Hawai'i trip, Day 4, June 17, 2018

It’s an early morning start and by 7:30am we have all the students on the buses to go to Central Union Church for a Sunday service. The orchestra is scheduled to play a prelude before the service and the choir will sing during the service. The church sits on the corner of Punahou and South Beretania Streets. Coming from Waikiki it is mauka (toward the mountains). We have been told by the bus driver that in Hawai’i directions are usually given in relation to the mountains (mauka) or the ocean (makai).

The church is very stately with a traditional New England design. The side walls are a series of doors that can be opened to allow the breeze to blow through the church. One teacher described it as “an open air church.” You can step directly onto the surrounding lawns from these doors and there is also a small courtyard on one side. After the service we are served fruit and drinks outside. It’s another beautiful sunny day. The congregation is warm and welcoming. They are excited to meet the students.

After a quick stop at the hotel we are off to lunch at the Ala Moana Center. This massive mall, containing upscale stores and restaurants, is the largest open-air shopping center in the world. It has over 350 shops and more than 100 restaurants. It also contains Shirokiya Japan Village Walk, a space designed to give the feel of a traditional Japanese village with food, entertainment and cultural features. I have my first Hawaiian poke bowl at lunch with a group of teachers and then head out to meet students at the bus so they can pick up their instruments for an afternoon performance. They are scheduled to play twice on a stage in the lower level of the shopping center. There is bench seating on the level above looking down over the stage and there are also seats directly in front of the stage. Most fill up as shoppers anticipate the performance.

On my way to the bus I meet up with some students and one is eating a green tea shaved ice with red beans. He is so excited that he says to me, “You should have some. It’s sooo good!” He points to the counter next to where I’m standing and it is irresistible. I order a small green tea shaved ice with red beans and when it arrives it is quite large. Two adults from our group are sitting behind the students and ask me to join them at their table. I sit and devour my shaved ice. It is truly delicious and the surprise is a soft ice cream in the center of the mound of shaved ice. It satisfies so many desires: cold, sweet, savory, creamy, and tasty.

As I arrive at the stage I notice immediately that Molly from the senior residence is sitting on a bench directly across from the center of the stage. She sees me and comes to say “hi” and tells me that she is saving a seat for me. She has asked her niece to drop her off so that she can hear the orchestra again. Though the sign says our steel band will also play it’s a mistake and I have to tell her that they are not coming to this location. They are performing at the Royal Hawaiian Shopping Center. I mention that our groups have all spread out for these afternoon performances and that the choir is singing at St. Andrew’s. She knows the church and considers if she will have time to get home and have her niece pick her up to take her to hear the choir. Molly is so enthusiastic to hear the students that she sits back down and starts telling everyone around her that they will really enjoy hearing this music. It’s while we are waiting for the music to start that she tells me all about her family. 

The winds play first and the orchestra follows. There’s not enough time in the hour scheduled for the Sinfonietta to play, but the students adjust without complaint. They have an hour between the first and second performances and so they take off to do more shopping. Each time the group comes back it seems there are more and more Hawaiian shirts in the mix. One of the students in my chaperone group has purchased a shirt with a lovely pink Hawaiian design. I compliment him and another student in our group says that she advised him. “I’m good at picking out shirts for people. You should let me pick one out for you.”

This is the night that we are going to meet up with the choir for dinner. We are all going to the Pagoda, a second time for the instrumentalists. This time they seat us in a large banquet room on the top floor. It feels like a wedding or bar mitzvah with large round tables and a stage toward the front of the room. The students spread out and find friends. The food is set out on a buffet and there is a coconut jelled dessert (haupia) with fresh pineapple.

Dinner ends and we’ve decided that it’s too late to follow the original plan of bringing the students back to the community center. They are looking tired and some are anxious to get some sleep. They are asking for earlier bed times. An announcement is made that the boys should get up and head to the buses that are parked outside near the restaurant. The girls are asked to stay and gather closer to the stage. There is a need to discuss the next day’s trip to the fish pond with the girls because there is something that the volunteers at the fish pond want the students to know; that if a woman has her period that she should not enter the water at the fish pond. There is concern about blood getting into the water, but also concern about sharks who might pick up the scent.

