the end

One of my favorite drama games involves a giant imaginary map of the United States on the floor. It starts with everyone standing in the place on the map where they were born, then moves on to where they say they're from, and so on, until everyone is asked to stand somewhere they once spent a really magical summer. Every time I've played this game, I've immediately made my way to upstate New York, where I went to summer camp, but next time I play, I think I'll end up in Minneapolis. It's strange to think this magical summer is over (I arrived back in Evanston two days ago), but I'm excited to be back with friends and my own apartment. Leaving the TAT basement for the last time on Friday was unbelievably hard - the people I met and the things I learned from each of them have made me grow so much, and I'm so grateful to have had this experience.

How we left our mark on CTC - the blue handprint on the bottom right is mine!

I went into last week's camp, Madeline and the Gypsies, in the second week of its two-week run. It felt really different to be coming in after a class dynamic had already been firmly established, but it was a good experience regardless. The teaching artist, Emily, only worked with the young kids all summer, so it was exciting to see her work with older kids. I liked having the opportunity to see two teaching artists work with age ranges outside of their comfort zone two weeks in a row. Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing's teaching artist really didn't change much about his teaching style for the older kids, while Emily used such different methods of classroom management for this group than I had seen her use in K-3 camps. The dynamic in her classroom was still very similar, but she used completely different exercises, especially for warm-ups.

Emily comes from a circus and clowning background, so her approach with Madeline and the Gypsies was so fun to watch. The story largely took place at a carnival, so there were a few scenes that featured cool acrobatics (with 4th-6th graders!). But my favorite part of the process was Emily's decision to use a shadow screen, which became a totally essential part of the show. It was such a clever solution to the "how do we teach a ten-year-old how to swallow a sword safely in just two weeks?" question, and it looked really polished and interesting. The kids love it, too (because who doesn't like shadow puppets?), and I had lots of fun being behind the shadow screen, watching the magic happen. 

On Wednesday, I took the day off from the Theatre Arts Training basement to attend CTC's Neighborhood Bridges conference. Neighborhood Bridges is a program that goes into public schools and uses storytelling and creative drama to teach critical literacy, a method of reading and writing that recognizes that no text is neutral or objective, and asks students to question what appears normal, then to re-think it. The keynote speaker, Vivian Vasquez, gave a really fascinating speech on young children's abilities to create change in their communities when given the opportunity.

My favorite part of the conference, though, was the last workshop I attended. We started in three groups and were asked to listen to a short fable from a specific character's point of view. We were then asked to react in character to the story. Did we feel as though we had been fairly represented? What did we think of the decisions made by other characters in the story? We then created a short scene in which each group retold the story from their characters' points of view. It was such a tangible way to create change and find ways to include silenced voices. Some of the teaching artists involved in Neighborhood Bridges talked about how activities like that one give children agency to recognize unfair circumstances in their lives (for example, many of them come from abusive households) and know that they have the power to change them by looking at things from different points of view. I was so inspired by the people at this conference and left the building on Wednesday feeling absolutely positive that this field is where I want to be.

Outside of CTC, we'll have to rewind quite a bit so I can tell you about some of the most incredible experiences I had in Minneapolis. The first was Ball's Cabaret, an open mic night every Saturday at midnight at the beautiful Southern Theater. Ball's has been running for twenty-one years, making it the longest running midnight cabaret in the world, and I'm pretty sure there is nothing else like it in the entire universe. For those of you who know Rives, it should suffice to say that Leslie Ball, the MC, is a female version of Rives. She has long grey hair, sings folksongs, and is one of the kindest, most generous souls I've ever encountered. The cabaret is open to anyone who wants to perform, as long as they've attended Ball's as an audience member once before. And like any open mic night, it's subject to some incredible performers and some truly awful performers. But what sets it apart is the unparalleled level of support in the Ball's community. I watched a couple workshop a dance piece that they're opening at the Guthrie in the fall and then watched Leslie Ball tear up because the piece started as a performance almost ten years ago at Ball's Cabaret. I also watched a stand up comedian who could barely project his voice to the second row get as many laughs and as much applause as you might expect George Carlin to get, were he still alive and had he decided to perform at Ball's. After the performances, everyone is invited to have candy and mingle in the lobby, and I talked for a bit with Leslie Ball, who was absolutely thrilled that my friend and I had found our way to Ball's all the way from Northwestern. One of my biggest regrets about this summer in Minneapolis is that I didn't make it to Ball's sooner, but if I'm ever back, it'll be one of the first things I do.

