblings about the colonization of young minds, rampages about white supremacy. Time gets in the way, the days grow short, the hours grow late.
Here it is spring again, though. Time to push up and out and into the sunshine. Time to grow. And growth comes through thought and movement. So, time to write again.
Here it is spring again, though. Time to push up and out and into the sunshine. Time to grow. And growth comes through thought and movement. So, time to write again.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
the Ireland Trip: Day 7
Monday, 22/6
Final day of driving - from Ballymote to Trim - which was like driving from Marion to Effingham (in both time and countryside look). The clouds floated off by the time we got to Trim around noon, and itw as actually sort of hot. We toured Trim Castle, which was where Braveheart was filmed, it turned out. Then we came to our final B&B (White Lodge House), and chilled. Internet available, and I caught Ramah online, so we got to chat some. It was 80 and humid back in Chicago at 8am -- YAY! I was so looking forward to the weather as summer was intended to be! Then, Tomi and I spent most of the evening reading, reclining, and eating some tasty Indian food. Tomi was still a bit off (and remained a bit seasick until the 3rd day home).
We outlined the trip home before bed. I was looking forward to returning. The trip was refreshing in many ways, but it was still a trip and that's always awkward for me. The tamed land in Ireland is also a little odd and out of place - or everything in it's place. Very tidy. I cna't help but contrast it to the wild jungles that grow up in Southern Illinois this time of year.
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland168.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland167.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland183.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland186.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland165.jpg
Final day of driving - from Ballymote to Trim - which was like driving from Marion to Effingham (in both time and countryside look). The clouds floated off by the time we got to Trim around noon, and itw as actually sort of hot. We toured Trim Castle, which was where Braveheart was filmed, it turned out. Then we came to our final B&B (White Lodge House), and chilled. Internet available, and I caught Ramah online, so we got to chat some. It was 80 and humid back in Chicago at 8am -- YAY! I was so looking forward to the weather as summer was intended to be! Then, Tomi and I spent most of the evening reading, reclining, and eating some tasty Indian food. Tomi was still a bit off (and remained a bit seasick until the 3rd day home).
We outlined the trip home before bed. I was looking forward to returning. The trip was refreshing in many ways, but it was still a trip and that's always awkward for me. The tamed land in Ireland is also a little odd and out of place - or everything in it's place. Very tidy. I cna't help but contrast it to the wild jungles that grow up in Southern Illinois this time of year.
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland168.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland167.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland183.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland186.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland165.jpg
the Ireland Trip: Days 5-6
Saturday, Solstice
sleeping in is bliss.
Awoke at 9 to the smell of pancakes or waffles or french toast. Turned out to be the last, and it was tasty. Tomi staggered down for some toast adn insisted that she wasn't hung over. We looked into the Doolin Caves trip, which was a bit more expensive than we had anticipated, and opted to walk down to Fisher Street instead to look at the local shops. After discussin the monetary ramification of not spending money on any other fun, we decide to splurge on horse-back riding. Off to find an ATM first, back in Ennistymon, plus a few groceries for our dwindling cheese and bread lunches. Then, to Willie Daly's Pony Trekking. It was a beautiful, if sedate ride. tomi did fine for her first solo horse experience, and we both survived the 2 hours on horse back. One of the barn hands, Naeve, a girl of about 10, walked with Tomi the whole time - whew! I was tired for her.
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland137.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland138.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland145.jpg
We came back to Doolin for dinner, stopping only long enough to get petrol down the the side of the car at a pump that leaked. Another delicious dinner, and we managed to run into Peter and Morris and few others, and then Colum invited us to join them again. The bar was crowded with afternoon Rugby and Hurling watchers plus the weekend tourists. The night wore on, the drinks flowed, my headache banged and diminished until I had a shot of whiskey, the music played, and we had a good time again. More people came, and the bar was packed, glasses breaking as the night wore on. One bad incident with a drunken ass at the end of the night who wouldn't leave Tomi alone, in spite of my outright statement to get lost. And one awkward few minutes when Colum and a few others handed me a phone to call Ramah - because they were certain that he wanted to hear from me...at 5pm Chicago time while I was in the middle of a racket in a bar. Had to call home to clear that up once we were back at the B&B.