The adults try to communicate this information to the girls, but their concern that the girls will feel like they are being kept from the full experience that everyone else will have overrides their ability to simply state the reality of the situation. After several attempts the girls are getting the message and help to fill in the blanks. There is laughter and aha moments among the girls as they patiently sympathize with the adults who stand in front of them. It is, after all, a message that they had intended to have the female coach deliver if she had been at dinner. Unfortunately, she was at the hotel with a student who was ill.

We gather the girls up to head to the buses and discover that the boys have been sitting and waiting. Of course their curiosity was peaked and to dispel rumors, some had to be told the reason for the conversation with the girls alone. One awkward conversation triggering an even more awkward conversation.

Each night the first bed check is done by the seniors. They go room to room and see that everyone is OK. It’s quite sweet as they ask how everyone is doing, if there are any questions or needs; how the students are feeling. Thirty minutes after that the adults do a final check to make sure everyone is in the room assigned to them. There is continuing discussion as to what constitutes an adequate bed check and the only rule everyone seems to agree on is that the adult is not to set foot in the room. Students oblige the request to account for each and every person assigned to the room by hanging off the foot of the bed and waving toward the door, peaking around the corner to show their face, but not their full bodies or shouting out from the bathroom.

During one bed check some students mention that they are sure there are ghosts in their room. They have even woken during the night to knocking on their door, but when they open it no one is there. It does make me wonder what they would do if someone were there. Considering the sounds coming from that room, I expect it might involve screaming! We assure them that the guard sitting at the end of the hallway will certainly see anyone who comes down the hall during the night. They are surprised to know we have a security guard. Even so, the next morning they report hearing sounds in the night. We never investigate further.

Hawai'i Trip, Day 3, June 16, 2018

The morning is taken up with a visit to Sea Life Park. Everyone recognizes the name because it was the setting for the movie 50 First Dates with Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore. There aren’t many people at the park and the open-air amphitheater where the dolphin show will take place is empty when we get there. We fill it up. The show is entertaining though I expect there are students wondering if this is kind to animals; making them do tricks and behave like humans for our entertainment. We have at least an hour to walk around after the show and the bird cage attracts many students. The park provides you with small sticks of seeds to feed to the birds and to encourage them to sit on the stick while eating. They are a beautiful assortment of blues, whites, and rainbow colors. The sound is deafening and not a few people come out after being pooped on by a bird. No surprise in a busy cage of birds!

The orchestra students leave the park first at 10:45am to get lunch at the food court in Windward Mall. This time I find dumplings and try two kinds – plain and chili pepper hot. We then head to One Kalakaua Senior Living for a 1pm performance for the senior residents, arriving at about 12:45pm. Already, many residents have found seats and are anticipating the concert. The news has spread that the students have come from the best high school in the country and all the way from New York on the mainland. The ladies, in particular, are very impressed. One asks how come our school has so many Asian students. She says the group looks like it is from a local Hawaiian school. I'm not sure if there's disappointment in her voice or reassurance that there are Asian students everywhere in the country.

This is the students’ first performance in Hawai’i and they tune up and jump in without any hesitation. You might not even know they hadn't rehearsed in many days. The music, as always, is compelling and beautiful. As we wait to start I meet a few women. A woman named Molly tells me that she worked for a year at the Brooklyn Public Library. She is very chatty and after the concert comes over to tell me how much she has enjoyed hearing the students. She asks if they are planning to play anywhere else and I mention the next day’s performance at a local mall. She says she will come hear them again. She also wants to hear our steel drum band.    

The apartments at One Kalakaua Senior Living are either rented or purchased. As Molly tells me, “You know, Chinese like to own things so they can pass them on. My apartment is going to my niece.” She is the eldest of eight children, never married, and she refers to her niece often. The majority of the residents at the performance are Asian. It feels so familiar, the senior home and the people. A man asks about the financing of the trip. He can’t get over the cost of bringing so many students from NYC to Hawai’i. It is easy to see him calculating the price in his head.

After leaving the senior residence we make a quick stop at the hotel and then walk to the community center. Two professors that Tim knows lead us in a workshop on Hawai’ian hula and mele. The hula we learn is while sitting down (hula noho) and holding river stones (ili ili) in each hand to create a clacking sound. Each line of the mele is sung first in melody and then again in harmony.

