Are girls and boys really that different?

At Charles Drew Elementary School, 65% of the students are 2 or more grades below the level expected for their age group for reading and maths. Some cannot read at all. Last Tuesday I started tutoring at Drew.

Last Monday was a hard day. I was frightened, nervous, unprepared, kept thinking about the film “Dangerous Minds” and drank way too much tea. A couple of weeks ago, I had found a tutoring program on Penn’s website called America Reads, America Counts. It’s a national program that recruits uni. students to go into inner city schools and help the kids with their reading and maths. Even though I’m not a student, Penn was happy for me to join the program but not be paid. Typical. I would go to Drew on Tuesdays and Thursdays until the Christmas break and work with the grade 6 – 8 (12 –14 year olds) special education teacher, Ms. DePaul. I kept asking if I needed to attend training sessions and kept being told no, instead I was handed a 4-page guide to tutoring and a pass to get into the school. I was now a tutor.

On Tuesday I got to the school way to early and circled it a few times, probably looking pretty dodgy. All inner-city American schools seem to have the same grim look. Four or five stories with many barred windows, a cement playground and enclosed by fencing. They have such a grey look about them I was honestly surprised that it wasn’t monochromatic inside.

Instead, it was colourful, lively and welcoming. I signed in and made my way to Ms. DePaul’s room. We had a really short conversation about what I was going to do and I was thrown into it. That day was test day at Drew and I was to work with two kids who needed extra help with reading and understanding the questions. In the morning I worked with an 8th grade girl called Sabrina. She had just transferred into the school and was described by all the teachers as “reserved and slow”. We sat together for an hour and a half and I left completely disagreeing with the teacher’s description of her. She was inquisitive and opened up to me immediately. She thrived on the attention, asking if I was going to be with her every day. It was a good first experience.

In the afternoon, I did the same thing with a 12-year-old boy called Dennis. I was warned that Dennis was the quintessential gossip and could easily go off task. It was delightful spending an hour with him; he was funny and charming but struggled immensely with reading. Instead of sounding out the word, he would look at the letters and choose a word from his memory that sort of matched. He quickly grew tired of the test and, to be honest, so did I.

I left Drew extremely proud of what I had done but also very angry about my preconceptions. It wasn’t at all scary or violent. The kids were kids, charming, inquisitive and searching for attention. TV has a lot to answer for.

On Thursday I returned to Drew unsure whether I’d had it easy the first time. The kids were studying the play “The Monkey’s Paw’ and I took a small group of girls in the morning and boys in the afternoon. The experiences couldn’t have been more different. The girls were a nightmare, constantly going off task, answering back and generally messing around. The boys were a dream, enjoying the task and asking some great questions. I was fascinated at how different they actually were and can’t wait to get back there and try to figure out what’s going on. I’m determined to get on the good side of the girls.


I am thrilled with my introduction to tutoring but still feel nervous. We’ll see how this week goes.

Love xxxxxxxxx

Listening to: Heard it through the grapevine - Marvin Gaye

Wondering if: I can turn the heating up even further without us going bankrupt.

ELVIS LIVES

If you have ever doubted it, here’s the evidence. And yes, I got to smell his sweat.

http://home.comcast.net/~mrl3/
(click on the Elvis link – it may take forever but you will not regret the wait)

He has had a lot of work done and it’s safe to say he no longer has his own hair but Elvis is still alive and crooning. As you can see everyone was is disbelief, having to turn away from this God of our times. They didn’t seem to want to go near the vision, but I was the chosen one. He touched me and my outfit miraculously turned into a wondorous wedding dress. He sang to be so beautifully in my face that I seriously began to consider if I had married the right man.

Ladies, how can you say no.

And please everyone - forgive him his costume. I mean his family have gone and sold all of his fabulous suits to the plebs on ebay. He had to improvise and I believe he did an excellent job. The tin foil on red terry towelling was stunning and set off beautifully with his use of orthopaedic clogs. I wouldn't be surprised if we see identical outfits on the runway for the Summer '06 season. Watch this space.

He is a God. Long live the king.