On Sunday, I went with another intern to Mixed Precipitation's production of The Return of King Idomeneo, a Mozart (picnic) operetta. The project travels around to different community gardens in the Twin Cities area, and the performance I saw was at the Eat Street Community Garden. The weather was a little cloudy, but the rain held off the entire time, and I'm so glad it did. Mixed Precipitation is a really creative, wonderful company that came about through a collaboration between a director and a caterer. The show was half Mozart's music and half original music written in various different styles from the 1960s, and the show's book was created collaboratively by the entire cast and creative team. They took the story of The Return of King Idomeneo and reset it in the 60s (with really beautiful  vintage costumes). But the best part was that at various points in the show, food would be passed around to audience members to illustrate what was happening - when the king's son set out to sea, we had boats made out of cucumbers stuffed with feta cheese and topped with dill; when the town was covered in algae as a result of Neptune's wrath, we had "seaweed on Neptune's trident" (sauteed kale wrapped around a compostable plastic fork). The production perfectly encapsulated almost everything I love about Minneapolis - really creative art, delicious locally sourced food, vintage clothes, and a beautiful environment. It was absolutely magnificent.

One of my favorite things about Minneapolis is that Black Eyed Susans are everywhere.
These were right outside of the Eat Street Community Garden.

Thursday, after work, my roommate and I made our way to the Walker Art Center, a modern art museum in the Loring Park area of Minneapolis. I love art museums, and this one was particularly fascinating. The Minneapolis Sculpture Garden is outside, so we walked around for awhile before making our way inside the museum. We saw a number of great exhibits, but my favorite was called "This Will Have Been: Art, Love, and Politics in the 1980s." It featured a lot of feminist art and art about the AIDS crisis, which I found so interesting that I completely forgot to take any pictures. You'll have to go to the website and check it out if you're interested. I did take a few pictures in other exhibits and in the sculpture garden, though, and since I think visual art speaks for itself, here they are.

"Bits & Pieces Put Together to Present a Semblance of a Whole," by Lawrence Weiner 

A squished lady! I couldn't find the artist's information anywhere, but I loved this sculpture. 

The most famous sculpture in the garden, Spoonbridge and Cherry by Claes Oldenburg 

"The Parachutist," by Robert Mallary

I already miss Minneapolis more than I ever thought I would have. It's definitely somewhere I'll end up again, though I have no idea when. In the meantime, I'll just keep listening to my mpls summer playlist, which may just be the best playlist I've ever made. I guess I was pretty inspired.

1. Scenic World - Beirut
2. Hard Believer - First Aid Kit
3. Lonesome - Dr. Dog
4. My Body - Young the Giant
5. Dancing On My Own - Robyn
6. King of Spain - The Tallest Man on Earth
7. Treehouse - I'm From Barcelona
8. East Harlem - Beirut
9. We Fools - Leslie Ball (!!!)
10. White Winter Hymnal - Fleet Foxes
11. The Wild Hunt - The Tallest Man on Earth
12. Do the Trick - Dr. Dog
13. Good Day - Jukebox the Ghost
14. Some Nights - Fun.
15. 1904 - The Tallest Man on Earth
16. Santa Fe - Beirut
17. Shadow People - Dr. Dog

Thanks for reading. Maybe someday soon I'll have more blog-worthy adventures, and if I do, I'll make sure to let you all know! 

Love,

Alison

pierogis, people watching, and pancakes

It's been awhile since I last posted. I won't make any excuses, but I will apologize in advance for the length of this post. I have a lot of ground to cover!

This past week I was in a 4th-6th grade camp called Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing. We worked off a script based on the Judy Blume book by the same title. For those of you unfamiliar with the book, like I was before starting this camp, the story is about a fourth grader named Peter and his struggles with his three year old brother, Fudge. I think Fudge is a nickname, but I never managed to figure out what the kid's real name was. Fudge is, to put it lightly, a nightmare. He bangs incessantly on pots and pans, he eats Peter's pet turtle, he jumps off a jungle gym and knocks out his front teeth, and commits any number of other behavioral atrocities you could think of. 

I'm not sure if it was just the group of kids or if it was the influence of Fudge (all the kids thought he was hilarious and wanted to play him in every scene), but this was one of the most difficult groups I've worked with so far. It was nearly impossible to get them to stay focused, which generally doesn't bother me, but their unfocused energy wasn't creative so much as it was just distracted. There were a few moments when we were able to harness that energy and get the kids to put together something creative and, ultimately, really funny, but those moments were rare. Needless to say, it was a pretty tough week. 

The teaching artist for this camp, Matt, has only taught K-3 and preschool all summer, which is what he teaches during the school year. Seeing him adapt his teaching for a 4-6 camp was really fascinating. Matt has a great sense of humor and is a very gentle teacher, which helped me to keep a level head throughout the week. He is also the first teacher I've ever seen use storytelling so effectively as a classroom management technique. After lunch, when the kids were the most distracted, he had them sit down in a circle and vote whether they wanted to hear a myth, a legend, or a fairytale. He'd then explain what the genre they chose meant (for example, a legend contains elements of truth, so he'd ask the students to listen for parts of the story they thought were true) and then he'd start the story. He always told in a very quiet, gentle voice, so if they wanted to hear it, they needed to remain completely quiet and still. Matt is an incredible storyteller, and his sense of humor really comes through in his tellings, so after the first story, the kids demanded another story every day. After his tellings, we'd discuss the themes of the story and how they might connect to Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing. Once we had a really engaging discussion about gender after his telling of the Italian folktale "The Robber with a Witch's Head." He never underestimated their ability to discuss the themes of a story, which was refreshing, since I think Judy Blume's book does underestimate the comprehension ability of a fourth grader. I think it was refreshing for the kids to have to think and process, rather than just absorb the silliness of Fudge's antics.