(I will put in pictures of our new friends once Tomi's pics are uploaded.)
The nights here are dark and calm. The sky is cloudy often, but the stars are crisp when they shine. The darkness is everywhere adn complete when the sun sets. It's welcoming and pleasant.
Sunday, 21/6
another day spent driving. It hurts my calves to drive all these hours.
The fog was think when we left Doolin near 11. The hills rolled off into cloud adn mist, the stone fences became one with the sky in teh distance. We wound up the coast toad again, to come upon teh Doolin church as it was letting out. The crowd was large, the village all in one place, save for the proprietors checking out and breakfasting the tourists. We had to weave through the lave - double parked and home bound Catholics - to descend back to the sea. As we came down towards Ballyvaughn, the fog remained a blanket ont eh Burren's rocky hilltops, shrouds that stretched out in grey over the silver and blue ocean to join the sky.
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland147.jpg The countryside on the western coast reminds my of northern California - hills, rocks, sparse trees, the flora is odd here - birds-of-paradise, palms, evergreens... all of there imports in this tamed land.
We got to Ballymote midafternoon, and Tomi was sick from drinking too much last night and still from the ferry. We found a bathroom, and then drove on into the countrside and found the Carrowkeel Megalithic Tombs. The roads in Ireland are all paved. Even the one-laner leading from Ballymote to Castle Baldwin, and then up tot eh hills where the Carrowkeel tombs sit on private property. The last mile or so was gravel, and then a hiking trail up the sheep's hill to the tombs.
It was a beautiful walk in the thick fog, the sheep chewing their cud and eyeing us suspiciously as we passed. A fine mist was falling, ad we were both damp - Tomi smelling more like wet sheep than damp girl because of her wool sweater - by the time we got to teh top of the hill. The fog continued to thicken, as well. The hills there, the ground, were all peat and springy. So comfy for walking on. The hills were covered with a small ground shrub - gorse, I think - that is soft to the touch. In the lowlands or wetter places there are wild iris (of which I dug one up and thanked the land for), and nettles - which I remembered the hard way. ouch. Of course, I couldn't find any of the companion plant to stop the sting. There are also these wonderfully twisted trees that grow randomly - usually in lee sides or near the iris'...they have small leaves that resemble an oak almost, and bunches of white flowers all over. They also tend to be very old and covered in lichen. The ones at Carrowkeel were also covered on teh lower brancehs with patches of wool from the itchy sheep.
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland153.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland152.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland156.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland157.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland158.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland159.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland160.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland161.jpg
Back to Ballymote, where we relaxed for a bit before dinner. We gorged ourselves on pizza and then watched hours and hours of TV. The intrigue and drama and gore and non-stop was riveting yet appalling. My mind was hooked, but reeling. I am so glad we don't do TV at home, and will have to rein in Sol's daily morning movies after that reminder.
Monday, we planned to head back east again, to County Meath to stay in Trim, near Trim Castle. Then, Tuesday we head home. It felt like we were winding down, like Doolin was the heart of the trip. That was OK with me, as I was getting ready for home - the warmth and sun of summer, Solie, Ramah, the up-coming class, the anniversary party, and a break from spending so much money!!!
sleeping in is bliss.
Awoke at 9 to the smell of pancakes or waffles or french toast. Turned out to be the last, and it was tasty. Tomi staggered down for some toast adn insisted that she wasn't hung over. We looked into the Doolin Caves trip, which was a bit more expensive than we had anticipated, and opted to walk down to Fisher Street instead to look at the local shops. After discussin the monetary ramification of not spending money on any other fun, we decide to splurge on horse-back riding. Off to find an ATM first, back in Ennistymon, plus a few groceries for our dwindling cheese and bread lunches. Then, to Willie Daly's Pony Trekking. It was a beautiful, if sedate ride. tomi did fine for her first solo horse experience, and we both survived the 2 hours on horse back. One of the barn hands, Naeve, a girl of about 10, walked with Tomi the whole time - whew! I was tired for her.