I missed bonfire night

To all of you who now only call me to tell me to update this thing - here you are...finally.

I've been a little preoccupied the last few weeks with minor thoughts like what am I going to do with my life, am I wasting my time doing what I'm doing, etc etc. Normal stuff for a 23 year old right? There seem to be two front runners in the career question: teaching and psychology (family therapist, clinical psychologist - I've not exactly narrowed that one down). So, I have applied to become a tutor with inner city kids in school and after school, I should be able to get a taste of the Philadelphia school situation who someone told me yesterday is like 'prison' and work out if that is the way to go. I am also slowly getting up the bottle to contact a psychology professor at Penn to ask if I can work in her lab for a few months - she works on the theory that genes have very little to do with the kind of adults we become - instead the people we become is determined by the kind of parental care we had as young children - for me the stuff is really fascinating.

Other than those massive life thoughts, things here have been ticking along very nicely. Here's a quick run down of things that have happened:

brent and I built bookcase, which now has pride of place in our sitting room - complete with books and everything. We are EXTREMELY proud of this - I keep finding myself looking over at it and smiling. And just for the record, I did all the hard work, when the drill was being used Brent was involved in the building but the minute the sand paper and wood stain came out he disappeared to 'build the barbecue'. It's November.

I visited Satan's..oh sorry..George W's house. We went to stay with Brent's college friends who live near D.C and have babies, big houses and dogs. Pretty much another universe than the one we are living in right now. For example I had a two hour conversation with the mothers about the birthing experience, warts and all. Not that it wasn't interesting, I would just have rather been playing pool with the boys. We do still want the dog part though - and to all of you who are against our great dane idea just look...

Still against it?...yes we know the poos will be huge

George W place looked just like it does on the TV, crazy eh. I have stopped reading the papers over here because it's abundantly clear that this country is truly out of control, and the crazy religious right is completely to blame. Abortion - how can anyone even consider making abortion illegal and what I'd love to know is are the pro-lifers going to bring up the innocent lives they are so concerned to save? No didn't think so. 40 million people over her do not have health insurance. Everyone can bash the NHS but at least everyone can go and get the health care they need (after a lengthy wait). People in New Orleans died because George W mates in FEMA couldn't even organism a horse show and a war continues to kill innocent people because Bush and his buddies wanted to put democracy in the Middle East, good luck with that, or was it maybe for the oil? All in all I'm not loving what's going on in my new country!

Erection man made another appearance at my art class. The penis was very evident this time- much more so than before, maybe it was shy last time!

We went to a haunted prison on Halloween. For the weeks leading up to Halloween, the big aboandoned Quaker jail in the middle of town is taken over by a bunch of actors that dress up as lunatic prisoners and psychotic guards and ghosts and ghouls and other scary stuff and jump out at you as you walk around. It was very cool, it's has been voted 9th best haunted house in the US and deserves it. You have to sign a waiver at the beginning saying that the building is a ruin and you won't sue them if some of it lands on your head. Throughout the whole thing, I was a mess, scared out of my little wits and I nearly ripped Brent's hand off. The worst bit was right out the beginning when one of them came up behind me and hissed in my ear....not cool.

There is quite a bit of other stuff but I don't want to give everything away at once. In a couple of weeks we are having our 2nd wedding reception for all the US folks that couldn't make it to the first one. I get to wear my dress again and my Mum is coming over. Very excited but I promise to write again before that all happens.

Love you all Jem xxxx

Feeling: excited to see my Mum

Listening to: our gurgling heating pipes

Downward facing dogs

It's now been over a month since I arrived in Philly. Time has flown and my head has spun but all in all the welcome has been very inviting. I am working (part time and for free but still working), we have a great house and have met some weird and wonderful people. But I do find myself pining for all things English. I have developed a desire to watch and read everything football related. I dragged Brent along to watch the England game against Austria in a bar and had to pay $20 for the pleasure. Before I got here I didn't care about football. This settling in thing may take quite a while.