The fluidity of the movements and the lilting quality of the music combine to draw you into the story. The professor keeps reminding us to smile, not an easy thing to do while concentrating on movements, words and music!

Dinner is at Beijing Waikiki, a more formal Chinese restaurant. We have a whole section of the restaurant and the meal is served over several courses on a lazy susan. It is all delicious even though the students seem to find only a few dishes they like. Of particular note is a platter of chicken and mu er (tree ears). The squid is also very good. The night before the choir had eaten at this restaurant and there were no provisions made for vegetarians. When we arrive one table has a piece of paper on it that says, “Vegetarian.” It is a nice effort even though it turns out that the table receives all of the meat dishes and only one completely vegetarian dish of stir fried vegetables. One teacher goes out to get a few students French Fries because they say there is nothing that they like to eat.

Bed check is at 10:30pm.

Hawai'i Trip, Day 2, June 15, 2018

Wake up call at 5:30am with breakfast at 6am. The students go to breakfast in two groups; the first and then 15 minutes later the second. The dining room in the Tiki Grill & Bar has long tables set up that accommodate the numbers well. There are tables for 4 on the balcony facing the ocean and the adults have claimed those. For once, I am happy to sit with anyone who has an available seat at their table. It's a nice feeling after years of still hesitating as I enter the school dining room; scanning for an empty seat, observing who's already there, seeing how far along people are in their meal.

We depart by charter bus at 7am for a tour of O'ahu. The buses are from two different companies; sometimes gold Royal buses and sometimes buses splashed with advertising for the Polynesian Cultural Center. More on that advertising later. Our driver and guide today is Carlos. The students quickly take a liking to him as he balances a microphone in one hand, points out sights with the other, leaving the bus to steer itself for brief periods (minutes, but seemingly longer). He is very enthusiastic and soon tells us his life story through his tour: that's where I was born, that's where I went to middle school, there's my high school. He also points out his favorite restaurants including Leonard's, a bakery known for its Portuguese fried dough (malasadas). We later have plain ones (dipped in sugar) delivered to our lookout stop, but learn that we have missed the filled versions especially the guava filled. According to Carlos, the best. As we pass the community college Carlos tells us that he went there to study hospitality and he loves what he does. He's a good driver and a natural tour guide: serious, warm, funny, and earnest about his duties. He is apologetic at the end of the day because the students have now asked if he will be their guide for the entire trip and he is at the beck and call of his company to assign him. He leaves us with a "let's hope," but, in fact, we never have Carlos as our driver again.

The lookout point is over a beach where many vans are unloading passengers and snorkeling equipment. Had this been a family vacation that might have been me. It was a brilliant day and the shades of blue and green on the water are breathtaking.

The Bishop Museum tour and Iolani Palace are on the agenda for the day. The seniors are expected to chant for the person who will decide if we are to gain admission. Not a guarantee, but a test of intention and sincere interest. The students, a little unsure knowing that they are not the glee club singers, do well. The tour guide is efficient and thorough and, as the students had been forewarned, they don't question anything he says. In fact, they may have taken it to the extreme and don't ask any questions at all. After the tour, however, we have an hour to walk around to view the exhibits in more detail. A few things that stay with me from the museum are the use of feathers in traditional garments and leis, the connection between Taiwanese and Hawaiian languages, and discovering that the ulu (breadfruit) is actually larger than a grapefruit.

I have a print at home that I brought back from Tonga. As I'm studying a tree outside the museum I have a realization that the print is not a fruit the size of a lychee as I'd always assumed, but it is this fruit in front of me, ulu.  It is the fruit that is also on wall murals on the outside of the Kamehameha high school.

The feather cape belonging to Captain Cook and displayed in the Bishop Museum is on loan from New Zealand's National Museum Te Papa Tongarewa. The cape and a matching helmut were given to Cook by Hawaiian Chief Kalani'opu'u in 1779. It has been over 200 years since the garment has been in Hawai'i. The guide told us that the Bishop Museum is hopeful that this long-term loan will end up as a permanent return of the items to their collection. The cape is made up of 3 million feathers from 20,000 birds. Only a few feathers were taken from each bird and they were then released back into the wild. A woman demonstrating the making of feather leis told us that it took 150 years to collect the feathers. True evidence of the Hawaiian concept of generations being connected; that you are never separate from the ancestors who came before you.

