Well, the fact that this is just about my second post on this blog and it is currently February might be a signal that my batting average is quite high. I have an entire list of goals for the year, and I have accomplished none of them so far. However, I will try not dwell on this fact, because the podcast I've been tuning into encourages me (as a person with ADHD) to acknowledge my fuck-ups but then continue an inward discussion focused on moving forward, which is more productive.
This week was a long and difficult one. I worry that every week/day seems that way lately, and that maybe my depression is worsening. I feel somewhat trapped inside myself - like my ADHD thoughts have become more and more sporadic, and less and less easy to control. I asked myself, "Who am I in relation to this world? Where am I, what am I, and why do I feel as if I should be ten feet taller, so maybe I could gain more control over this chaos? What the FUCK am I going to do after graduation? I want to do everything. At once."
However, this beautiful Friday morning gave my soul the good lifting it needed. Today, I visited a school in Austin called the Waldorf School. I am part of a class (in my final year of undergrad education) called Innovative Schools. I am not an education major, and aside from the information my mother (who is a teacher) has divulged over the years, I do not know much about education. However, it seemed like an interesting class and an appropriate choice for this day and age in which the U.S.'s education system struggles more and more.
My Innovative Schools class wakes up SUPER early every other Friday to go on a field trip to a nearby school that is considered "innovative" in some way. After visiting three schools, I have gathered that the phrase "innovative school" includes schools, either public or private, which employ different, creative, and inventive forms of education for secondary-level students. The Waldorf school was located in a financially "privileged" part of Austin, on a secluded woods property. As I pulled into the long driveway of the school's parking lot, through the towering trees and still under the gray light of the breaking dawn, my hazy stupor was immediately broken when I saw a sign pointing to the school's tree house.
WHAT? This school is awesome already.
We walked over a rocky bridge and underneath a gentle canopy of evergreens, and approached a humble, single-story wooden building with the doors wide open, as if to welcome any guests - forest friends or otherwise. I felt comfortable and instantly soothed as we cramped into the tiny building; the walls were painted a soft pink, the staff all wore scarves or loose pants with their hair curly and flowing or short, with an androgynous edge. The teachers and staff seemed completely 'at home,' settled with themselves and their current positions. The woman who gave us the tour had an awkward, thinly trimmed shoulder haircut and wore a lumpy combination of khaki-cargo-capri pants, a white fleece hiking vest over a black 3/4 sleeve blouse and tennis shoes. Yes, this combination did catch my eye and bother me a little bit, but who cares? She didn't seem to, and who am I to judge? She was way more comfortable with herself than I am.
Moving forward, our class left the administration building and followed our tour guide through the woods, stepping on carefully-placed stones and stopped in the middle of what seemed to be just a peaceful meditation ground. To our left was a wooden fort that was built by the fifth-graders, their teachers and their parents. To our right - a fountain in which water flowed melodically down four levels of concave stones. The teacher explained that lessons are taught there so that students are able to engage and situate their bodies in accordance with the earth. Any subject could be taught that way - physics, art, math, etc. Students are constantly acknowledging the sense of "self" at Waldorf.
After observing an eighth grade class lecture (more like a French Revolution story-time), our class was lead to the fine arts building. Each room embodied a different narrative that was displayed through the paint on the wall; one music room was painted in gradation from peach to purple to light pink, to represent the personal journey each student has from birth to high school graduation. We sat in a room that was painted like a sunset and discussed the education system at Waldorf with the teacher a little further. I have reflected upon our discussion for an assignment, and maybe I'll share that later. My concern or question or contemplation or whatever it is from my behaviors and reactions to Waldorf and our class discussion is my focus here.
In art history, I have often studied gender representations, which includes situating the "feminine" or "female form" within popular culture and modern society. Where then, is my gendered and intellectual body? I know that this is an ancient question, which is normally asked when one is going through puberty, but this question is not sexual in nature. It is more of an academic and philosophical pursuit that I may never have a palpable answer to. I wish though, that I could know the answer, because life would probably be a lot easier that way. I think that as a person, I am too chaotic and malleable to my ever-changing surroundings that my "self" cannot be defined by means of gendered or age-specific choices or journeys.
My reaction to the Waldorf school and my inability to stay still the entire time or directly focus upon the information being spouted about the school confused and frightened me, but also gave me insight into my most honest being. Waldorf has an arts and crafts center, and everything there is underscored by artistic creativity and invention. (Knitting is used as an early form of learning math, I kid you not.) I believe that my inward self was so excited and intrigued by this spa/summer-camp-like institution that she could hardly contain her ideas and thoughts for her own artistic potential. As mentioned above, my thoughts are so scattered that I have a high fuck-up batting average. That may partially be because my journey thus far has not included enough stimulation for my truest, most artistic and creative soul. This soul, I think, is my strongest and most vibrant piece of me, and in order to succeed in life and become a balanced self, I must replenish my thirst for the arts. If I were to paint a self-portrait right now, it would most likely include a sunset of some kind, because even though that hippy-dippy school was weird as fuck, the people there are onto something innovative.