As I've said before, I signed up to volunteer at the Minnesota Fringe Festival. The festival began last Thursday and ends today. I've finished my twelve volunteer shifts and have seen four shows (I may try to see another tonight, but we'll see). The festival's atmosphere is really exciting. Five of the venues are within a minute or two's walking distance of each other, so in the thirty minutes between shows, there are hundreds of people on the street outside each of the venues, all wearing their Fringe admission buttons and talking about theatre. Honestly, I haven't liked anything I've seen so far at the Fringe, and since the shows are selected by lottery, I sort of doubt I'd have really loved anything I didn't see. Some of the pieces seem like solid first drafts, but I wonder whether they'll be workshopped further - everyone seems really confident about their work as it stands. Despite the somewhat sub-par quality of theatre at the Fringe and the occasionally stressful volunteering environment, Fringe has been a pretty good experience. If nothing else, it's kept my weekends busy and allowed me to meet some interesting people. 

Amazingly, between my crazy week at CTC and volunteering at the Fringe, I've found some free time to have more exciting Minneapolis adventures. Last weekend, on her last day in town, Ilana and I made our way to the Seward Cafe for the customary weekend buckwheat pancakes, and then wandered over the the Northern Clay Center, a really beautiful ceramics and pottery gallery in Seward. I know next to nothing about ceramics or pottery, so I'll just leave you with a few photos of pieces I liked.

My friend Lizzy and I had planned on seeing Tallest Man on Earth at First Avenue last Monday, but when we tried to buy tickets, the show was sold out. Because my goal this summer was to live everything as fully as possible, we decided to take a chance and walked up and down the line to get into the venue, sketchily asking people if they had any extra tickets. And someone did! We managed to get in and see a really beautiful concert. I think Tallest Man on Earth is much more suited to an outdoor venue in the middle of the afternoon, but I'm so glad we went, and I haven't been able to stop listening to him since the concert.

Outside First Avenue, as we tried to score tickets, we met this homeless man, who asked us to sign his "birthday card." He was wearing a white jacket and a white hat, both of which were covered in people's signatures. I chose to sign the piece of cardboard he had propped up against his legs. I ran into him again today outside the Seward Cafe, and in addition to his signed jacket, hat, and piece of cardboard he had at First Avenue, he had a birthday bike for people to sign in metallic marker. I'm not sure if his birthday is actually coming up, but he's hands down the most interesting person I've met here. I wish I had had more of an opportunity to ask him about himself, but I'm content to leave it up to my imagination.

Happy birthday to this guy!

This weekend, I made my way over the Stone Arch Bridge to the Twin Cities Polish Festival on Main Street. If you know me, you know I'm really proud of my Polish heritage (it's not entirely because of the food, but that plays a huge part). The Polish Festival was a beautiful event, complete with vendors of  beautiful handmade Polish Christmas ornaments, Polish pottery, painted wooden eggs, and, of course, plenty of pierogi, potato pancakes, and kielbasa. I waited in line for twenty minutes to get pierogis at "U Babci" ("grandmother" in Polish), and they were worth every minute of the wait. I think they were the best pierogis I've ever had (not counting my family's recipe - nothing could beat that). There was a tent which housed a few different polka bands, my favorite of which, purely for their hilarious band name, was called Doctor Kielbasa. Seeing dozens of old Polish couples polkaing made me tear up a little, and I wish I had had the guts to ask one of them to teach me to polka. 

The Festival also includes a film festival at the St. Anthony Main Theatre, where I saw a really interesting film called "Irena Sendler: In the Name of Their Mothers," about an incredibly inspiring woman who smuggled thousands of children out of the Warsaw ghetto and saved their lives. The trailer for the film is below.

This morning was my last trip to the Seward Cafe. It's crazy to think that I only have a week left here. I won't reflect on the entire summer yet, but I can reflect on how important the Seward Cafe has been to my experience. It's been really comforting to have a place where people know me well enough to joke about making blackberry pancake scented perfume. The Seward Cafe may also be the best place in the world for people watching. Today, I saw a hipster in a sunflower t-shirt unknowingly sitting next to a napkin dispenser with a sunflower sticker on it advertising "Earth Day 25 - Let's Never Call it a Day." While I was appreciating the image of his shirt next to that napkin dispenser, he used the phrase "to witness the human spirit" casually in conversation. That's not something you'd witness anywhere but the Seward Cafe.

And, of course, my summer would not have been the same without those blackberry buckwheat pancakes. Because I've never posted a photo of them, here they are - my last two Seward Cafe pancakes.

fab brown rice

The little ones are much more difficult this time around, but somehow I've managed to stay alive and even blog on a Thursday! I feel like I've managed to connect with the kids so much more this week than I did last time I worked with these age groups - it's like it took me awhile to learn their language but now we're finally communicating. 