We head to lunch at Ward Village, a shopping mall and restaurants. I eat with two teachers at Piggy Smalls, a Vietnamese restaurant created by chef Andrew Le. We start with a half-dozen oysters on the half shell and then I have a bowl of pork belly noodles.

After lunch we go to Iolani Palace. The seniors chant once again and we are received on the first attempt. The chant, or oli, is used to communicate important information, often revealing information that establishes a relationship between the chanter(s) and the responding chanter. The words to the chant written for HM are below. The notes are from a practice session that Tim ran for faculty before the trip. The reference to "twin rivers" are the Hudson and East Rivers that surround NYC. The text is the single most important aspect of chants. The chant, like the hula, is the oral storytelling language of Hawaiian culture.

Iolani Palace is where Queen Liliuokalani, who rose to power following her brother's death in 1891, was imprisoned in her room in 1895. A provisional government was established after an unsuccessful attempt to reinstate the Queen marking the end of the Hawaiian monarchy. The quilt she sewed while imprisoned is on display in her room. It's a patchwork of embroidered pieces, some from her own garments, showing many aspects of her life and the names of people in her family.

The last stop for the afternoon is Diamond Head. It's the first time we impress upon the students the need for water bottles, sunscreen and hats. The Hawaiian sun is beating down and already we're watching the students who are flirting with sunburn. I stay behind with one other teacher who has also chosen not to do the hike. We take the opportunity to have pineapple shaved ice and a smoothie while sitting under the shade of the trees. It's a nice chance to chat and cool off in the warm breeze of Hawaii. The students are quick going up and coming down and have about 45 minutes at the end to gather under a gazebo, play music and sing their hearts out. The group grows in size with each student coming down from the mountain and the music grows louder.  As we move the group to return to the buses a woman walking near me says, "That must be some bus ride!" All joyful energy.

We end the day with a leisurely dinner at the Pagoda Restaurant, a Chinese buffet and a restaurant build over a fish pond of koi. I looked over the railing of the bridge and saw a real life version of the screen of swimming fish on Lumosity, the brain game, that trains your eye to follow individual movement amidst the constant movement of a group of koi. Challenging on the screen; challenging in real life.

Hawai'i Trip, Day 1: June 14, 2018

The weeks leading up to our departure for Hawai'i were packed with welcome gatherings for new families, end-of year gatherings for faculty, retirement recognitions, and preparations for graduation. They were also filled with final details for this trip; getting gloves for the fish pond, lists of students and medical forms, meeting chaperone groups and deciding on what to pack.

It is the day after graduation, June 14, 2018. We've barely said farewell to the graduates and we are getting on an airplane for an 11 hour flight to Hawai'i. 6am departure by school bus from Horace Mann to JFK. A 10am flight on Hawaiian Airlines to Honolulu and a bus ride to a the Aston Hotel in Waikiki.

I was imagining that the bus would be full; in fact, there were three buses waiting at HM this morning. The orchestra/bands group has 81 students on the roster traveling with 11 chaperones. The choir has about 100 students and another 11 chaperones. I hadn't anticipated that many students would be going directly to the airport. When I ask how many students we are expecting on the bus (I am thinking final head count) the response is that the bus is leaving at 6am as scheduled and anyone not on it will miss the ride. It is early and there is time to get to the airport by car, if necessary.

As we are getting ready to close the bus doors one chaperone is unaccounted for. Teachers try calling, but her phone goes to voicemail. And then finally the call goes through and she says she is already at the airport. The others don't seem surprised; I am wanting a definitive list of who is where.

We have a long wait at the airport and the students use the time to get food and use bathrooms. Hawaiian Airlines flies out of the Jet Blue Terminal, one of my favorite terminals. I have been in it so often and yet have never seen the end of the terminal that serves several smaller airlines including Hawaiian Airlines. Everything is on time and though the directors have been casual about a final chaperone check before letting the students get on the plane, three of them stand in the doorway of the gate until the waiting area is empty to do a final sweep of stuff and to confirm that no one is left in the area. I quickly learn that the chaperone groups throughout the trip are the key to accountability.