This week was a long and difficult one. I worry that every week/day seems that way lately, and that maybe my depression is worsening. I feel somewhat trapped inside myself - like my ADHD thoughts have become more and more sporadic, and less and less easy to control. I asked myself, "Who am I in relation to this world? Where am I, what am I, and why do I feel as if I should be ten feet taller, so maybe I could gain more control over this chaos? What the FUCK am I going to do after graduation? I want to do everything. At once."
However, this beautiful Friday morning gave my soul the good lifting it needed. Today, I visited a school in Austin called the Waldorf School. I am part of a class (in my final year of undergrad education) called Innovative Schools. I am not an education major, and aside from the information my mother (who is a teacher) has divulged over the years, I do not know much about education. However, it seemed like an interesting class and an appropriate choice for this day and age in which the U.S.'s education system struggles more and more.
My Innovative Schools class wakes up SUPER early every other Friday to go on a field trip to a nearby school that is considered "innovative" in some way. After visiting three schools, I have gathered that the phrase "innovative school" includes schools, either public or private, which employ different, creative, and inventive forms of education for secondary-level students. The Waldorf school was located in a financially "privileged" part of Austin, on a secluded woods property. As I pulled into the long driveway of the school's parking lot, through the towering trees and still under the gray light of the breaking dawn, my hazy stupor was immediately broken when I saw a sign pointing to the school's tree house.
WHAT? This school is awesome already.
We walked over a rocky bridge and underneath a gentle canopy of evergreens, and approached a humble, single-story wooden building with the doors wide open, as if to welcome any guests - forest friends or otherwise. I felt comfortable and instantly soothed as we cramped into the tiny building; the walls were painted a soft pink, the staff all wore scarves or loose pants with their hair curly and flowing or short, with an androgynous edge. The teachers and staff seemed completely 'at home,' settled with themselves and their current positions. The woman who gave us the tour had an awkward, thinly trimmed shoulder haircut and wore a lumpy combination of khaki-cargo-capri pants, a white fleece hiking vest over a black 3/4 sleeve blouse and tennis shoes. Yes, this combination did catch my eye and bother me a little bit, but who cares? She didn't seem to, and who am I to judge? She was way more comfortable with herself than I am.
Moving forward, our class left the administration building and followed our tour guide through the woods, stepping on carefully-placed stones and stopped in the middle of what seemed to be just a peaceful meditation ground. To our left was a wooden fort that was built by the fifth-graders, their teachers and their parents. To our right - a fountain in which water flowed melodically down four levels of concave stones. The teacher explained that lessons are taught there so that students are able to engage and situate their bodies in accordance with the earth. Any subject could be taught that way - physics, art, math, etc. Students are constantly acknowledging the sense of "self" at Waldorf.
After observing an eighth grade class lecture (more like a French Revolution story-time), our class was lead to the fine arts building. Each room embodied a different narrative that was displayed through the paint on the wall; one music room was painted in gradation from peach to purple to light pink, to represent the personal journey each student has from birth to high school graduation. We sat in a room that was painted like a sunset and discussed the education system at Waldorf with the teacher a little further. I have reflected upon our discussion for an assignment, and maybe I'll share that later. My concern or question or contemplation or whatever it is from my behaviors and reactions to Waldorf and our class discussion is my focus here.
In art history, I have often studied gender representations, which includes situating the "feminine" or "female form" within popular culture and modern society. Where then, is my gendered and intellectual body? I know that this is an ancient question, which is normally asked when one is going through puberty, but this question is not sexual in nature. It is more of an academic and philosophical pursuit that I may never have a palpable answer to. I wish though, that I could know the answer, because life would probably be a lot easier that way. I think that as a person, I am too chaotic and malleable to my ever-changing surroundings that my "self" cannot be defined by means of gendered or age-specific choices or journeys.
My reaction to the Waldorf school and my inability to stay still the entire time or directly focus upon the information being spouted about the school confused and frightened me, but also gave me insight into my most honest being. Waldorf has an arts and crafts center, and everything there is underscored by artistic creativity and invention. (Knitting is used as an early form of learning math, I kid you not.) I believe that my inward self was so excited and intrigued by this spa/summer-camp-like institution that she could hardly contain her ideas and thoughts for her own artistic potential. As mentioned above, my thoughts are so scattered that I have a high fuck-up batting average. That may partially be because my journey thus far has not included enough stimulation for my truest, most artistic and creative soul. This soul, I think, is my strongest and most vibrant piece of me, and in order to succeed in life and become a balanced self, I must replenish my thirst for the arts. If I were to paint a self-portrait right now, it would most likely include a sunset of some kind, because even though that hippy-dippy school was weird as fuck, the people there are onto something innovative.