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland137.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland138.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland145.jpg
We came back to Doolin for dinner, stopping only long enough to get petrol down the the side of the car at a pump that leaked. Another delicious dinner, and we managed to run into Peter and Morris and few others, and then Colum invited us to join them again. The bar was crowded with afternoon Rugby and Hurling watchers plus the weekend tourists. The night wore on, the drinks flowed, my headache banged and diminished until I had a shot of whiskey, the music played, and we had a good time again. More people came, and the bar was packed, glasses breaking as the night wore on. One bad incident with a drunken ass at the end of the night who wouldn't leave Tomi alone, in spite of my outright statement to get lost. And one awkward few minutes when Colum and a few others handed me a phone to call Ramah - because they were certain that he wanted to hear from me...at 5pm Chicago time while I was in the middle of a racket in a bar. Had to call home to clear that up once we were back at the B&B.
(I will put in pictures of our new friends once Tomi's pics are uploaded.)
The nights here are dark and calm. The sky is cloudy often, but the stars are crisp when they shine. The darkness is everywhere adn complete when the sun sets. It's welcoming and pleasant.
Sunday, 21/6
another day spent driving. It hurts my calves to drive all these hours.
The fog was think when we left Doolin near 11. The hills rolled off into cloud adn mist, the stone fences became one with the sky in teh distance. We wound up the coast toad again, to come upon teh Doolin church as it was letting out. The crowd was large, the village all in one place, save for the proprietors checking out and breakfasting the tourists. We had to weave through the lave - double parked and home bound Catholics - to descend back to the sea. As we came down towards Ballyvaughn, the fog remained a blanket ont eh Burren's rocky hilltops, shrouds that stretched out in grey over the silver and blue ocean to join the sky.
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland147.jpg The countryside on the western coast reminds my of northern California - hills, rocks, sparse trees, the flora is odd here - birds-of-paradise, palms, evergreens... all of there imports in this tamed land.
We got to Ballymote midafternoon, and Tomi was sick from drinking too much last night and still from the ferry. We found a bathroom, and then drove on into the countrside and found the Carrowkeel Megalithic Tombs. The roads in Ireland are all paved. Even the one-laner leading from Ballymote to Castle Baldwin, and then up tot eh hills where the Carrowkeel tombs sit on private property. The last mile or so was gravel, and then a hiking trail up the sheep's hill to the tombs.
It was a beautiful walk in the thick fog, the sheep chewing their cud and eyeing us suspiciously as we passed. A fine mist was falling, ad we were both damp - Tomi smelling more like wet sheep than damp girl because of her wool sweater - by the time we got to teh top of the hill. The fog continued to thicken, as well. The hills there, the ground, were all peat and springy. So comfy for walking on. The hills were covered with a small ground shrub - gorse, I think - that is soft to the touch. In the lowlands or wetter places there are wild iris (of which I dug one up and thanked the land for), and nettles - which I remembered the hard way. ouch. Of course, I couldn't find any of the companion plant to stop the sting. There are also these wonderfully twisted trees that grow randomly - usually in lee sides or near the iris'...they have small leaves that resemble an oak almost, and bunches of white flowers all over. They also tend to be very old and covered in lichen. The ones at Carrowkeel were also covered on teh lower brancehs with patches of wool from the itchy sheep.
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland153.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland152.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland156.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland157.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland158.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland159.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland160.jpg
http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k195/abelmom2000/Ireland/Ireland161.jpg
Back to Ballymote, where we relaxed for a bit before dinner. We gorged ourselves on pizza and then watched hours and hours of TV. The intrigue and drama and gore and non-stop was riveting yet appalling. My mind was hooked, but reeling. I am so glad we don't do TV at home, and will have to rein in Sol's daily morning movies after that reminder.
Monday, we planned to head back east again, to County Meath to stay in Trim, near Trim Castle. Then, Tuesday we head home. It felt like we were winding down, like Doolin was the heart of the trip. That was OK with me, as I was getting ready for home - the warmth and sun of summer, Solie, Ramah, the up-coming class, the anniversary party, and a break from spending so much money!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