On Sunday we got off our arses and went to a yoga class (one of the things we had been saying we would do for years). We left in a limping daze. The only yoga I had ever done was a very gentle Uni course taught by a 50ish woman who took you through each pose very slowly letting you relax for ages afterwards. In my uneducated yoga mind I thought this is what happened at every class. I was wrong.

The studio was gorgeous, lots of low lighting, candles, mirrors, plinky music. We were all lined up on our mats and the teacher entered the room, with no hi or intro she started the class with rapid instructions - inhale, arms up, exhale, bend forward, inhale heads to knees, exhale push up, inhale back bend, exhale lift hips and hold for 5 breaths, inhale jump up and head to knees, exhale arms up and inhale back to standing - again and again with no stopping. I felt like I as going to collapse, waiting for some let up that did not come for the whole hour. Near the end she asks us if we want to go into headstand - I'm like are you joking, I'd break my neck - and kindly declined her offer to help push me up. We left the place as limping sweaty messes. For the next two days I had real difficulty getting dressed let alone walk. Relaxing was definitely not what we experienced but becasue we are glutton for punishment and have paid for another four lessons, we have been back again and it was a hell of a lot easier the second time round. But I'm not sure if my hamstrings are ever going to be my friends again.

Love xxxxxxxxxxx

Listening to: the terrible radio station the builders outside are playing

Feeling: sore

Neighbours, everybody loves good neighbours

Stereotypes are a necessary evil. By placing vast proportions of the population into a few standard characteristics life is made a lot easier; there's no need to consider the infinite differences that exists in and between every person. Women are caring, emotional and enjoy shopping, accountants are middle aged men who listen to Phil Collins and enjoy golf, British people have terrible teeth, drink tea and constantly complain (that's right yeah?). This said, I am very quick to argue against strerotyping seeing them as a cause of a lot of trouble, but this week one was proved to be totally spot on.

We are slowly trying to meet our neighbours and get a feel for the dynamic of the street. On Sunday, Brent was on tea (!) duty and quickly discovered the milk had turned to cottage cheese. So he goes to get more and doesn't come back for an hour. I call to make sure he hasn't been killed (we are in Philly), he's alive and well just got held up because he had just met Frankie, our street's Italian-American Mafioso man about town . Think Godfather, every Al Pacino/Robert DeNiro movie and Soprano episode and you get the stereotype: leader of family who knows everyone in the city, politically connected, legit business and a lot of money. This guy ticked every box.

Brent met him on the street in front of his house (that was two row houses he knocked down and turned in to one huge one, complete with sculpted fountain out front) and start chatting. He discovered that Frankie owned half of the houses on the street (mostly bought for $5000 20 years ago) and was slowly selling them off for a huge profit (one is on the market now for $250 ,000). He asks about our plans and when he hears we want to buy eventually tells Brent that we shouldn't go to real estate agents but come to him with pre-approved money and that he could sort us out. I know alarm bells should ring but at that point I really started to like Frankie. He then continues to list all of his jobs... he works for the city water company, owns a plumbing business, and is the local democratic representative!!!!! This guy has his fingers in every pie going and then some.

Brent eventually makes it to the supermarket which is a five minute walk and Frankie is in the first ailse (having driven) chatting to a woman while holding her baby! He see Brent and calls,

"Hey buddy, you should've told me you were coming, I could've given you a lift. It's Sunday, I'm buying meatballs and macaroni. I am Italian you know."

Obviously this guy might not have any connections to the mob, the stereotype just fits so well, I kinda hope he does!

Love Jem


Listening to: Prince

Considering: if this post could jepordise our potential Frankie friendship....

pencils and penises

To set the scene. I have been going to a life drawing class for two weeks. I've wanted to do one of these classes ever since my Art A level and somehow never got round to it until now. Unfortunately it's not because my artistic juices are overflowing, instead it is a very obvious attempt to meet some people.

So along I go with a big pad of newsprint under my arm and my brand new, not yet out of the packaging, pastels, charcoal and pencils. The class is on the top floor of a four storey beast of a house. There are only 6 of us with a very cool-arty teacher called Robyn, who wears dungarees covered in paint splattered and a farmers cap, made famous by the charvers of the world. As it is the second week, we are all still a little unsure of each other - I mean we are there to stare at a naked body for two hours.

