from Fall Session 2011.

My First Guest: Anonymous

(My first guest blogger wishes to remain anonymous.)

She is from Taiwan, has studied English in different places and has been in our class at Carver Center, Port Chester since September. She is in the picture.

Assignment: Write about a day you felt really happy to be in this country.

A Day in My Life: Happy to Be Alive

Light penetrated through the window and woke me up with bright warmness.

The birds were singing and the squirrels were chatting. They seemed to welcome

me to a new day. The aroma of coffee filled the air. It was a seductive morning call.

The newspaper was lying on the table waiting for me to browse. All of this cheered up the beginning of my day. My senses were alert and satisfied. I kissed my husband and kids and watched them leave home to go to work and school. Emotions were swirling in my heart. This is what I have always dreamt of. A family, happiness and health. I felt so content and thankful to be alive surrounded by people I love. And they love me very much too.

Assignment: Write a story that your parent or grandparent told you. (Her grandmother)

She wears a long dress, the wind blows through her golden blond hair and she misses her lover. Where has her lover’s boat gone? There is no information at all.

Has his boat met stormy weather? That makes her worry, but there is no one she can tell. She can only tell all her troubles to the wind, but the wind is heartless and teases her saying she is a fool. The wind doesn’t know first love with a trembling heart.

She misses her lover at the same time she misses her father. After twenty years she still doesn’t know who and where her father is. She misses her father and would like to meet him, but the only information she has is a golden cross he had left for her mother. Her mother told her that she was born out of wedlock. When she thinks about it sadness comes up in her mind. She doesn’t know whether her father is still alive or not. She only knows he is a Dutch ship doctor.

She thinks about both her mother’s and her own life. She misses and hates her father at the same time, especially when she sees some people who are close to their parents and she is the only one raised by a single mother. Today she is young and lonely and standing here waiting for her lover hoping that one day her lover’s boat will return to the harbor of An-Bing.

There is Miss Gold waiting till she hears the horn of the returning boat.                                                                                                                           This is a Taiwanese legend.

What happened to Thanksgiving?

The month of November used to be filled with legends of Pilgrims and Indians and school plays, Squanto. Miles Standish, Priscilla Alden.

Though their stories have turned out to be more fiction than fact, Thanksgiving was always a major part of the end of the year holiday count-down.

Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas.

But, where did it go?

I’m afraid it’s been gobbled up by the flat screen.

The truth is in the year 2011, 390 years after it was first celebrated, Thanksgiving means television, television and more television:

We watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade in the morning, football bowl games in the afternoon and evening and squeeze the “traditional” feast somewhere in between. There’s narry an Indian or Pilgrim in sight…

And to add insult to injury, Santa is the star of the Thanksgiving parade and everyone tunes in just to see and hear a range of performers from the latest Broadway musicals to the country’s top high school bands. I’m not complaining because our Port Chester High School Marching band was chosen to march in the parade and even starred in the re-make of Miracle on 34th Street!

But, how did Thanksgiving, that most American of all holidays, get lost in the media shuffle? Maybe it was too young and immature to fight back.

Unlike the ancient feasts of All Hallows Eve and The Festival of Lights which have both been Christianized, Thanksgiving is a very recent holiday. Abraham Lincoln proclaimed the fourth Thursday in November a national holiday in the middle of the Civil War, 1863.

And the traditional Thanksgiving feast varies as much as the people who prepare it. My German grandmother made bread stuffing for her turkey, my Italian grandmother used a more spicy sausage for hers.

The logical conclusion; Thanksgiving is as American as you can get, a melting pot of feasts that interpret and define cultures from all over the world. Of course it’s overshadowed by the media, it’s personal and familial, just as it was during the fall harvest of 1621 when a staunch group of English settlers welcomed the native people into their settlement. First, the colonists thanked the natives who helped them survive their first winter; half of the original group died. Then together, natives and pilgrims thanked their Creator for a bountiful harvest.

Over the years, I’ve tried to get our family to recreate that spirit by introducing a Native American Thanksgiving prayer for everyone to read aloud before the feast. They did it to please me…but they weren’t thrilled. If you want a copy, it’s in the next two blogs.

In our family, like so many others, Thanksgiving traditions work better when it comes to food. We usually say what we’re thankful for and love to sing together, but I always get to make the candied sweet potatoes. Amen!

Students were asked to write what they felt as well as what they saw. Notice that with feelings there are more similarities than with images. A good question to ask adult ESL students is why emotional responses are more alike than image responses.