We arrive in Honolulu at about 2:30pm and are at the hotel, Aston Waikiki Beach Hotel, by 4pm. We walk to a nearby park for a catered dinner buffet; the students relax and the seniors practice the protocol chant in preparation for Tuesday's visit to the Bishop Museum. The chant has been commissioned by HM for this visit to Hawai'i and the composer has come to the park to practice with the students. Tim's sister drops by. She lives near the beach and tells us she had been out surfing earlier in the day. Tim introduces us and reminds us that we both work in early childhood. "I'm ready for retirement," she says with laughter in her voice and a sigh.

We return to the hotel in time for a 10pm bedtime; already 4am in NY.  The plan is for seniors to do the first bed check each night, followed by an adult bed check 30 minutes later. This first night everyone is tired and we only do an adult check at 10pm. The guards we've hired from the hotel show up with folding chairs in hand to sit in the hallways on the three floors with student rooms.

 Aston Waikiki Beach Hotel

 Practicing the Hawaiian chant in the park

Bookends of school year 2017-18

End of summer 2017

September 4, 2017

I had in mind to end the summer with one last visit to the water. I've been seeking water all summer remembering the sand beach in Acadia National Park and the beaches along Lake Ontario. I found a park on the edge of the Hudson in Irvington, NY, about a 20-minute drive north of here. It was in the general direction of the supermarket, my last task of the day on Labor Day so I headed there first. It was a stretch of park right on the river with a clear view looking north to the new Tappan Zee Bridge and south toward New York City. There was a warm wind blowing over the river and several people on sunfish were zipping across the water at a remarkable speed. Well after 3pm and the sun was still high in the sky, bright and warm and creating a glassy, bright reflection on the water.

A strange thing is happening. I am finding company in being alone. It took me at least a year to go to the places where Gregory and I used to go. I worried that it would feel too sad to be alone in places we always shared. On a holiday or a Sunday afternoon we often took off for neighborhoods downtown to browse bookstores or find new coffee shops or gelato. We might drive north along the Hudson stopping in the small villages always imagining what a life in one of those towns with a Main Street would be. I still have that feeling, wanting to browse and roam, but now I go alone. It is where I find him and feel he is with me and though I am without company I never feel completely alone in those moments.

Picking up where I left off at the end of summer 2017:

June 24, 2018
The start of summer 2018, my last school year summer. Emma and Andrew are coming with Felicity and Henry for Maggie's wedding in Sodus. Andrew will head home afterwards, but Emma will stay until September and that means I will have spent 25% of 2018 with Felicity and Henry! Ruby is coming back to Rochester for camp. I hope she's not disappointed to find that the children may have changed. It's the summer between her changing schools. A time to make new friends. Maggie and Tony get married on July 7th in Sodus. Dad turns 100 on August 31st. I'm giving a workshop at a conference in Virginia organized by a classroom from Global Competence Certificate Program on August 18th. We're preparing for the leadership workshop for the HM administrators with Mariama Richards, July 16-18. Busy weeks ahead.

I paid my first month's rent on the apartment in Rochester and am heading up to help paint and figure out how to furnish it. An exciting, but overwhelming, shift in thinking about home that I have been at tug-of-war with.

Gratefully, my summer started this year with a trip to Hawai'i with the music department's 200 students and 25 chaperones. Waking up to the ocean each morning for a week. Walking in the warm air in the evenings. Eating delicious pineapple. Trying poi. A perfect start.

Reflection, September 11, 2017

June 24, 2018
In memory of my Aunt Christel who passed away this year in Hamburg, Germany.

September 11, 2017

I was putting on a duvet cover this morning and recalled the first time I had ever heard of or seen a duvet cover. Writing this is also reminding me of the first time I was asked by the landlord, "It's a nice davenport, isn't it?" and I nodded yes, having no idea that the davenport was the sofa in the furnished apartment my roommates and I had rented for senior year of college. I thought it was something to do with the woodwork on the porch. Back to the duvet cover.

We were visiting Uncle Alvin and Aunt Christel in Germany for the first time and they greeted us with great excitement and warmth to their home in Hamburg. Before settling in, Aunt Christel showed us the bedroom and went to get a clean duvet cover for the quilt on the bed. I remember her showing me how you grab the top corners of the quilt and hold them inside the corners of the duvet cover shaking the whole quilt until it falls into place inside the cover. I thought the buttons at the bottom were especially wonderful, buttoned inward and leaving the bottom closure flat against the bed.