There's one girl (I'll call her Alex) who came in on the first day and didn't say a word. She cowered off to the side and only participated when the whole group was participating, and even then only occasionally. On Tuesday, though, her mom brought her in half an hour early and, through a series of events that are probably not interesting enough to explain in detail, I saw Alex crying to her mom and mentioned it to our teaching artist, Chris. Chris suggested that when Alex finally came into the room, I should go over to her and check in, since we connected when I saw her get upset in the hallway. I did, and after asking her a number of yes or no questions (because she refused to speak) about her favorite color and her pink headband covered in little roses, she finally started to answer me with more than a nod or shake of her head, and for the rest of the day we could barely get her to stop talking. She still clings to me and holds my hand through almost the entire class, but she's far from timid now. I was so proud of her, and it made me realize how much I've learned about how to read younger kids and figure out what they need to happen before they're willing to participate. It's an entirely different game than it is with the 4th-6th graders that I've gotten so used to this summer, but it's incredibly rewarding. 

I think preschool is such a fantastic time. It's amazing to look at the world through their eyes and realize what a huge risk they're taking by just stepping into the classroom without their parents, let alone putting together a play with people they've never met before. The journey they take over the course of one week is so huge, and I'm really happy I've been able to be a part of that. Besides, who wouldn't melt hearing these adorable little humans say things like, "all the good feelings make you powerful" or "when I close my eyes I'm painted all over!" It's really a gift to get to work with these kids every morning. 

The Minnesota Fringe starts today, and I stopped by the info desk today to pick up my volunteer packet, which includes comps to twelve Fringe shows (one for each of the shows at which I'm volunteering). The info desk is located in Intermedia Arts one of a number of different Fringe venues. Before getting there, I was a little irritated that I had to go a mile out of my way for my volunteer packet, but it was absolutely worth it. Intermedia Arts is one of the coolest places I've ever been. They are "Minnesota's premier multidisciplinary, multicultural arts organization. [Their] mission is to be a catalyst that builds understanding among people through art." What could be better?

The building is white brick, with "Art. Changes. Everything." painted in large, black letters on the front. The space houses an art gallery, a theatre space, and a small cafe. The exhibit currently in the gallery is called "We Exist," and is dedicated to artwork inspired by graffiti. 

There's also a smaller installment in the back of the gallery by artist-in-residence Robert Farid Karimi. The installment is a room whose walls are covered with recipes and food-inspired poetry. One wall is a chalkboard where visitors can write their thoughts about food or contribute recipes. There's a table in the middle of the exhibit with jars of spices and small baggies so you can create a spice mixture to take with you, and the entire room smells absolutely delicious. Pots and pans hang everywhere; there's a working, stocked refrigerator; and a really wonderful soundtrack plays over a muted cooking show on the small TV in the corner. It was magical.

My favorite part of the exhibit was a small section in the front of the room with a pile of index cards. There were instructions to take a recipe, but only if you left one of your own. I jotted down my favorite chocolate chip cookie recipe and found a recipe for "fab brown rice" that I took home and made for dinner tonight. It just so happened that I had all the ingredients, so I'm convinced it was meant to be. 

The recipe called for half a green pepper, and I recently bought these beautiful purple and white bell peppers from the Seward Coop. The purple bell pepper tastes just like a green bell pepper (and is actually green on the inside!) so I used one of those, and threw in one of the somewhat spicier white bell peppers (really though, they just have the aftertaste of a hot pepper, minus all the heat) to give it a little more flavor. Though the recipe was a little bland, I liked it a lot, and it was my first time cooking rice by sautéing it raw first. I think there's lots of room for improvement, but it was a great start, and the story behind the recipe gives it all the flavor it really needs. 

first avenue, olympics, and the other twin

I needed this weekend. The last two days of Phantom Tollbooth were astonishingly difficult: trying to create a 45-minute play out of a long, wordy novel is nearly impossible, especially with a group of kids who are so invested in the story that the idea of skipping parts is just unacceptable. We ended up with so much great material that we had to cut two huge scenes on Friday, which, needless to say, was difficult for the kids, making it a really rough Friday for all of us in Tollbooth-land. The day persisted in making me miserable when, less than 200 feet away from my house, I hit too big of a bump on my bike and took all the air out of my back tire. 

Like I said, though, this weekend made it all better. My friend Ilana and I had tickets to see Dr. Dog at First Avenue & 7th Street Entry Friday night. We started the night out with chips and salsa and the Olympics opening ceremonies (if you missed them, don't bother looking for them - they were pretty awful) and then made our way to the Downtown area with plenty of time to spare before the opener, Field Report, took the stage. First Avenue is a really cool venue: it's massive, but somehow still manages to feel really intimate. The outside walls are covered with stars with the names of every artist who has ever performed there, from Booker T. & the MGs to Nirvana to Cypress Hill. The music nerd in me was freaking out about all the history - I was going to be standing in the same room as Paul Simon and Kurt Cobain did once upon a time! 