I feel a little cold because of the weather. It makes me think many things and feel strange. Marvin

I can associate this with other experiences that I had receiving therapeutic massage. They used to use the same kind of music combined with relaxing sounds. Carlos 

It seems so familiar and a little sad to me. The peaceful melody calms me down. Ting

It’s like I’m dreaming, but after a few minutes I feel a little bit sad.  Latifa

The common feelings are security, appreciation and peace. This music gives me positive energy. Yuko

I can feel relaxed and nostalgic. I’d like to listen to this music before I go to bed,
I guess I can get rid of my daily stress and sleep very well. Izumi

The music makes my mind clear and relaxed.  Mayumi

I feel that his sound is for my heart gently. Setsuko

When I listen to this music I feel peaceful. It is like I just woke up and opened the window of my bedroom. Clara

Feelings of peace, comfort, community, always in a circle. The life circle in song.
Listening makes you a member of the circle. Feelings of peace. Camille 

]]> http://artofenglishconversations.wordpress.com/2011/10/13/earth-spirit-%e2%80%93-carlos-nakai-flute-evokes-feelings/feed/ 0 aoe636 aoe http://artofenglishconversations.wordpress.com/2011/09/24/earth-spirit-carlos-nakai-flute-evokes-images/ http://artofenglishconversations.wordpress.com/2011/09/24/earth-spirit-carlos-nakai-flute-evokes-images/#comments Sat, 24 Sep 2011 00:22:19 +0000 aoe636 http://artofenglishconversations.wordpress.com/?p=508 ]]> No study of Native American culture is complete without the inspirational sounds of Navajo flutist Carlos Nakai.

The music evokes images from our collective unconscious and sets up a friendly environment for new students. Here are some images that emerged from a half hour of listening and writing:

I am in a vast plain and wild nature and I can see wild animals too. Mayumi

I imagine as if he and I are in bamboo grove and he has been playing only for me. Setsuko

I can see a town with hills and many trees. I can see the sun showing up. Clara

The sky of sunset, a flight of birds return to their nests. The little town is becoming darker and darker. I hurry to go home from a secret field. Yuko

All creatures are breathing calmly, and the earth is holding them gently. Yukiko

A dignified view in Moabu, Arizona:  It is an indigenous settlement. An eagle of the sky, red rocks on the red field and wind. Yuko

There are many trees with fresh green leaves and a little bit mist like a fantasy story. I can’t see any stream, but I can hear comfortable spring water running down out of the mountain. Tomoka 

I see an Indian standing alone in a wide field. It’s the time of sunset. An Indian is looking far away, he is thinking of someone special who he cannot meet anymore.  Yumi 

River with an icy stream; chirping birds at dawn, green vegetation, endless plain, pouring rain, gathered people, farewell to a death warrior, fire in a dark night. Hermogenes

People are in a religious ceremony practicing their rituals and presenting a beautiful girl as a sacrifice to their believed God. People are wearing some feathers, accessories, and different colors. Latifa

Images that I see are the Twin Towers falling down, people crying because they have lost their family. Marvin 

Michiyo even wrote a short, short story…

A man is in a mountain range, in a cold air, talking to condors about his feeling. He just lost his loved one, he feels so sorry and alone, but also feels her soul somewhere around him. It is early in the morning, between the mountains, you can see the sky in the east is growing white. He feels hope from that, he feels the energy from the earth. He thinks he is going to live with his way because his life was given by nature. Everybody around him knows lives are precious, and they are part of nature. He says,”Condor, what do you see? You might see my love’s soul. If so, I want you to fly me up.”

I feel so sad and my heart cries about ordinary people.
Many children will wait for their mother and father, but will never
see them.
Never will mother kiss her baby.
This is a national mourning.
This is a world mourning.
This is a mourning for each of us.
All people woke up on a day of tragedy,
said good morning, but no one supposed
what the sunrise would bring.
The city under horror.
The city under smoke.
The city under a stream of fear and vulnerability.
All the world quaked from this tragedy.
All the world is in shock.
It is a terrible real-life movie
Who is the film director?
But American people have hope in their hearts.
They must be strong and have faith for the future.
God bless America.
Svetlana K.(Russia)

Day of Surprise
It seems to be a normal day for everybody; a day of routine.
People going to work, traders making deals, air traffic running
normal, but surprise. At 8:45 a plane crashes into one of the
Twin Towers in Manhattan. What seems to be at the beginning
an accident turns out to be a terrorist attack. A few minutes
after another plane crashes into the second tower. Then the  horror
begins. People running in different directions for their lives. Journalists
covering the scene. But yesterday something really shocked me. I saw
people jumping out of the windows. Then I stopped and thought what
was going through their minds? How was their state of mind? And I
thought did they have to choose how to die: jumping out of the window
or letting the flames reduce you to ashes?  Jiovanny T (Ecuador)