Everyone sets up their easel, struggles to get it to the right height, finds a drawing board, puts the board on the easel, adjusts the height again. Then tapes some paper up on the board and organises sparking utensils in a neat row within reaching distance. There's small chat about the storms, charcoal and the insanely hot temperature in the room. (No one had turned the air con on before we got there.) And then Robyn announces that she was going to get him. Me being me exclaims "it's a him!" - not because I was squeamish about drawing a man but because I'd only ever done (ha ha ha) women before. Robyn gives me an amused look and calls in the model.

Next thing - in walks a fifty-ish, slim, naked grey haired gentleman very very quickly. In the split second it took him to get from the door to the little stage for the models, it was impossible not to watch the fully formed rocking erection that led him into the room. He then took his place on his podium facing forward with his third eye staring at us all. It was hilarious. The poor guy stood there in 100 degree heat while we started to draw and you could tell from his face he was screaming in his head "Go down, Go down, Go down".

It did go down....Eventually.

XXXXXXXX

Thinking: I'm happy to be a woman

Listening to: the hilarity of American Football commentary. The woman down on the line just claimed she "had just talked to an expert in medicine and science"

Mattress madness

Did anyone know how convoluted buying a mattress is? We spent the entire day..well afternoon (last night involved some intensive wine guzzling) buying a bed and mattress ......and also the two other essential items for a new home - a wine rack shaped like a Egyptian pharaoh and an urn suitable for tall flowers or possibly umbrellas.

After buying our Egyptian fellow and faux antique urn, we engulfed a McDonald and walked into the longest shopping experience of our lives. The minute we walked into a branch of the "northeast's foremost furniture retailer", Thea. our furnishings consultant, pounced on us. After asking a few key questions, to work out how much commission she would be able to get out of us, she launched into a speech about the wonderful world of bed and mattress buying (mentioning numerous times that she had been doing this for 13 years and we were in very good hands.) At this point there was no escape - dazed and confused we were ushered on into the depths of the shop - which I'm convinced is designed like a casino, where you can't find the exit once your in.

So we did as Thea told us and walked around the "bedroom gallery" to select our new bed. Throughout the entire time, Thea followed us at a reasonable distance around the shop, comically jumping behind leather barkaloungers every time we looked round at her. It was bizarre.

Anyway we found a bed that looked great and wasn't too expensive..all good. But then Thea went into overdrive and led us to the mattress area and an experience never to be repeated. After another lengthy lecture about the right way to choose a mattress we spent maybe 2 HOURS picking the bloody thing. There are rules to this people.....first you have to decide if you are a plush person, a firm person or a pillow top person. I truly believed I would be a firm person but once I had tried the plush my whole world was turned upside down - beds are not meant to feel that good).
So plush it was, the next stage can be called - how much money do you want your plush to cost you. We entered the plush room where obviously they make you try the most expensive (and best) first so everything else seems crap. Many minutes passed as we bounced from mattress to mattress before a final decision was made. I'm not going to tell you how much we spent because it is very embarrassing but for the next what 10 years sleeping is going to kick ass!!!!!

We finally left the store, go in the car and couldn't move from sheer exhaustion. The Thea experience is not one to take lightly.

Mwaaa

Listening to: The Chris Moyles Show (sad I know)

Feeling: Sleepy

Discovering: humidity is not healthy for the British countenance.

home sweet home

SO sick of flat/apartment/house/loft hunting. I think we have only seen about 8 places but 6 of them were complete disasters, in one, the bathroom was spraypainted silver, the lounge in another had a HUGE 70's orange fireplace that filled the entire room and a bedroom in one had a horrendous black gate where one the wall should have been.