It almost goes without saying that Dr. Dog gave an incredible concert. I can't believe how privileged I was to have been able to see Beirut and Dr. Dog in the same week. (Somehow I forgot to blog about Beirut - I think it's because I'm still speechless from the beautiful concert they gave.) Because I lived on a little tiny island for most of my life, I didn't spend high school seeing concerts, so they're still really novel for me. I'm running out of words to describe these two concerts, so I'll give you a few photos to make up for it. 

Beirut

Beirut (We met the accordionist after the show!)

Dr. Dog

The combination of Phantom Tollbooth and the Dr. Dog concert was pretty exhausting, so my lazy Saturday morning at the Seward Cafe felt long overdue. After buckwheat pancakes, half a gluten free vanilla cupcake (I never would have guessed!) and a few cups of coffee, I found the energy to walk my bike over to The Hub Bike Coop. The fix for my flat took far less time and cost a lot less than I expected, and the coop was a really cool place. The plan was then to grab some takeout from the Afro Deli, a Somalian restaurant in the neighborhood, and then watch some Olympics. It was my first encounter with Somalian food, and I loved it! The Twin Cities have the largest population of Somali people in the United States (don't ask me why), so where better to try some kéké and sambusa? 

Vegetable sambusa, fried dumplings filled with lentils, cilantro, and onions; and kéké, doughy noodles and vegetables with cilantro and "Somali seasoning"

The rest of Saturday was spent lounging on the couch watching people exert far more energy in a matter of minutes than I had all day (all week, probably). Today started out similarly, but Ilana and I managed to get up off the couch and take a four mile bike ride into St. Paul. It was my first adventure into Minneapolis' smaller, more residential twin, and it proved to be a really lovely place to spend a Sunday. The bike ride across the Mississippi was beautiful, though once we hit St. Paul, the roads became far hillier (who knew the midwest had hills?). 

The view from the bridge to St. Paul

By the time we hit Izzy's Ice Cream, Ilana and I had without a doubt earned our ice cream. Izzy's is a really wonderful place that serves really inventive ice cream flavors, and with each scoop you buy, you get an izzy for free. What is an izzy? It's a mini scoop of a different flavor of ice cream (the size of a watermelon scoop) on top of your regular sized scoop. It's absolutely adorable. Because we just so happened to make it to St. Paul for Izzy's 12th birthday, we got a second izzy on top of our ice cream for free! I had a scoop of raspberry chocolate chip topped with an izzy of Norwegian chai and an izzy of Summit Oatmeal Stout. I thought it couldn't get any better, but then they gave us free t-shirts!

The weekend is coming to a close with women's gymnastics and leftover Somali food. It's been the perfect balance of adventure and relaxation before another week of four- and five-year olds in the mornings and K-3 in the afternoons. If it's anything like last time, you may not be hearing from me much this week. 

behavior, diagnosis, and an arrest

The week with Phantom Tollbooth is officially halfway over, and I'm amazed how quickly it's gone by. We're creating our own script from the novel, not using the already existing stage adaptation, so we've been working incredibly hard to get this 200-something page book packed with wordplay and life lessons on its feet. It's exhausting, but the kids are working really hard, and all the interns in the room are taking on a lot of responsibility to make it happen.

Nancy, the teaching artist, is my favorite that I've worked with so far (we also worked together on The Lottery). She's so intuitive and really understands what the group needs in order to be productive. Because we have a huge group of kids (23!) and four interns in the room, she's been splitting the group up into smaller groups to stage individual scenes. I love how much she trusts the interns in the room, and I think working with her has really allowed me to grow not only as a teacher but as a director (who knew?!). It's been really rewarding to make choices about how to best tell the story with this specific group of kids, and more than any previous week, I think I'm connecting and communicating with them in a very exciting way. 

One of the girls in our group has a fairly severe form of Asperger's, a disorder on the autism spectrum. Although I know kids on the spectrum, I've only worked with one before, and his case was far more mild than this girl's - let's call her Megan. Megan really loves this story, and cares so much about telling it accurately and fully, which has been a little difficult, since we have to cut and adapt a lot of the story so it fits in our 45-minute sharing time. For the most part, though, she's been doing well, and her father has told us she's having a great time at camp. We ran into a few problems with her the first day, when she would wander away from her group to make faces at herself in the mirror. Though the other kids in the class have been great about including her, the other interns and I noticed a few snickers at her slightly odd behavior and weren't sure how to handle Megan's wandering or the kids' reactions. We brought it up with Debra at our morning meeting on Tuesday, and, as usual, Debra had really illuminating thoughts about Megan.