This morning I put on a freshly laundered duvet cover in preparation for my Aunt Cordelia's visit next week. There was something reassuring about being able to create a space that would welcome her and Warren. I'd just read recently two perspectives on top sheets. I never use a top sheet; only a duvet cover. I was glad to hear that one perspective was joy over having a fresh duvet cover against your skin without the fuss of an extra sheet between you and the quilt.

I have been alone in this house for over four years and I don't think a day goes by that I don't try to envision what it will feel like to leave it for a new home. That vision is filled with memories and fears. Memories of the people who have called this home, of Emma's high school years, of proximity to work and the community that has kept us in NYC all these years. Fear of creating a space without Gregory in it. Fear of living in a space that my parents will never know. Fear of the reality that this next move is mine alone. Fear of being unknown to new neighbors; unfamiliar with new patterns of living. Fear of letting go of the objects that surround me by intention and default. And yet, in this fifth year of living alone I am suddenly more able to think about this move than any year that has passed.

Reflection, October 2016

June 24, 2018
I don''t know why I didn't post this piece in October 2016. It has been a disgusting week of news about immigration and displaced children who have been separated from their parents at the border and sent all over the US and placed in the hands of systems that are unprepared to provide for the volume of children. Airlines have been lied to about who and why they are transporting unaccompanied children; no records have been kept so the exact number of children is unknown and their is no way to trace the location of parents and children to reunite them. The President changes his mind on policy with no regard for how practice will follow. His staff disagrees on practice.

The first lady goes out to visit a center that is holding children and finding them placements in homes. She wears a jacket that says, "I don't really care. Do U?" on the back. The press secretary claims there is no message on her choice of clothing. Who is more wreckless: the first lady or the press secretary?

In 2016 when I walked into Dad's room and he was glued to election news on CNN he said, "This is how Mao Tse-tung came to power."

October 2016

I started my last blog entry some time in the fall. I should have posted it.

Anyone who is planning to vote in the November election should see The Nazi Games - Berlin 1936 on PBS first. It is the story of bold deceit and cover-up of the truth about Hitler's regime and intentions that enticed the world into a version of the Olympics that continues today. It was the first game to run the torch relay from Olympia to Germany, a tradition that has endured. The pomp and ostentatious display of athletes was also something that endured from the Berlin games. Hitler's extraordinary sense of pride enabled him to present Berlin to the world as an example of success, organization, accomplishment and perfection. A shining example in which the world participated with enthusiasm.

We are witnessing the power of followers who believe in this type of leadership. Leadership that presents itself as powerful, shows results that promise to combat fears and convincingly advocates that there is only one way to reach a goal. 

The terrifying and ugly conflict in Charlottesville, VA this week that was triggered by white supremacists' protest over the taking down of a statue of Robert E. Lee has made real all the bluster and bullying of our current president. It was possible to ignore his impulsive tweeting and his contradictory declarations, unfounded truths (mostly made up lies), and erratic behavior demonstrating his true distaste for disloyalty. It is impossible to ignore the devastating violence and aggression of his supporters on the extreme right.

I have just read Do Not Say We Have Nothing by Madeleine Thien. It's the story of the Cultural Revolution in China and the government's response to protests in Tiananmen Square in the 1980's in support of democracy. I read The Handmaid's Tale by Atwood this summer, a dystopian tale in which women's single role is to procreate or fulfill a role that ensures that select women procreate. I read Michael Eric Dyson's Tears We Cannot Stop: A Sermon to White America in which he pleads for recognition that the black experience in America has been shaped by a history of white supremacy and privilege.

In all of these the loss of freedom is paramount. Tonight, at a performance of Tchaikovsky's Concerto in D for Violin, op 35 by Gil Shaham I was reminded of what this really means. To have this beautiful music taken away during the Cultural Revolution is to leave a landscape without texture. It's to dull the soul and starve the human intellect and creative spirit. We are in a terrible period of history and the only hope that we will come out of this stretch of history differently than those before us is our ability to remain connected, to listen for voices that are being silenced, to look for people who are being made invisible and finding power by turning fear and frustration and anger into action.