  I notice Jose, the computer instructor, standing silently in the
  doorway of my classroom. Walkman in hand, “What’s going on,
  Jose?”
  “A plane just crashed into the Twin Towers.”
  “What plane, a small plane?”
  “I don’t know. No, I don’t think it was a small plane.”
“O.K.  Well, let me know what’s happening. I’ll be down during the break.”
My students barely notice the exchange. The classroom is productively noisy with different accents
asking and answering questions. The clear September morning is alive with the sounds of English.
It’s 9:30 and we take our break. Several students go outside to the coffee truck. I remember to check
with Jose about the plane, it had almost slipped my mind.
“Another plane crashed into the Twin Towers.” now Jose looks worried. Two other teachers are
with him listening to the radio in the school office.
“A second plane? The Twin Towers?” Are you sure? It must be a mistake. Two planes, that’s
no accident. What’s going on?”
By this time many students are gathered at the office door, some visibly alarmed. My students
look at me, I look back at them.
“Do you want to leave? Do you want to go home? I’ll stay as long as I think we should, but
maybe you should go…”
Most of them are already out the door. I stand in silence looking from the door to the office.
I walk with the few remaining students back to our classroom. We want to be together so
we talk. I have no memory of what we do or say from that time until class ends at 11:15………….

The next day my students return to my class. We are still afraid, confused.
We discover that one of the new students Noriko Tanaka,
has lost her husband. She is in the city looking for him.
We talk about what we can do to help. We talk  and talk…
It isn’t enough…We need to write!

Some of those writings are in the next blog. They were published in our local newspaper
a few weeks after that terrible Tuesday which wasn’t called nine-eleven yet.

When I was a child I always dreaded writing the traditional first day back
composition…”What I did on my summer vacation.” Not this year!

This is what I did on my summer vacation.  
My husband Lou Del Bianco and I went on a 4200 mile road trip
from Port Chester, N.Y. to Davenport, Iowa to Mount Rushmore,
to Joplin, Missouri to Springfield, Illinois and back to Port Chester.
We  found daily inspiration in our 12 day odyssey of family and history
and culture and companionship.
When we returned to our hometown, we saw four wonderful theater
productions sponsored by the Port Chester Arts Council which is
celebrating its 30th anniversary this year and in which Lou, my family 
and I have been involved forever. Our community is blessed with
exceptional talent in all age categories.

In late July and August I spent lots of quallity time with my first great
grand child, Samantha, daughter of my granddaughter Christina and
her husband Brian. Samantha already has a performer’s charisma  and she
brings us together in laughter and love. 
Sammie’s  grandmother, my daughter Denise and my daughters, Diane
and Dana, and I spent a first-ever weekend alone together in Newport, R.I.
in celebration of my landmark birthday. It was a time I will cherish forever
and which we hope to repeat…same time next year. 
Finally, Lou and I collaborated on our first book, “In The Shadow of
The Mountain: Luigi’s Story” We finished the first draft last week and
hope to find a publisher for this unique story of Lou’s grandfather,
Luigi Del Bianco,an Italian immigrant who was chief carver on Mount
Rushmore from 1933-1940. 

Lou was invited to present Luigi’s story at Mount Rushmore this year;
the first time since 1941 that visitors and staff at the memorial heard it.
The response was so positive and encouraging that we felt compelled to put
“Luigi’s Story” in print. If you want a sneak preview of what it’s about, go
to LuigiMountRushmore.com.

That’s what I did on my summer vacation.

“May I speak?

This timely monologue inspired by Norman Rockwell’s Freedom of Speech painting
was written by Mexican immigrant Luis Hernandez in 2001 and performed in a show
called DreamAmerica which ourESL class wrote and presented for Southern
Westchester BOCES Adult Literacy students and audiences in our home community
of Port Chester,New York.
Unable to become “documented” Luis returned to Mexico and continues to use
his excellent command of English in Mexico’s thriving tourist industry.
Luis’s dream of becoming an actor in the U.S.was in fact briefly fulfilled during
the performances of DreamAmerica.
Yesterday I asked members of  my ESL4-5 class to read Luis’s monologue aloud
several times, then to choose a line that best speaks to today’s immigrant “situation”.
In this blog and the one that follows, these thoughtful and dedicated  students
speak for all immigrants with the honesty and  reality that many of us never hear.
This man started the speech with “May I speak?” because Americans don’t
expect that immigrants raise their voices. And never even think that they are
treated unfairly…”Hello! Why don’t you realize we are working hard, harder
than you. We are human beings, same as you…We are same.” Michiyo
“We speak the universal language, hard work”
It doesn’t matter where you are from, what language you speak,
the important thing is to contribute in some way and help the country…
Immigrants come to the USA because they want a better life and they know
that if they want to get it they have  to work.Then let them improve
themselves: the language and their status” Ines
How to make our employer accept our working? By working
more and more than what they expect. So, we come here for
helping you, not making trouble. That’s why Americans
should listen to us . Cookie