But the hunt has finally come to an end. We signed the lease on a three bed house in Italian market yesterday. How grown up are we, it is gorgeous...all wooden floors, great kitchen and room for lots and lots of people to stay. We move in on October 1st and I cannot wait. The place we are in at the moment was perfect when we first got here but a couple of weeks down the line living in one room, even with your nearest and dearest, becomes very very claustrophobic. Every sound and action is noticed - especially when one of you gets up at 5 in the morning and desperately tries to be quiet by doing everything slowly and delicately which obviously ends up being much noisier than normal, waking up the other one and causing a lot of tossing and turning and crankiness. Happiness is not found in a studio....Bring on the house!

Yesterday was a very good day. As well as signing a lease we saw The Roots at the symphony hall in downtown Philly. (It is one of my Philly goals to make friends with the Roots) The tickets were pretty expensive because of the venue and I'm not joking, in the entire time I've been here I have not seen so many white people in one place in Philly....and yes this was a Roots concert.

It started with the band entering with Black Thought (MC supreme), armed with megaphone, leading the New Orleans Brass Band through the audience to the stage and then gave the best performance I had ever seen. You couldn't understand a word he was saying but the whole thing was just amazing.

?estlove is the greatest drummer alive - anyone can disagree but you will be wrong.

At the end they left the way they came and the brass band led them out and this time the whole audience followed them. The Roots made a quick exit but the band kept playing and started to march around the lobby and made their way out onto the street with the entire audience following them into the Philly night. Then, in true marching band fashion, they started to march (!) down the street and for about 15 minutes the band and audience danced down the street together, stopping traffic, bemusing passers-by and basically having a wonderful time - every single person had a huge smile on their face. It was a very cool experience.

We are going to see the White Stripes in Atlantic City in a few weeks and they will have to go some to top that experience....will let you know.

Hugs and love

Listening to: Love Child - Diana Ross

Feeling: itchy (they have mutant mosquitoes over here and my delicate British flesh is not liking them very much!)

Thinking: iced tea kicks ass

Pats vs Genos

This afternoon, I witnessed first hand the biggest battle in Philly - the battle between Pats and Genos - the two ultimate Philly cheesesteak places. We went to an area called Italian market (as featured in the fantastic Rocky films - if you haven't seen Rocky 1 and 2 you must (don't bother with any of the others) for your Philly knowledge and to enrich your lives!) Italian market is where you can buy everything from whole pigs to fresh pasta to luxury cookware.) The place is fantastic, busy as hell with people filling up wheely shopping baskets, passing spice shops next to fish mongers next to sausage sellers next to chocolate shops. After about an hour of wandering we made our way towards the battleground.

A Philly cheesesteak is a staple food over here. It is a white bread roll filled with shredded steak (which kinda looked like kebab meat) with or without onions and cheese, served with a drink and cheesy fries. Not so good for the waistline but the amount of nervous sweating you do before ordering cancels out the weight gain. There are very strict rules for ordering a cheese steak:

Rule no. 1: You have to know what you want before you reach the counter.
Rule no. 2: You must choose either wit or witout (meaning with or without onions) and which cheese you want - American (plasticy cheese) or Provolone (Italian white cheese) or Cheese Whiz (cheese in a can (I'm not joking)). Ordering must use strict cheesesteak language such as if you want a steak with onions and cheese whiz you must say "Wit Whiz" or a steak without onions and no cheese is "Steak witout".
Rule no. 3: You must not hesitate when ordering, ask any questions or deviate from the above rules or you risk being trampled under other more educated cheese steak experts desperate for their Whiz!

Easy eh? Once you've got passed all that the steak is definitely an experience, but may taste a lot better after a heavy night out and the only thing that will do is some calorie busting, cholesterol accelerating uber greasy messy meat and chip combo. Pat and Geno's are the best and most famous cheesesteaks places in the world with a long rivalry. As I understand, Pat was the original steak joint - successful, profitable and unique. Until across the street a new steak place, Geno's, opened up copying Pat's set up exactly, except for covering their whole building in orange paint and neon signs (Pat's decor is much more subdued). Nowadays, they eyeball each other across the street as Phillyites and tourists alike munch their way through the greasy sandwiches...it's all pretty cool to watch.