The second we mentioned that Megan was wandering away from her group, Debra asked us why we thought she was doing that. It's such an important question that often people (myself included) don't think to ask when there's a diagnosis handy. Megan doesn't wander away from her group because she's on the spectrum, she wanders away from her group because she's uncomfortable in groups. Reminding myself of that has made working with her so much easier, because instead of chalking her behavior up to Asperger's, I'm just observing. And it's true: not all kids with Asperger's wander away from groups, so Megan's behavior belongs entirely to her, and not to her diagnosis. As far as the other kids' reactions go, Debra wasn't concerned. She told us to be conscious of how Megan reacted to their behavior, but as long as it wasn't bothering her, talking to the kids and explaining that Megan acts the way she does because she has a disability would just alienate her even more from the group. They don't need to know that she has Asperger's, and really, neither did we. If nothing else, I think often diagnoses like Asperger's or even ADD make it easier to make excuses for behavior, rather than really observing and getting to know the kid for who they are, not for their diagnosis. 

On an entirely different note, I had a really fascinating experience yesterday when a few of the interns and I went out for dinner after work at a restaurant near CTC. As Nick Drake played in the background and I waited for my organic grilled three-cheese sandwich (I wasn't feeling too adventurous), we saw a man get arrested outside. The two policemen handcuffed him, patted him down, emptied his pockets, and then realized they forgot to remove his backpack. They held him still while they un-cuffed him, took his backpack off, and cuffed him again. After about ten minutes of searching through his belongings and walky-talky-ing, they released the man and left. 

I don't know why witnessing that affected me as much as it did, but the juxtaposition of Nick Drake and organic food with an arrest (okay, they let him go, but still) was really jarring. It's always amazing to me that I can be having a perfectly normal day while twenty feet away from me, some man is having what I can only assume is one of the worst days of his life. It's something I've always been aware of, but I've never seen it manifested so concretely right in front of my eyes. And what's more, that man and I will probably never speak, even though I witnessed a huge, emotional moment in his life. 

I think I'm going to dedicate my yoga practice to that man tonight. I hope his week gets better. 

extended child's pose

It's been a long week, to say the least. Working with the young kids has been so completely exhausting that I only made it to yoga once this week, and I clearly have been slacking off on blogging. I thought of my free time this week as one long extended child's pose (for those of you who aren't familiar with yoga, that's the restorative posture you're always invited to use during class when you need a break). Maybe I'm making excuses, but by the time I got home every night, my body was begging me for mac and cheese and episode after episode of How I Met Your Mother. And if yoga has taught me anything this summer, it's to listen to my body, so listen I did. I'm not ashamed to admit that I finished all of season one and the only thing I actually cooked all week was a quinoa salad to bring for lunch every day.

I'm not sure how to reflect on this past week. Nothing stayed consisted between the five days of camp, and it was agreed among almost all of the interns that this week was a weird one. One of my teaching artists was out for a day, so the interns had to lead the class with a different teaching artist there to make sure everything stayed on track. There were a number of times when I was asked to step out of the classroom to take care of unforeseen issues - a pale, shaky, nauseous camper curled up in the green room and two missing interns who needed to be replaced for the morning, to mention a few. Something about this week was just off, for various reasons, and I think it really contributed to my exhaustion.

Weirdness aside, I think I learned a lot this week. The four- and five-year-olds were surprisingly angelic (I talked to the teaching artist and she and I agreed that their good behavior had a lot to do with our tiny class size - only eight kids - and our two to three student-teacher ratio) and just an absolute delight to work with. We spent the week reading different countries' versions of fairytales and noticing the differences between them, and creating our own story that we transported and adapted to different countries. Of course, when we moved our story (which consisted of a flying trashcan that traveled around the town collecting garbage, assisted by a knight and his horse) to Peru, we didn't translate it into Spanish or set it in Machu Pichu. Instead, the kids decided that Peru was "backwards land," so here, the cats chased the dogs and the trashcan couldn't fly, she could only walk. And in China, we met lots of people who told lots of silly knock-knock jokes. Working with this age group took a lot of synthesizing of the kids' creative ideas, and a lot of simplifying slightly more complicated concepts. Our game of "Yes, Let's!" turned into "What do you see in your imagination?" I think my favorite moment all week was during this game, when one of our kids' imagination had us all act out being "snakes in Boston." It's amazing to be around these kids and witness what so many artists have to fight to find: completely uninhibited imagination. I don't know a single adult who, when asked what their imagination showed them, would immediately shout out, "snakes in Boston!" but I know hundreds who would kill for that level of impulsive creativity.

The K-3 camp presented much more of a struggle for me. Somehow, an afternoon with them felt longer than seven hours with 4th-6th graders. Though they were still remarkably creative and individually, really wonderful kids, the group of twenty that we worked with constantly fed off of one another's distracted energy, making it nearly impossible to keep the room in control for more than three minutes at a time. Even with five interns and a teaching artist in the room, we struggled to stay sane and to keep the kids sane, too. Their play eventually came together, and I was really proud of the sharing they had today, but the journey was rough. I think K-3 is not the right age group for me, but I'm happy I worked with them and really value a lot of the relationships I built with individual kids. 

That last paragraph feels like a cop-out. Like I said, I'm not sure how to reflect on my time this week, and K-3 is a huge part of that. I hope I get to spend more time in K-3 camps, even though I wasn't in love with this week's experience. I'm still trying to process this age group, and I think, if anything, more time is all that will make them make sense to me. 

Like I said, life outside of CTC has been far less exciting this week than usual. It's been a lot of hanging out at home and watching Netflix. But on Monday night (it feels so long ago, but I guess it really has been that long since I last blogged) I went to the "Fringe for All," an event hosted by the Minnesota Fringe Festival that featured three minutes each of thirty Fringe plays, twenty-eight of which were absolutely horrific. I'm not sure if I've mentioned yet that I'm volunteering at the Fringe this summer, but because I'm a volunteer, this ninety minute preview was free. And thank God it was, because I think I might have rioted if I had paid for it. The Minnesota Fringe chooses its shows by lottery, so even if you submit a terrible piece of theatre, you have as good a chance as anyone of getting produced. On one hand, I think it's great that there's an outlet here for anyone and everyone to express themselves through theatre, but on the other hand, I really struggle to find the value in producing really awful work. What, you might be wondering, could possibly be so awful? Try five  middle-aged men in tank tops dancing seductively on chairs to Destiny's Child's "Bootylicious." 

I'm not kidding.

On a lighter and more exciting note, my other relatively exciting non-CTC experience this week is summed up by the following photo of JJ's Coffee and Wine Bistro's cookies and cream ice cream cupcake - like ice cream cake but in cupcake form! I don't know why I've never encountered something like this before, but I have a feeling it's going to catch on in a huge way. My taste buds have never been happier.

This week has been a week of lists for me, so I feel it's only appropriate to end this blog with a (Minneapo)list of things I'm looking forward to:

• Fringe training (even though the theatre was awful, I'm excited to see what this festival is all about)
• Spending time at the lake 
• Seeing Beirut in concert tomorrow night!!!
• Pancakes at the Seward Cafe on Sunday morning (who's surprised?)
• Season two of How I Met Your Mother
• Spending next week with my favorite teaching artist (Nancy, from my first week in The Lottery)
• The Phantom Tollbooth!
• Actually making it to yoga next week

I hope you all have a great weekend! Again, I'll try my best to be better at blogging next week - hopefully the 4th-6th graders in my next camp, Phantom Tollbooth, will be less exhausting.

another long post about another incredible weekend

I'm always amazed at how much can happen in just a few days. Take that as a warning: you may want to get comfortable, because this is bound to be a long post.

The rest of Spooky Town was an adventure, to say the least. Somehow we managed to get everything done, but it wasn't easy. Our last two stories happened differently than the first one: the script for our second story was developed through improvisations and belonged completely to the group, and the third story was narrated by Laurie and pantomimed by the kids. Although developing a script was certainly ambitious (I think this camp would have benefitted from being two weeks long), I was really glad it was a part of the process. It gave the kids a real feeling of ownership over the process and allowed for a lot of silliness and fun in exploring an otherwise creepy story. 

I've mentioned a few times on this blog that I've been struggling with the idea of theatre training for young people, as opposed to the process-based creative drama I'm used to. I think Spooky Town did a good job of focusing on the process while still ending in a pretty fantastic performance. It's interesting being in a room with kids who have signed up for a theatre camp - there's very little hesitation to jump in and take risks, and it's possible to have an extremely high level of individual exposure almost immediately, because these kids are already excited about performing. I'm sure this also had a lot to do with the room's ethos, which was immediately set up as very supportive and welcoming. Though I'm by no means a total convert to theatre training over creative drama, I was excited to witness the two come together in the way they did this week, and it was fun to be able to just jump in, without having to build up to it.

Outside of the CTC basement, I've been having some incredible adventures. They started on Thursday, with a trip to French Meadow Bakery and Cafe, the country's first ever certified organic bakery. I had the Ahi tuna sandwich special with goat cheese and arugula. And yes, it was as incredible as it sounds. I also had the chance of picking at my friend's rosemary potato flatbread pizza, which didn't disappoint either. I followed that with the cappuccino torte, which was so beautiful and decadent I couldn't finish it all, and if you know me, you know that almost never happens with dessert. I wish I had thought to take pictures, but I was too excited about the food to remember. 

We then made our way over to the Guthrie for their production of The Sunshine Boys, the only hiccup in my otherwise perfect weekend. I've never been a Neil Simon fan, and this show did nothing to convert me. It was an incredibly high quality production of a horrible, dated script. I really struggle with the idea of producing theatre like this for the sake of pleasing subscribers, but of course, the house was packed on a Thursday night. It's worth noting, though, that almost no one in the audience was under fifty, and looking around before the show, I could count the number of non-white audience members on one hand. This script in particular was Neil Simon at his most offensive. I know a lot of it comes from the conventions of the 1970s, but the sexism and racism that pervaded nearly every minute of the play made me wonder why anyone would consider this play worth producing in 2012. 

Friday night, my friend Ilana and I made our way over to Mesa Pizza in Dinkytown, famous for their incredible macaroni and cheese pizza. I had tried the mac and cheese pizza a few weeks ago, so this time I decided to try their Avocado Delight pizza: black beans, avocados, tomatoes, and feta cheese. Again, a complete success, and this time I remembered to take a picture!