We also experienced our first " First Friday" which is one night a month that all the small art galleries in one area of town open their doors to the public until late for free and with wine and beer. We wandered in and out of galleries falling in love with some stuff and gasping at the crazy prices and looking at the conceptual pieces uttering "I could do that at home" knowing full well that you couldn't. There is also a fringe festival going on and we were lucky enough to witness the first toilet tricycle race - which is exactly what it sounds like tricycles with toilets for seats. It was a blink and you'd miss it event but a hellava lot of fun.

If anything Philly is pretty interesting.....

LOL xxxxxxxx

Listening to: my husband being very noisy in the kitchen

Feeling: tired - went out for my first run in months today

Learnt this week: the Bush administration is more evil than I could of ever imagined

The fresh prince has left the building

Innnnn West Philadelphia born and raised
On the playground where I spent most of my days
Chilling out, maxing, relaxing all cool
And all shooting some b-ball outside of the school
When a couple of guys said "we're up in no good"
Started making trouble in my neighborhood
I got in one little fight and my mom got scared
And said "you're moving with your aunt and uncle in Bel-Air"

So, Will Smith was sent away to the safety of LA (! has anyone seen 24) and I find myself bang in the middle of the immortalised West Philly. I should've been mugged by now right??? Nah, I don't need rescuing yet...here's a bit of context for you about where I am. Philly is the 5th largest city in the US and West Philly has always been the poorer area of town, but is home to the University of Penn, the Ivy league school/uni. Over the past 7 years Penn has implemented mortgage program enticing their staff to move into West Philly. This has been a huge success and has brought many many businesses to the area and basically regenerated the whole place. It is now to the point where we can't afford to rent anything here!

We are staying in a studio flat at the top of a HUGE Victorian house in a very leafy area of town. It comes complete with creaky floorboards, dusty antiques and that unmistakable old lady smell. And has one of those great front porches complete with swing, very important for the complete American experience! I have spent the first 5 days coming to terms with the enormous changes that have happened in the past 2 weeks - marriage, new city, new job etc. In the first few hours there was a lot of nearly throwing up, staring into space and restraining myself from turning around and racing back across the Atlantic road-runner style. Those feelings are still here but are a small whisper in my head not the full blown roar they were 5 days ago.

Due to the joys of jet-lag the first days here have been starting at 6.00am and ending at 9.00pm, hardcore I know. (We made it till 10 last night.) They have been filled with:
driving around the city
starting accounts
filling in a million forms
looking at houses
walking around in horrendous humidity and getting cranky
unpacking
frequenting Tar-shay (formerly known as Target
swinging on front porch swings
trying to figure out where to buy wine and beer
realizing wine and beer are sold in separate places
finding the places to buy wine and beer
buying wine and beer
grilling anyone about the city and where they think we should live
getting bitten by very hungry mosquitoes.

With all of this and a lot more (the list was getting a bit long) my first impressions of Philly are really positive. Everyone I've met has been unbelievably helpful and friendly, interested in what we are doing and willing to give us any advice they can.

The plan is to move into a rented place next month but trying to decide where to live is nearly impossible as we have no idea whether one area is better than another. Philly is called the city of neighbourhoods and it really lives up to it. You can be driving down a street and in the space of a mile you can go through a moderately OK area, a really run down area and then suddenly find yourself in upper class suburbia.

Once all of my feet-finding and jet-lag is finished I'll hopefully get a little more interesting and stop going on about neighborhoods! I'm just a little overwhelmed right now. I did, however, meet the most obsessively tidy person in the world the other night. This person, who will remain unnamed, poured wine using a kitchen towel around the neck to catch any drips and broke into a sweat when a glass was put down without a coaster. At one point some boxes were brought down from this person's attic and I couldn't help but notice that each one had a typed label listing every item...this person is now my ultimate tidy standard - if I can get half way there I'll be surpassing myself (especially considering the state of this place right now.)

Love and hugs

Listening to: The very best of Al Green

Sitting on: Sofa in temporary apartment

Weather is: glorious (why am I inside?)

Feel like: chatting