I think it's safe to say that Saturday was my favorite Minneapolis day so far. My friend Lizzy, a fellow CTC intern, told me about a vintage store she heard about called Mighty Swell. It's only open every once in a while (I think one weekend a month but I'm not sure) and it's located in an obscure residential neighborhood in south Minneapolis - so obscure, in fact, that Ilana and I got lost on our way there and ended up taking a cab. We pushed through that little setback and I couldn't be happier that we did. The store is long and narrow, and lined with clothing racks packed with reasonably priced, beautiful vintage clothing. We spent an hour and a half just looking, and I walked out with two new belts, a couple new rompers, a shirt, a wrap skirt, and - my favorite purchase - a $3 apron from the 1950s. I figured with all the cooking I've been doing, I deserved it. The store also sold a literary magazine called C.L.A.P. (Creative Ladies are Powerful), and the gender studies major in me couldn't resist that title.

I once again was too excited to take pictures, so the credit for this one goes to Ilana.

Once we had been through everything at Mighty Swell a few times, we headed to Uptown for lunch at Ecopolitan, a vegan, gluten-free, raw food restaurant located in a holistic health center. It reminded me of a more polished version of the juice bar and restaurant where I worked in high school, and I was thrilled to be eating raw food, probably my favorite type of "cooking" (nothing actually gets cooked above 104°F). The menu looked so delicious I couldn't decide what to get, so luckily there was the option of a surprise entree - if you can't decide, the chef decides for you! I took a chance and ended up with an imitation tuna (made with walnuts) maki roll to accompany my "Greenway" smoothie: coconut water, banana, pear, spinach, blueberries, and vanilla. Lizzy tried the "rawvioli" and Ilana tried the mac and cheese (zucchini noodles and cashew cheese). I tried a bit of everything, and it was all so fresh tasting and delicious. We finished the meal with a berry ice cream (made with almond milk) parfait.

Lizzy had to go babysit, so Ilana and I made our way to the Lagoon movie theater to see Beasts of the Southern Wild. I can't possibly talk about this movie without doing it a huge injustice; I think it suffices to say that I have only had this visceral of a reaction to a piece of art twice before in my life (and never before to a movie). I openly wept all the way through the end of the credits, and I felt so weak that I could barely get up to leave the theatre. If you haven't seen it yet, go as soon as you possibly can.

The rest of the night consisted of dinner at the Bryant Lake Bowl, a bowling alley/theatre space/restaurant in Uptown. We thought about going bowling but decided against it, and instead I had a delicious flatbread pizza (made with manchego, my favorite cheese in the entire world!) while we decompressed after the movie.

I know I've said before that Uptown is overrated - when I called my mom yesterday while walking around, she was surprised to hear that I was enjoying myself there - but I think I need to retract that statement. Until this Saturday, I had never explored Lyndale, a street in Uptown packed with cool coffee shops and more places like Ecopolitan (French Meadows Cafe is also on Lyndale). Once you get away from the more commercial, yuppie Hennepin Avenue, Uptown is pretty great, though I still have a soft spot for Seward.

I made my usual weekend trip to the Seward Cafe this morning to keep pushing my way through William S. Burroughs' Naked Lunch, a beautiful piece of Beat literature that I've been meaning to read for years and have finally found the stamina for. His writing is haunting and often really hard to stomach, but it's so breathtaking that it's worth every minute. All that said, though, I still only managed to get through 35 pages in the two hours I spent there.

Yoga class today was another pleasant surprise. I had never taken class with this instructor before, and even though it was an intermediate class, it was really challenging. There's a fitness center above my yoga studio that's completely unaffiliated, and at the end of class today (just before we started to meditate) an aerobics class, complete with Lady Gaga, started right above our classroom. I was really amazed with how the instructor was able to keep us focused through that - he told us to notice the sounds around us, and then to turn our listening to the silence within ourselves. He spoke about a monk he recently heard speak who, beginning in March, is taking a five year vow of silence to communicate the idea that silence is one of the few things that every person has in common; it crosses language  and cultural barriers like nothing else can. I usually don't like when yoga instructors attempt to impart wisdom like this on the class because it often breaks my focus, but since class this afternoon I've been thinking a lot about the idea of listening to the silence within and finding peace that way. I think it'll come in handy next week, since I'm moving on to my first week with the little ones. 


I'll be with four- and five-year-olds in the mornings and with K-3rd grade in the afternoons. My morning camp is called Around the World in Fairytales and my afternoon camp is School for Sorcerers. If I'm being completely honest, I'm terrified for these camps - I've probably said this before, but I've never worked with kids this young. I'm much more comfortable with older kids; even 4th-6th grade was a stretch for me. I'm excited to try it out, but it's going to be a challenging week. Being able to recognize the chaos around me without letting it affect my inner silence is going to be tough, but I think it's doable.


Here's to yet another Monday! Thanks for bearing with me through this long post - I'll try to keep next week's posts shorter.